Afternoon Intermission Brought to You by Tori Amos...and Moby

Right now I am at home alone. Anthony took Carter to an Angels game, and the boys are at school. I've got Tori Amos on right now, the iTunes is delivering "Tear In Your Hand"...

Normally I don't listen to Tori Amos, at least not much since 1994, but for some reason I put her on. Tear In Your Hand is a sad song, and for some reason I feel like crying even though everything is pretty much wonderful in my life. I guess that's what good music does. Listening to it takes me back to junior high crushes and high school heartaches. Not this song in particular...just Tori Amos, and a time in my life when she was on the local radio station rotation.

I don't long for the days of obsessing over boys, and the adolescent mood swings. I don't miss homework and unpredictable hormones. I don't miss the awkwardness of it all. I do, however, miss the everyday possibility of getting lit up over silly little things--like somebody smiling at me in the hall, or getting punched in the arm by the crush of the week. The smell of cologne on a sofa pillow after an unexpected visit. I miss the high from getting A's on tests. Blowing my small paycheck from Around the Clock Answering Service at the mall. I miss having days and days of unscheduled summers with sun-baked adventure being the only plan.

I still get lit. It's just different things light me up now. Things I would have never imagined bringing me joy as a teenager, are now the source of my pride. The other day Cody came home from school and told me, "Mom, all the kids at school say you make the best grilled cheese." I walked on effing clouds the rest of that afternoon. Last week I dug up a patch of lawn so Carter and I could plant some seeds. We planted carrots, tomatoes, beans, basil, cantaloupe, columbine, and sunflowers. It's a hodge-podge of a garden, but I smile everytime I water those little dirt mounds. I check every day in anticipation for small shoots of green. I can't wait to see Carter's face when the seeds finally decide to sprout. Before I started to write this post, I repaired the toilet handle in the master bathroom. I felt like a freaking magician! A toilet that would once not flush, was now flushing again, whisking waste away like a magical little whirlpool. Is there anything now I cannot conquer, I doubt it.

Anyway, another rambling post from yours truly. I've got to keep these fingers nimble, if not for writing blogs--for the next broken toilet, future grilled cheese sandwiches, and invasive weeds that are sure to attempt a sneak attack on my cantaloupe.

Teary Tori is not longer playing. Moby and his hardcore disco is pumping away, and I must rush off to get some cardio before I pick up the boys from school. Now that Tori's gone, I don't feel like crying anymore. I do feel like snapping a couple of glo sticks, chugging a Rock Star, and dancing like an animal all over the front room. Unfortunately, there's no time for that now...

FYI:

"A shark on whiskey is mighty risky; a shark on beer is a beer engineer." --SGC2C

The Coast is Clear--For Now

The teens are at school. The husband is serving jury duty. The kid is in his bedroom playing with a million marbles, a pot, a large metal bowl, and a bamboo spoon. I am actually on the computer...typing.

I don't know how long this will last. I should get in all the words I can get in before something happens and I am pulled away from this world of clickity-clackity-plastic keys. I want to inform everyone of things in my brain...

...the kid just abandoned his million marbles, pot, large metal bowl, and bamboo spoon. He is now all up in my face harassing me with a repetative, "Let's go jump on the trampoline. Let's go jump on the trampoline. Let's...go...jump...on...the...tram...po...line!"

Well, it was worth a shot. At least I know my fingers still work on this clickity-clackity word writing device.

Off to the trampoline!