_________ October 16, 2016 _________

Tid’s N’ Tads

Hi.  I don’t even know where to start, this week.  It’s been… rather horrible.  Not like one big, bad thing, but more like lots of little negatives, one after another, until I wanted to scream.  Possibly do some harm to some inanimate object.  If the Lord tarries, I may need to invest in a punching bag.

Negative Nellie.  I noticed this at the start of the week, and that’s probably why everything seemed worse.  When you look back, it’s different than knowing as it’s happening, y’know?  But I went to the library to pick up some holds, and my librarian friend said, “So have you had some good hikes, lately?!”  Um… no.  Snakes.  Swamps.  Bogs.  Marshes.  “It’s getting close to Halloween, do you have homeschool activities planned?”  Well… it’s complicated.  “At least there are extra-curriculars, right?”  (((((ahem.))))))  By the time I left, I thought… this is not like me.  I’m not typically so downer – I’m usually lil’ Ms. Upbeat.

Swim Times Three.  This week, Ethan started up swim class with Isaac and I.  It’ll work, and it’ll be good for them, but I have to swim in the middle.  When I put them next to each other, they take long breaks talking instead of swimming.  Messing around at the ends.  I’m not like a drill sergeant or something – at the end, they get to go play and jump off the board and stuff… but during swim time, they need to swim.  I’ll iron it all out, sure’n I will.  But the little kids now want to swim… so I figure once a month the rest of the family can go and just play, too.

Dumping Dance.  We went out to dinner with my BFF, and I told her everything that was going on.  She said that we sounded like this place just wasn’t working, and said that now that they’re having Lydia’s class, she should just go back and take that.  And I got to thinking about it, and… yeah.   So after dinner, we walked over and signed her up.  Then we went to the ‘new’ place, and I went up to the co-owner, and told her that we were done with the classes, there.  “WHY?!”  She was all gushy.  Hello…????  Because Lydia’s class is a technique class, and that’s not what we were signing up for… we wanted a performance class.  “It IS a performance class.”  She actually had the gall to look shocked.  “It’s always been a performance class.”  THAT. WAS. IT.  She just lied to my face!  I was so extremely pissed off, we walked, right there.  The good news?  Lydia’s got a real performance class at a studio we’re familiar with, and I can be with my BFF once a week, again.

Bruised Ribs.  While I was at dance dealing with idiots, my 11-year old was home being one.  God only knows why, but he decided to stand up on a wooden stool, and then apparently do a monkey dance?  You can about guess what happened: he fell, he landed on the hardwood stool, and he couldn’t breathe.  He hasn’t been breathing too comfortably, since.  He got himself in the ribcage, and while there’s no swelling, I’m pretty sure he bruised a rib or two.  He’s been a sore puppy.  I think maybe we won’t stand on stools, anymore?  ((<< Like I haven’t said something about standing on furniture about 60000 times in my life, already?))

Bra Buying.  My underthings are absolutely shot. I haven’t bought a bra since I gave birth to Isaac (he’s 13), and after 10 years of solid nursing, I have no idea what size I ended up, when all was said and done.  But my bras are actually worn so badly, the material is shredding.  There were two hooks left, so that was okay, right?  But I needed to do something.  This weekend, I had to buy a bra.  Do you know what they have, now?  They don’t – apparently – sell pretty bras, anymore.  They sell armor-fortified, ugly ass, cover-you-from-bottom-rib-to-neck, no adjustable straps CRAP.   Okay, so my first challenge was to find out my size.  Once figuring that out, I had a choice of sports bra (which hoists, but has no support, so everything spills out the sides, and THAT ain’t even right!) or a MAMMA JAMMA bra, which previously I only pictured on Attila the Hun’s wife.  Yikes!  And THICK…!  Like I need any help?!  (<< Actually, I do.  Turns out I’m back down to being a ‘B’ cup, which is pretty much nuthin’ up top, considering.)  But padding is just yuck.  I walked away empty handed, feeling utterly humiliated and disgusted with the pickings.  Got safety pins…?  I can make these last longer.

Facebook Fluff.  Facebook absolutely SUCKS, anymore.  I spend over an hour a day, scrolling thru the feed from one 24-hour period, and all it consists of is political mud-slinging, scary clowns, something called ‘Walking Dead’, and cat pictures.  HomiGAWSH, stop liking and sharing shit!!!  People don’t want to spend their lives slogging through it!  I ended up doing an intensive purge, ‘unfollowing’ and unfriending people, unliking a ton of sites, and blocking friends’ stupid friends.  It’s ridiculous, you know this?  Life is too short.  And you know, the minute I got rid of the worst offenders (I thought two ‘friends’ were the most meme posters)… others turned out to be stepping into their places!  Yikes!  Don’t my ‘friends’ respect me enough not to bog me down with crap?!  I swear…  and you know it would be rude for me to comment “You really think people want to see this in their feed, hello?”  I may be becoming a crank…

BONKERS!   We’ve incorporated a “game night” in our week, and our first game was ‘Bonkers!’.  I vaguely remember it from my childhood, and apparently picked it up at a yard sale for 50¢.  It was FUN!  So much so, that we’ve played five games, this week, through the week.  It’s been good, because I really just want to curl up with my family and have happy moments, instead of reaching out to people – anywhere.

Ghostbusters.  We rented the old one and the new one, and saw both, this weekend.  I was absolutely floored to come to the realization that the new one is better than the old one!  Honestly, we all expected the new one to be over the top, rude, nasty… but it wasn’t.  And the cameos were great… although I’m disappointed in Rick Moranis for not doing a cameo.  Bad sportsmanship, there.

Anyhow.  I’m feeling like a downer, and hate feeling like a downer.  Definitely this is a sign that it’s time to close.

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