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Category Archives: Musing
I am told that it is perfectly acceptable to arrive late to a blogging party. Thank you Suzie81 for being a gracious hostess
This week marks my two year blogiversary, and I decided that the best way to celebrate would be to invite you all to my blog party!
It has been quite a while since I last hosted a blog party, and I absolutely love them, so I’d like you all to put on your best outfits, grab a drink (mine is a Mojito for anyone that’s interested) and get your blog on! For those of you that have never participated in one before, the rules are simple:
1. Choose your favourite post from your own blog. The subject of the post can be anything you like – blogging, food, parenting, life, travel, thoughts, photography… Note: This should be only one post at a time or it will get sent straight to the ‘spam’ folder and I may not be able to find you for a while. I don’t have an issue…
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Happy Sunday Morning in the Blogosphere!
Finally, I am taking the time to catch up with the rest of the World. I took some time off yesterday because my work meeting was cancelled and the sun was out. Time to christen the lake season early. While Blondie and I parked ourselves on a beach blanket, my Mister and his buddy, Pete, were attempting to get our hibernating jet ski up and running. The jet ski needs some parts (obsolete ones at that), so the big boys were out and about in Pete’s boat. They traversed the lake to the South and picked up Blondie and I at Sunset Cove.
Another day in the mountains for me. This time it was for work training stores in North Georgia country. I left home in the wee hours of the morning and saw the sunrise from Appalacia. It was a strange, foggy drive with winding roads, and a wonderful feeling when the sun decided to wake up to join me.
After I finished, I was near my youngest daughter’s college, so we had dinner together. Then, back to the long, twisted road home. It was beautiful.
I have to confess to being a little tired tonight, so I will let the band who kept me company on the ride home close for me.
My voice is a little hoarse, not from the countless spiels I gave, but from singing at the top of my lungs all the way home.
…when we didn’t do our chores.
My Mom worked in the Emergency Room in a hospital outside of Detroit. She worked the standard hospital schedule. Seven in the morning until 3 in the afternoon, or three p.m. to eleven p.m.. She was that irritating lady who asked for your insurance and did all of the necessary evil paperwork to get sick and injured people back to see a doctor. After spending a day with delightful people yelling at and bleeding on her, she headed home sweet home.
My Granny and I were responsible for the household chores while Mom was at work. Granny cooked, I had the dishes and k.p.. After enduring a meal with four Hellions (my brothers and I having dinner contests involving not using our hands) my Granny deserved to not have to pick up another chore. Granny affectionately called us “the Devils from Hell”.
I wasn’t the best at cleaning the kitchen. I had other interests in mind. Listening to the radio, stealing and smoking cigarettes, general unspecified teen angst and getting out of chores. I hated to clean the kitchen.
Mom would come home and, whatever the hour, she would express her displeasure at my horrendous cleaning skills. I thought she was just being a bitch. My Granny gave me the nickname of “Ambitious”. I didn’t appreciate her sarcasm.
Still, it was better than my brother’s nickname of “Snake in the Grass”
Now that I am a grown up woman, I know the importance of a clean kitchen. It is both symbolic and hygienic. Why or when it became a perceived womanly art, I can’t answer. I have girlfriends who keep either an exceptionally tidy kitchen, and I know others whose dinner invitations are politely declined. Truth of the matter? Yes, I judge. I know it’s not right, but I can’t help myself.
So, this grown woman now has a job that is keeping me away ten to twelve hours a day. And guess who is pissed when the kitchen sink is covered up in dirty dishes? Karma comes around and bites me in the ass, and deservedly so.
Sometimes, it’s little ways that we show our appreciation. I know that I show my family love when I cook and keep a clean house. When I have their favorite things waiting for them. It would have been such a small gesture on my part to have done as Mom would have if she didn’t have to work. Maybe Granny didn’t need to witness “No Fork Friday” .
The lesson that I learned is you can’t metaphorically beat people into showing their appreciation for you. Throwing things across a room is only momentary gratification, (oh so gratifying) and no one likes to do things for a bitch. It has taken me many years to realize that I
can be am a bitch.
Sometimes people show appreciation in different ways than me, I have to learn to see them. And hire a maid.
I can’t sleep. I got out of bed this and headed for my living room, only to find a snoring little blond boy on the sofa. The Dog of Thunder followed me from his spot on the floor next to my bed to a new spot on the floor next to Blondie’s couch.
The rain outside is like the rain that you would hear on a soundtrack that one might buy to help with insomnia. The fan in the window has it’s own gentle hum that suggests a nap. Obviously, I’m not paying attention to those signs. I get to read posts in these early hours and eat the last popsicle in the house. Because sugar never interrupts sleep, right?
It is crazy to see how many of my WordPress friends are awake too. Some because of geography, others because of insomnia. The world is not a lonely place at this hour, and that gives me comfort. If I had any popsicles left, I would share.
Attention all Dragon Slayers and other cool cats, the Spring Party is over at Jason’s. You can bring your blog and your Easter Bonnet…and don’t forget your sunscreen!
I’m bringing my shameless plug for hunnedo.com and inventingreallife.wordpress.com and a nice jello salad with mini marshmallows