Worthless.

I have 20 minutes.

Well, I use to have like an hour and half, but, I squandered that, as I am want to do, on raspberry scone nibbling, coffee sipping, and trying not to freak people out at the coffee shop by inadvertently staring at them. (Dude, you are sitting at the table directly across from me, I can't help it. Plus, you've been tapping your foot at the same beat as the song playing in my earbuds, which is weird. I mean, can you hear the music too? Did you hack into my Pandora account and start streaming my Rocky soundtrack station?  Are you judging my music preferences right now? Because I made a conscious choice NOT to listen to my Elvis/Little Jimmy Dickens* station in public today. But mostly because sometimes I sing along. Unconsciously.)

But, now, I have 20 minutes to write something interesting, and at the rate I'm going, it's not going to happen.

I mean, sure, I could type random words and hope they make sense, like a weird word association game.

I could write about how I'm still obsession about the "return on investment" conversation I had with people three years ago. A conversation that still sends me in a spiral of self doubt and naval gazing, especially when combined with the reactions I get when I tell people what I do for a living. (Note: nothing)

I could write about how, once, when I was at the coffee shop I "overheard" (read eavesdropped here) someone tell their friend, "That was balls on the floor funny!" Which I thought was a rather good turn of phrase because it's true. You can't dribble when you're doubled over laughing. You're gonna have to place your basketball on the floor.

I could write about how I once saw a car, sitting on the side of the road, catch fire. But, it didn't even blow up or anything, so, not really my best story, ya' know?

But, now, I'm down to three minutes before I have to throw this laptop in my back pack, jump on my bike and race to meet the kids at the bus stop, and, there is no cohesiveness to this post.

Perhaps that is where my strength lies.

Handshake
Jam drop
UPS
Hat
Sunny
Day
Over
My-hammy
Moons
Trampoline
Dog pile
Fork
Love
Time
Turning back
Aerobics
Cher


Ah, high school PE memories.... *sigh* Those were the days I almost forgot about...




Give yourself $5 if you didn't watch the whole video.

Give yourself $10 if you watched AND worked out with Cher.


*Learned all my best trash talk from his song. For reals.

Parenting Buzz Words and IKEA Catalogs

Perseverance.

Determination.

Resolution.

Tenacity.

Se~du~li~ty. (nudgenudgewinkwinkerwink)

These words are just synonyms for that word. You know the one. The one that's been buzzing around all the cool, engaged parental circles these days: Grit. And, yes, crazy dedicated PTA parents, I totally want my kids to grow up with that attribute. But the best bonus? I can totally use IKEA catalogs as a teaching tool!

(Did you just say, "What you talkin' about, Willis?" Dude. You. Are. So. Cool.*)

See, year after year, IKEA, sends me a 200 page catalog. It's a really nice gift, truthfully, because I can gather the children together on the couch, all cozy like in front of the fire, tuck us up in a blanket knitted by Grandma and poke fun at    mock   giggle  use it to enlighten the children on such a complex topic. Because, guys, it takes a lot of grit to keep sending out advertisement gems like:

Dude, IKEA, let's face it,
in my "cook like no one's watching" world
those pancakes are already the perfect combo of spatula and plate.
The rest is just more dishes I'm gonna have to wash later.
 

If, next, you ask me if my refrigerator is running, IKEA, we're done.
Done. 

"Heeeey....
So, listen, bae, like, I love you, you know I do, but...
and don't read too far into this...
but, in my perfect bathroom oasis fantasy?
There's a wall.
Between us.
Blocking me from seeing your face in the morning.
Don't be mad."

...with your cute wittle sinky-wink
and your flushy flush flush where we get to put our tut-tut.
You're the cutest. Yes you are. Oh, yes you are!

Because baby talk shouldn't be wasted on actual infants.

And, at the end of the evening, as the last page of the catalog is closed, and you look into your children's eyes, you can be sure IKEA's pictures have provided the experience base your children require in order to profit from this learning experience about true grit.

If they look back at you like this:

*That was respect. Not sarcasm.**



**It's true. I'm that dorky.***


***I'm sorry.