For missing my exit. On a route I’ve been traveling for more than 6 months. And also a toll. For sitting at a dead stop.
Two classes down, one to go. I’m exhausted. My stomach is in an uproar. It won’t snow like they promised.
On the other hand, I’ve climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator all day. That’s 13 flights up so far. With a heavy backpack. No need to count the down flights – – they’re just too easy.
I had a vomiter this morning, which meant I was home unexpectedly. I attacked the foyer closet, because it needed it, and then I went after mine. I sorted some things out for the thrift store. I put some stuff away until late spring. I put some warm woolies where they would be even more accessible, and I put the rest in some semblance of order. I can actually start at the front right and work my way around the closet dressing myself in the order in which I usually pick out my clothes, instead of trying to match stuff from one side to the other. I think it will work better for me. I did have to stop once and take my temperature when I put three pairs of shoes in the thrift bag. I got the remaining footwear out of the floor and where they belong.
I also cooked, hands down, the tenderest chops that I have ever made. I braised them in just a touch of olive oil and then put them in the oven to finish cooking. They were melt in the mouth divine. I served those with fennel and cabbage sauteed and then steamed together (adding apple quarters at the end at the end of the cooking time), and wild rice. If you didn’t eat with me tonight, I feel sorry for ya!
That’s all I have for today. No deep thoughts, just stuff that needed doing and got done. It’s been a good one.
My kids have learned to play Dominoes at the after school program they attend, and now they are teaching me. It’s a more complicated game than I thought. I’m liking it.
You wanna know what else I am liking? Football. Yeah, I know, that’s crazy talk.
When I was a child, I thought as a child and I (un)spake as a child. But when I became a grown-ass woman of 47, I realized that just because silence during tv (and meals and breathing) was the rule in my childhood home, I didn’t have to keep living that way. And I realized that just because a man watching sports alone and silently was something I witnessed throughout childhood, that didn’t mean all men did it that way.
Now I watch, sometimes with an explainer, and sometimes just with my kids. And I am here to tell you, we were robbed in the third quarter last night by some BS calls. And nobody had to explain that part to me–I figured it out all by myself.
I’m understanding more why men gather with friends to watch the game that is playing on their own tv at home. Because football watching is more fun as a group activity. And this, boys and girls, is how I’ve moved from a Super Bowl watcher to a … well, fan may be too strong a word, but tolerater is definitely not strong enough.