fabaceous (adj) Having the nature of a bean; like a bean – from the Latin ‘faba,’ meaning bean.
Here’s to the last sunny Sunday morning in March. This one went whooshing right on by. But that’s okay, because I love Sunday afternoons too, no matter what month it is.
Normally I don’t miss three days in a row of putting my scatter-brained thoughts out there for all the world to see, or ignore, or whatever it is that happens to them. But when I do, I have my reasons. Not saying they’re good ones, but reasons are reasons. So, on to the profound stuff. Or the superficial. Or the moderately sagacious.
1. Work. There will be an end to gainful employment for me very soon. Hopefully in less than six months. This lovely thought keeps me showing up, since I am able to see an end in sight at last. Some days that feels like a lifetime away, especially when complete strangers sit down and proceed tell me the most bizarre shit imaginable. I’m not sure what I do to encourage this. I don’t think I do anything. And yet people tell me things that happened to them from years ago right up to and including the past five minutes. Things that are really none of my business. So I don’t feel like I should share their information. And when I come home with my head full of life stories that I never asked to hear, I’m both physically and mentally exhausted.
2. I hate the word SHOULD. Also ought, duty, must, need, and maybe even do. Because there’s many things waiting to be done and I don’t feel like doing any of them. I don’t care if I should. And of course that’s a lie, otherwise I wouldn’t even mention it. GUILT. Another stupid word.
3. We are dog-sitting for a week. All of our grandchildren and their moms are off for a spring break holiday to the sunny south. I don’t envy them the long overnight flights, but getting away from our cold non-spring-like weather will be a very nice break. Really, having a dog here as an excuse for doing nothing is pretty lame. He’s a good little dog.
4. My I-Pad is evil. Well maybe that’s a little harsh. Let’s call it an angel of darkness. I pick it up and I cannot put it down. It is very portable. It plays timba drums (often relentlessly) when it has something to tell me or show me which may or may not be important. It reminds me to play Candy Crush and Words with Friends. It has Netflix.
5. There are many books on my Kindle waiting to be read. I purchase them faster than I read them. One day I hope to get this all evened out. Living long enough to do so would be nice.
If this were true I would be disgustingly healthy. Or have a severe vitamin over-dose going on. I comfort myself with the thought that there are worse addictions and many less relaxing ways to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon than drinking coffee and watching the sixth season of Psych. Yes, I know, I have issues. I promise I’ll think about them seriously some other time. When exactly that might happen depends on how long I live, and possibly on how much coffee I am able to consume.
So what are you up to on your last Sunday in March? If it’s more exciting than my day, I can’t say I’m too surprised.
Jazzy will be back tomorrow! There, I’ve said it. There’s no going back now.
No matter what my plans (or lack thereof) are for any given day, I am basically a creature of habit. My day starts with this lovely thought.
And second, more coffee. And guess what comes next? Gargantuan coffee number three. Well that’s how it went today, anyway.
That’s probably quite enough coffee for one day. I’m just not my usual laid back lazy self tonight. Instead I think I might describe myself as zingy. Zippy? Zonked will come later.
I always make coffee in the morning and drink at least one over sized cup before work. Then I get a large black coffee from McDonalds for the morning. Then when a co-worker shows up and asks me if I’d like a coffee, I rarely say no. That would be rude. We don’t fool around with wimpy little cups either – these are the super sized jumbo heart palpitation inducing servings guaranteed to make it pretty much impossible for your eyes to close.
By five o’clock today I was still wide awake and buzzed and not thinking clearly, which helps to explain why I bought a gluten-free pizza crust mix and some yeast and enough pepperoni to pave my driveway.
Yes, I made pizza! On this no bread no wheat no gluten and not even a measly cracker food plan I made up for myself, the one thing I’ve really been missing is pizza. W was skeptical because he fears everything gluten-less, but the crust was okay! It was a lot like biscuit dough, but crunchy. Really, if you put enough tomato sauce and pepperoni and melted cheese on something it’s pretty hard for it to taste bad. I also threw on some bits of onion and green pepper. Because vegetables.
Do you hate it when somebody says because followed by one word? Do you get why that’s so popular when it’s rarely a proper explanation for anything?
And while you’re answering that could you also please explain to me why I’m drinking another cup of coffee as we speak? Don’t worry, this one is decaf. Because GAWD.
Maybe I should have some wine to help me sleep…… There’s no gluten in wine. But first……
We are having an end of March snow day. I don’t feel like talking about it.
Normally I wait until the end of April to do our income taxes, but this year I thought I’d get it over with and make the end of March our new deadline so I downloaded the software and got started. Then I got fed up seeing how much money I’m making for the government and decided to take a break. The break turned out to be a really long one.
I’m still on it. It’s still snowing. I do have something sort of I interesting to put in this post, I just wanted to make you wait for it.
