If I was in AA this would be a pretty good starting sentence.
As a writer, it's a little bit sad.
I completely blame my dad.
He came for a thrown together at the last second 3 week long visit to paint my house and my mother-in laws house. That means for 3 weeks I was busy hanging with my dad. In my life that sentence is unprecedented. My dad has worked excessively hard my entire life with very few vacations or breaks of any kind. Him being here and meeting my daughter and getting to know my boys was a very big deal.
Oh yeah, and my house now looks extremely awesome too. Well, most of it. It rained while he was trying to mad dash finish my house before he left. So despite his 13 hour work days trying to get it done I have little bits to finish. Of course this translates into probably won't be finished ever because I am allergic to finishing projects. Why isn't there medication for this affliction? The best cure currently available is putting on your big girl pants and they have yet to make a pair big enough to handle all my afflictions so I remain in the land of almost finished aka well, it seemed like a good idea....
Around the time my dad left my hybrid highlander forever car broke and became my worst nightmare. Then my husband became my worst nightmare as he went completely off the deep end about the awfulness of our situation. Don't get me wrong, I was barely hang on in the deep end and spent way too much time staring at the pits of despair but he had me beat by a mile. Don't you love it when I mix metaphors? That brings us to 2 weeks ago when I was finally able to find a new to us car to buy and off load my broken dreams onto a hapless by stander (or well informed craigslist acquaintance). I still need to go to the DMV but I've been saving that drama for another day (although according to my paperwork that day is fast approaching.) I note this momentous occasion so that you may store it away as a cautionary tale. Do not by hybrid without a very good warranty.
2 weeks ago my husbands brother and sister and their families came to visit for Thanksgiving and life became a mad dash of trips to Kihei (a whopping 15 minutes away!), biting my tongue, experiencing what life would be like with 5 kids, and generally experiencing the definition of the phrase "at the beck and call." My kids loved spending time with family and my husband with his siblings is a sight that all should behold so I'm voting it time well spent.
Now we come to today. The day after I went to a nightclub. I don't drink and yet I still feel hungover with a pounding headache. There are sights from the night that I can't unsee. I'm also pretty sure there is photographic evidence of my husband and I dancing....very badly and with no timing. I chalk it up to the things you do at holiday work parties. I also wore glittery shoes, again I chalk it up to the things you do at holiday work parties. The moral of this story is, don't invite me to holiday work parties.
And that's all folks!
This post is in honor of my dad who always reads my blogs out loud in his kitchen and my sweet friend who sat me down at the holiday work party to remind me that I hadn't written a blog for awhile. Thanks for the support, I hereby dub you my first super fans. Now I'm back in the saddle and the drivel will spill on a more consistent basis (at least for a little while)
