Sundays with Stretchy Pants

It’s like Tuesdays with Morrie, without all the wisdom.


Big Sigh

Today is Liberty’s last homeschool art class until fall. And since gas costs a billion dollars and the class is not within walking distance, I have to say goodbye to Java Central. *sigh* It really is the most beautiful coffee shop in the world. And now that they’re carrying AmyD stuff, they’re even beautifuller. If you’re local, and so rich that you can afford to put gas in your mini-van, you should go there and buy stuff. While I’m there today, I will be weeping into my iced java chip and drying my eyes with one of AmyD’s gorgeous aprons. *sniffle* I’ll buy it if I get it too snotty.

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The Trouble with Coffee

The trouble with pouring your very first cup of coffee of the day is, you probably really need that coffee in order to function properly, which implies that you’re probably not functioning properly at the time of the coffee pouring. And sometimes, that first cup might come after you’ve run a bit and so, while your brain might need a lot of extra oxygen to compensate for not yet having coffee, the oxygen might instead still be going to your muscles to try to keep them from rebelling and turning into jelly. So, this decreased brain oxygen, combined with the not-yet-having-coffee issue can be a problem when you try to add cinnamon to your oh-so-necessary first cup of coffee.

You might know that the cinnamon is in a rectangular container as opposed to the cylindrical containers housing most of the other spices, so you might think that if you grab any old rectangular container out of the spice cupboard, you’re safe. This would be a mistake. You might not remember that you also have a rectangular container of sesame seeds in your spice cupboard. And when you grab that container, you might say, “Huh, I wonder why the cinnamon is making a sound when I shake it. Weird.” At that point, you would think it would register that you might have grabbed the wrong container, but no. It won’t. You might even glance at the writing on the box, see an “S” and say to yourself, “Yes, that’s right. ‘S’ is for cinnamon,” not realizing that the only time you’ve ever seen cinnamon start with “S” is maybe when it was up in lights at a strip club. It won’t be until you actually pour the sesame seeds into your coffee that you will understand that you’re an idiot who needs to stay in bed until such time as the coffee is consumed.

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Oprah Heard My Prayers

It’s art day and it’s nice out. I suppose t’s possible that there is a cloud over the beautiful coffee shop, but I’m choosing to believe that Oprah heard my prayers and has forgiven me. Feels good.

We’re very excited around here to be having some more awesome company for the next 3 days (Mechelle, her kids, and one of my nieces–yay!) We’ll be wandering around doing the fun things that we can do in Columbus, so I won’t be around here checking my blog stats obssessively. Much. I don’t know how the 8 of you who check my blog regularly will get through the week, but I’m sure you could read a book or maybe interact with other humans to pass the time. I know those things don’t sound like viable alternatives, but I read on the internet that that’s how some people choose to spend their days. For real. Ok, bye.

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I’m Sorry, Oprah.

It’s raining today, what a surprise. I knew it would be raining because it’s homeschool art class day and homeschool art class day is when my friends and I drop our kids off and walk to the most beautiful coffee shop in the world. And on every single homeschool art class day, the weather has treated us like shit. It’s either raining or freezing cold, even if it was sunny and 50 degrees the day before. I think that the universe thinks that if we get to spend an hour and a half chatting in a beautiful coffee shop and have nice weather for our little walk, our heads might just explode with glee. I guess that could happen. The more likely theory is that this kind of thing happens because I once hung up on Oprah and she’s been punishing me in these little ways ever since.

To be fair, I didn’t know Oprah was going to be Queen of the Universe back when I hung up on her and I really think she should take that into consideration. It was the ’80s and I’m not even sure her ratings were better than Donahue’s at that time. She was having a show about bad neighbors and I had a really bad neighbor. When I was 8, he shot my first pet, Pooty the cat, and then pointed a gun at my mom when my parents confronted him. (No, we didn’t live in a trailer park. Why do you ask?) Anyway, this was back in the call-in days. I figured I had a story to tell, so I called and called and called. Every time somebody told their bad neighbor story, I was all, “My story is worse than that you big baby!” while I frantically dialed through my tears. I finally got through during the last commercial break. I don’t remember how the person answered the phone, but I know I said, “My neighbor is so bad, he shot my cat because she walked on his car and then when my dad and mom went over there, he pointed the gun at my mom! And we don’t even live in a trailer park!” The person on the phone said, “Ok,” and then I heard a click. I thought that meant I should hang up. I was little. They came back from commercial and I was bouncing up and down on the couch waiting for Oprah to say something like, “We just had the most precious little girl call in and tell us the worst story we’ve heard yet today. This story puts all of our panel guests’ stories to shame. Oh, the tragedy this little child has faced. I don’t know how she finds the strength to go on.” But she didn’t say anything like that. She said, “Ok, we have a caller. Go ahead, Caller. Caller? Caller, are you there? Jesus H. Christ, Caller? WTF?” And then she turned to her producer and said, “Don’t tell me that little bitch hung up on me.” At least, that’s the way I remember it. And can I tell you how a little piece of me died that day? I watched Oprah get all tense because I hung up on her. I felt an odd mix of elation and dread. I could’ve been on OPRAH! Oh no, I hung up on OPRAH! And then my parents got divorced. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.

So, I want to say I’m sorry to Oprah. I also want to say I’m sorry to my homeschool mom friends. I shouldn’t have kept this part of my past from you. I don’t want you to be hurt by any more of Oprah’s cosmic retaliation powers. I mean, I’m not sorry enough that I’m going to skip the coffee shop just so you guys can have a nice walk there, but still. At least now you know the truth.

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Sometimes My To-Do List Depresses Me

I didn’t run this morning because it’s pouring out there and I’m just not up for a soak today. No big deal, though, I don’t need running as an anti-depressant on this fine day because my to-do list says it’s Liberty’s homeschool art class day, which means I get to sit in a coffee shop with other homeschool moms for, like, an hour and fifteen minutes. Wheeeee! That’s cool, but next on my list, with a priority level of A2 (only slightly less important than voting which is written 3rd, but prioritized at A1): Wash lettuce. What in the hell kind of life do I have where I need to write “wash lettuce” on my to-do list? And now I’m depressed. I guess it would have been better if I hadn’t written it in my planner and had it staring at me and acting all urgent and important like I don’t have other more important things going on. I know I wrote it down because it is something that, if I don’t do it this morning, by the time I’m making lunch, I’ll feel too busy to do it and then we’ll all eat ice cream or something like that. I don’t write all the little household things I have to do all day long on the list, and now I know why. I can be in denial if I don’t write things like “laundry” and “toilets” and “feed the children again and again and again” and “fill up the little black holes of need with motherly love and affection until you have nothing left for yourself and you’re just an empty shell of a person who once lived, but no longer lives, and keep filling even though you realize that it will never be enough and whatever ruin they come to in life will be blamed on you for not giving them enough of you no matter how much you gave, because they are mother effin’ black holes of need.” That would be ridiculous. The lines are too small.

*sigh* I have to go wash the lettuce now.

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