And Now, the Weather
Even though this blog is called Wednesdays Off, I am usually off on Sundays too. Sarcasdad is off on Wednesday as well, making it a real day off. Unless I've got something going on, I clean on Sunday. When Spring rolls around, I clean with a little extra effort, so when the triple H days of summer hit, I can slack off a bit. Anyone from this part of the country knows that those Hs stand for hazy, hot and humid. We are one of those homes without central air, by choice. Some days, when breathing is enough to make you sweat, and people insist on telling you that it is the humidity, not the heat that is the culprit, I question our sanity. But truly those days are only a few in a whole year. And we have survived this long, coming as we do from a generation where air conditioners were a luxury. We had huge window fans for those nights when sleeping was tough.
Anyway, I am glad I cleaned with gusto last week, because today is one of those too hot to exert yourself much days. I knew it would be. Today, is Star's birthday. She would have been 39. It is almost always a triple H day. The day she was born it hit 90. Her first birthday was celebrated with the whole extended family crowded in our first house, again without air conditioning and the thermometer hit 94. Year after year we anticipated the hot dry heat , and were rarely disappointed.
Since my chores are done for the day, I am going to take my Kindle, and sit under a tree in a park where we used to go to read on hazy hot and humid Sundays.
Once More, With Feeling
The first sentence always seems to be the hardest to write. And now that I have gotten that out of the way, on to why now, after all this time, even bother. I am not sure myself. I have not stopped composing posts. I blog in my head all the time. I am most prolific in the morning, with the best stuff emerging when I am brushing my teeth or as I am driving to work. If only those words actually made it to print. I am one heck of a writer in my head, if I say so myself.
My theory as to why I can string words together better at those times than , say, now, is that I am not distracted by other pursuits.Words with Friends, Draw Something, Pinterest, etc. While I am somewhat of an iPad addict, I do abstain while engaged in either of the aforementioned activities.
I remember how good it felt to get all the thoughts out of my head and onto the digital page. I miss that.
So here I go again. It's good to get the memories down. The other day I was telling Sarcas-sis how the ZoeMeister and her penchant for wearing dresses was reminiscent of her at the same age. The fact that she remembered none of that shouldn't have surprised me, as she was only 2 or 3 at the time. But it did. I have no idea if the ZM, the CP, or anyone for that matter will read any of this. But that's okay. I blog for me.
I had started, but never finished a post about an example between a grandson and a granddaughter. It was one of those men are from Mars/women are from Venus moments. Dinner was served. Whatever we were having was on the spicy side so there were hot dogs for the kids. I put one on the Cutie Patootie's plate. He looked at me with big puppy dog eyes raised under those long beautiful lashes and said in a little boy voice "Mom Mom. will you cut my hot dog?". The same seven year old who moments ago had been outside playing soccer, whose voice was echoing up and down the block enabling us to pinpoint his exact location at any moment, who just earned another belt in karate, needed me to cut his hot dog. I, being a sucker for puppy dog eyes and little boy voices, was happy to oblige.
Simultaneously, on the other side of the table, Sarcas-sis had put a hot dog on the ZM's plate, and as a the ZM is only 2, her mother started to cut it for her. The reaction was swift and immediate. The ZM balled up both fists, and in a voice that could be heard in a sawmill said "Noooooo! I do it myself!" . And she did, slicing the wiener with the dinner knife while her mom held it steady with a fork.
We have eaten together many times between then and now. Just last week , the CP asked me, again, if I would cut his meat. "Really? You need Mom Mom to cut your meat?" his mom asked. I let it be known I was glad to do it. Because someday he will stop asking, and I will miss him wanting me to. One of his parents, I can't remember which, very quietly said, "of course, he will be in college then"
In case you were wondering, in my absence, there has been no lack of sarcasm.