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Unable to Pull It Off

Funny thing happened today…my mom stopped by (she generally does on Sunday), and she looks around my kitchen. Now you know the ‘mom look’, as if she is saying a million things in her head–“dirty floor, dirty counter, just look at those piled up dishes.” So I save her the trouble and make the remark, “I try not to do much on Sundays”. In which she remarks, “how about the other days of the week?” I wonder sometimes where I get my mouth?! Um…I’m getting to it, mother! Sometime later. I like to think I can multitask, but the truth is it’s getting more difficult. Especially when I walk from the kitchen to the pantry and stare blankly at the shelves trying to remember why I walked in there.

This week I must really try my best at even ‘tasking’. Don’t you hate going into the week with your plate full? Like having to do a gazillion things and then trying to fit in remembering to call this place or that about really important things you forgot about last week. Eek.

This week also my baby turns 18. 18! 18! Must this continue? Haven’t I already given society my first born and watch him come and go on summer and fall breaks? Walk slowly by his empty room the other times and know he’s only good for 2 more summers in it before maturity sets in and asks that he get gainful employment and a real life. Why must I do this with my second son. What does he care? He’s moving up and out. Lonely for us, future for him.

My little Margie went to stay with an aunt while I go out of town for my birthday. I must say it’s a bit quiet around here without the little stalker/big mouth. I do fuss about her obnoxious behavior but when it comes right down to it, she’s one of the gang. I won’t miss, however, the way she throws food. Get this, she doesn’t eat a morsel all day while I’m gone (even though it’s in her bowl). Then when I come home, she eats like there’s no tomorrow. Does she want me to watch she doesn’t choke? Is she the type that won’t go into a restaurant and ask for a table for one? Who knows. I pick her up April 9th. I wonder if she’ll miss me, too? Cute, right? Yep, she’s all of three pounds of sass. I miss you, Marge. Come home soon.

For all of you guys, have a splendid week and I’ll keep you posted if anyone else turns of legal age and plans to move on! Cheers.

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