I don’t really get the last one but the picture is fun. Maybe I’ve already taken that walk. Cabin fever is a powerful thing. But my house is warm and the days are long. And the sun will come up tomorrow.
These words are so simple, and yet….
I can’t get them out of my head. What does this mean? The phrase takes me all the way back to high school English and teachers who analyzed poetry in particular, but also pretty much every other written thing, to death. I admit I liked trying to impress them with my twisted take on things. I expect a lot of authors would have been totally baffled by the garbage we came up with that they never meant at all.
Anyway, I want to know what you think. Please take my poll.
There are no wrong answers. Probably there are no right answers either. Thank you class. No going home for you until you finish this. I will mail you your marks.
March 23rd Daily Prompt: Mr. Sandman
What kind of sleeper are you? Do you drop off like a stone and awaken refreshed, or do you need pitch black and silence to drift off to dream?
(I know this is yesterdays prompt, and I would have done it yesterday if I hadn’t needed to take so many naps. It’s the only sane way to spend a Monday.)
I am a marathon sleeper. If sleeping were an Olympic event I would be a high ranking favourite, a definite contender for the gold. I have been in training my entire life. When I was a baby my mother said her envious friends were sure she must be sedating me. She could plop me down on any flat surface while she visited and drank tea and I would stay happily passed out until it was time to bundle me up again and take me home. It was anyone’s guess what color my eyes were for several months because they were so rarely open.
I don’t remember ever being freaked out by bedtime as a child. Or as an adult either. So when I gave birth to a daughter who couldn’t seem to figure out how to sleep for more than four hours at a stretch until she was six months old, and then bumped it up to six hours between midnight and six a.m. until she was almost two – well that was enough to make me totally rethink the parenting thing, never mind my new zombie-like personality caused by sleep deprivation. She was the kind of kid who would jump up and down in the middle of the room and sing and dance to stay awake. After that I had a less confusing child who restored my faith in the existence of our family’s powerful sleep gene. I never loved my son so much as when he would look at me with his forlorn little face at the end of the day and say “Is it time to go to bed yet?”
Although pitch black silence is nice for inducing sleep, for me it’s not a necessary requirement. My grandma could fall asleep anywhere and so can I. A loud noise or the phone ringing or incessant and annoying snoring (not mentioning any names here) will wake me up easily enough, but if I’m not sufficiently rested I will be ridiculously cranky until you shut up and go away and leave me alone. Or give me coffee. That also works.
Maybe I was a raving insomniac in a past life and in this one I’m making up for all that lost sleep. Sleep is such a lovely thing. I don’t understand why we all don’t do more of it. Although I’ve heard there are people who would like to do that and can’t. That makes me feel like one of the lucky ones. It’s like my brain has an off switch triggered by simply closing my eyes. Is that a blessing or a curse? I don’t know. Maybe the mysteries of the universe can only be solved at 3 a.m., in which case I probably won’t be the one doing that.
But I’m sure this talent for dropping happily off into dreamland and staying there for hours has to be a true indicator of an untroubled mind, right?
Anyway, don’t think too hard about that. Just agree with me. You’ll sleep better.
I swore a lot.
You know, just for the record, way back in the day when I was young Spring didn’t officially begin until the twenty-first day of March. When things change I always like to find someone to blame for it, and in this case it’s astronomers and calendar manufacturers and people with a warped sense of humor.
Spring is currently being reduced by approximately one minute per year and winter by about one-half minute per year. Summer is gaining the minute lost from spring, and autumn is gaining the half-minute lost from winter. Winter is the therefore the shortest astronomical season, and getting shorter all the time.
If you don’t believe that, good for you. It doesn’t sound even remotely realistic to me either, especially when I’m looking out the kitchen window at eight o’clock in the morning on the 20th of March at a raging blizzard.
So back to the swearing part of my day. W has already replaced my winter tires with summer tires because it’s what he does every March just before a major snow squall. There’s no reasoning with him on this so I don’t even bother anymore. I just get in my car and drive all over the road cursing non stop for however long it takes me to get where I’m going. It’s good that I get this out of my system before I start work. And that no one has to listen to it but me. It’s therapeutic. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
So I did make it through the crappy weather to my destination where I worked all day. Then I did some grocery shopping and drove home on mostly bare roads because the snow melts more quickly when a lot of maniacs are driving their cars on it. And I made a big pot of chili. Because it’s the first day of Spring and we need to eat something hot to thaw us out.
I also took this lovely spring picture in our back yard. I think the icicles on the lawn chair are a nice touch. I’m not sure why the little tables are on top of the chairs but I’m sure W would have some crazy long and detailed explanation for it if I were foolish enough to ask him about it. So I won’t.
I’m not convinced that today was a real spring day. Maybe it’s still supposed to be the twenty-first after all and tomorrow we’ll get a better surprise.
This is my first ever (and perhaps my only ever) attempt at a slide show. Whew.
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