Some Things Are Better Left To The Imagination

Oh, my bloggy.  I have missed you.  It's one of the few downfalls of having a computer sputter and die.  For the most part, I would be very happy to be a computer-free home.  But then there are the minor details like being able to communicate information to many people with one click.  Or sending someone information that I meant to call them with but then realize the day has disappeared and it's 10:00 at night.  Or needing information and having it be one click away.  Or signing up for something and not needing to mail in forms.  Or wanting an update on my boys, John Carlson and Marcus Trufant, and not needing to wait for the 11:00 news.  Or the kids accessing information that doesn't require me to keep a 400 pound encyclopedia set.  Okay, I guess it's a handy tool to have around.  I guess I like it.  And, with it's slow-onset illness and then sudden death, it has left me at an inopportune time.  And it's made me realize how much easier it makes my life.  I am knee-deep in gathering information that I must pass on to someone, and without any computer it would be even more difficult. 

Fortunately, Brad has rigged up a half-dead laptop to something.  And a half-dead laptop plus a half-dead - um - computer (?) equals a working-enough computer.  I don't know.  Something about a network card, motherboard, and a lot of laborious details that just overwhelm my mind.  I don't care to understand the details.  I just want it all to work when I push the button.  A nice little package of components is due to arrive Tuesday.  That means Brad gets to "work" after work on Tuesday and before long we'll all be back to normal.  And these extra wires will go away.  And I can get to all my email that I've been assured is somewhere.  And I will have proof that all my pictures are safe and sound.  Enough about that...

This day has been one that things in my imagination were much better than my reality.  Bummer.

I started the day with high hopes.

Hopes for my Hawks.

Hopes for waffles.

Hopes for my run.

Twasn't meant to be... 

My Hawks.  Owie.  Two big, literal owies, and one overall owie.  I proudly wore my Carlson jersey the whole game, even though my boy was taken out on the first drive with a scary head injury.  It turned out to be a sign of things to come.  Bummer.  But, they played two weeks longer than they could have, so I can't complain much.  I just will miss watching them.

My waffles.  I was craving waffles in a big way.  I had those coconut waffles with peach topping stuck in my mind.  If my name was Samantha and I was married to Darrin, I would have wiggled my nose and had Kari appear with a glorious plate.  Instead, I mixed up some good 'ole Bisquick waffles and drizzled them with Mrs. Buttersworth.  Not all meals can be a 10 out of 10.

Then, I had a strange desire to see what would happen if I poured brownie batter into the waffle iron.  A fudgy chocolate waffle??  Not so much.  Let's just say it was a complete waste of a perfectly good Ghiradelli brownie mix.  Although, I think I found a great way to make chocolate croutons.  Or a great crunchy topping for ice cream sundaes.

My run.  Owie.  The plan was to run 6 to 6.5 miles.  I was so excited to do that, and felt so excited to get it done.  I woke up with a weird cough, although I feel just fine.  So after the disappointing Hawks game, I hopped on my treadmill  with the kick-off of the Jets game.  I knew I was in trouble when I was wiping sweat 4 MINUTES into the run!  What?!  Everything felt great except my breathing.  The only thing I can find to justify it is all the tightness in my chest from this cough.  But I just could not get into a groove.  I only made it 4.3 miles.  And, yes, I was counting the tenths.  A real runner would say "4 miles".  I'm telling you, it was 4.3!  I was a mess.  It was very, very discouraging.  But tomorrow is a new day!  And I'm imagining it will feel much better.  And this time I'm counting on imagination and reality being friends.

And one more thing I just have to end with:

On Thursday morning I got my hair cut before work.  Now, my hair is as good as it gets when someone with a license to do hair does my hair.  I can say with confidence that it was a good hair day, because it was done by a professional.  I started my day with my reading group, and a newcomer to this group is a special needs little boy.  He, how shall we say this???, lacks social graces.  Sweet, but volatile.  Smart, but struggles a lot.  Eye-contact is not high on his list.  So although he addresses me by name, sometimes you are not even sure if he knows you are in the room.  Within moments of sitting down at his computer, without even looking directly at me, he says, "What did you DO to your hair???"  I told him I got a hair cut.  "Hmm," was his only response.  Not one to let things sit half way, I, of course, had to follow-up with, "Well, do you like it?"  He gave me a sideways glance without turning his head and said, "It's alright, I guess."  I laughed all day about that one.  Just tellin' it like it is.  No reason to pretend.  And this, by the way, from a kid who has a curly rat tail down his neck.  So I had no chance to impress him with my professionally straightened, conservative bob.

There's all the rambling I can handle for today.  And I'd say that's quite enough.