On Monday, my husband went to work.
“This is my first day of work this year!” he giggled, hoisting his bags over his shoulder and heading for the door.
“Do you want to go stand by your truck with your lunch box and I can take a photo of your First Day of Work?” I asked.
And then he giggled some more.
The light is different here. The beginning and ending of each day is longer, the light gentler. Taking pictures indoors is, once again, a rewarding option. Probably because this house doesn’t have a green plastic lid on it:
We’re halfway through our Reading Week. It’s fun.
It’s also time consuming. You can’t really get anything else done when you’re staring at a page.
It’s a good discipline for me to set aside my Get Something Done attitude and work at absorbing words.
But, like I said, it’s fun. So then I get sucked into absorbing and don’t do much doing. Which is the point!
But because I’m a Producer and an Analyzer, I start worrying that I need to find balance and then I get all stressed that I won’t. Which is not the point.
1. Queenie did a blog up-do and I’m tickled pink. Just look at that header! She’s a great writer: honest and wry with a hearty dash of wit. Love her. (She’s also my sister-in-law once removed. Or something. We don’t talk—we just read each other.) Some of my favorite posts:
It’s my boy’s birthday. The book I picked out for him at the library couldn’t be more fitting, title-wise.
He’s taller than me, you know. He might be mouthier, too.
I love him. Some days I even like him.
I went shopping last night. When I got home, this is what I wrote on Facebook:
I went to Sharp Shopper tonight. I feel like I need to debrief. Or go to confession.
The cheap prices, the choices, the ginormous quantities…they blew me away. I was left with a full cart, a fuzzy brain, and blurry vision. So I went to a little restaurant and refueled with this salad. And then I hit the library, BAM.
Today I’m doing a lot of sitting.
And a lot of eating.
Speaking of books: what newly-released books should I be made aware of? I’d love a good read-aloud. (I aim for a middle school level.)
Also, do you know of any good books for teen boys? (Especially ones—books, not boys—that can be downloaded for free through Amazon Prime.)
Because…WE HAVE AMAZON PRIME. We did away with Netflix (whimper) and took the jump into full-blown North American high-speed consumerism and I love it.
Except I’m not really into spending money yet because we have no budget since we can’t find the folder with all our budget papers. Kinda inconvenient, really. Makes me panicky, if I think about it. We had a good system going and now the system is gone and we are going to crash and burn. Especially now that we have Amazon Prime.
We’re figuring out the Kindle downloading thing, and we’re learning how Amazon Instant Streaming works (mainly by getting as much practice as possible via DOWNTON ABBEY SEASON THREE, BABY), and yesterday I realized my plastic wrap wasn’t tough enough, I sat down and ordered my fancy favorite wrap and it will be here tomorrow which is positively amazing!
Except I can’t shake the worry that I’m damaging the environment with all the shipping this and shipping that. But then I think, the UPS truck is making his rounds anyway—is an order here or there going to really make a difference?
My older daughter is now the same shoe size that I am. She is begging for my flip-flops, my sandals, and my boots. Does this mean that if I have a willing and eager recipient for my old (but not completely worn-out) black boots, that I am justified in getting a new pair?
Spanish is (relatively) easy to learn, but it once you start moving between countries, it gets complicated, like so.
When scrolling through this month’s photos in Picasa, I’m always caught off-guard by the pictures at the first of the month…
…and the pictures now.
What different worlds!
Seeing our Guatemala house brings back a wave of memories, rough and jagged and bulky, and my throat constricts. Not because I’m sad or homesick, but because of the intensity of the change. The vast difference. The sharp abruptness.
Here, I have a quart of whipping cream (and a quart of half-and-half!) in my fridge (O, white giantess that stands in the corner, purr-ur-urring), and there I had none. I like (scratch that—adore) my dairy-filled fridge so much better than the little dinky Guatemalan one!
I don’t feel guilty for liking this one better, either. It’s just that there are two worlds and they are so different and I lived in them both and thinking about that makes my throat hurt and my eyes smart.