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Take Cheese Puffs for example

I can’t just eat one. Cheese puffs are my weakness. I’m not addicted by any means…until I open the bag. And then, let’s say, it’s my life’s mission to finish them until you can’t see that my fingers were once flesh toned. So I have to be careful when such a bag is purchased. I have to pour from…not eat directly from the container. The same goes for popcorn. And I must admit, it could be painful to watch me eat popcorn. Nothing like what’s depicted in this picture of Garfield. Nope, I eat one at a time. Sucking the salt from every popped kernel of the bowl. The large bowl. And this is how it goes for some of my choice picks in life. Transition to television…

As of late, I’ve taken to a new series. Ah, series. May I never watch prime time television again. I couldn’t possibly wait for the next week’s episode. No, I’ve gotta have it all right now. All 22 episodes to each of the seven seasons. It’s a problem, I fear. I’m locked into this thing like nothing else. I could walk the streets of this show and live quite normal. Talk to the characters and get great insight to their well beings. If they had any. I’m starting to remind myself of the crazy lady on Misery. lol

Enough about that. On to other things on my wondrous mind. Do you ever think in your mind that you’re happy you’re not so-in-so? Like living their life would be the pits? I admit, I sometimes do. Then I wondered tonight, ‘does someone ever think the same of me?’ Like, do they see my life as a train they hope they never catch? Food for thought. Luckily I’m ignorant to my own plight. I live it everyday. I’m immune to its every day taste. It’s like raising my kid and never seeing him grow. Uncle whoever shows up and his jaw drops at the six inches he’s grown since he last visited. This is a good thing. I guess.

It’s fall now. I’ve said it before, this season depresses me. Don’t get me wrong, I love it. The cooler weather, the change of colors, and the sweaters…thank the Lord for sweaters. Now I don’t look like a total geek wearing sweaters indoors. It’s cooler temperature, sure they matter! But then there’s the darker hour coming earlier, the less chatter of summer bugs and more chaos of annoying crickets. The land becomes barren, the trees get skinnier without foliage, and outside just gets sad. It’s a love-hate thing with me and fall.

So far, 3 of my kids have been sick because of this fall. I took 2 to the doctor last week. I hate when I regret doing that. But it had been three weeks of coughing. At what time do you take them? They didn’t have a fever, but the incessant coughing was getting out of hand. Surely it had gone bacterial by now, I thought. That’s what my normal doctor would’ve said. Had she been not retired and I was now forced to see an assistant to the assistant. *head palm* Yes, that assistant….she advised saline. Okay, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want her to prescribe a pharmacy at the first murmur of a cough, but this was 3 weeks. Incessant. To the point I told both of them to be quiet. Who does that? They’re coughing lungs up. But it was grating. On everyone. So I told the assistant to the assistant, “Can I just please get 2 prescriptions to go? Just in case it takes more than saline? You know, to make me feel like this $320 out of pocket visit is really worth it?” And so I’m the proud owner of 2 scripts for antibiotics. I’ll get it filled for sure. I earned that. Miraculously they’ve been coughing less. Even sans the saline. Who knows. Either way, I’ve got something to fight it with should it so boldly return as it did.

I’m off to contemplate some more. It’s a dangerous thing, you know. 🙂

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Plans for the Weekend…

1422499085254So this week was almost a complete bust for me going to work. My son came down with strep throat…the nasty kind. Usually when he gets it, it shocks us all…like the nurse comes in after pulling a splinter out of his finger and says, “oh by the way, he’s got strep.” Half the time I think they’re lying. He never has symptoms. Not so this time. He spent the day outside in crazy 80 degree weather, then comes in and falls over sick–his tonsils almost touching in the back of his throat, and his stomach hurting so bad that he’s doubled over. “What the heck?” And so I was home for days with him, stomach crap and all. Then on the day I thought I’d go to work, my daughter comes and says she’s not so well. I take that back, she rides all the way to school, (30 miles, one way), grabs a bag from the floor of the car, and says she’s not going to make it. So back home I go. Tomorrow I’ll return to work. Fingers crossed, that is.

So this weekend…I wish I could report I had date-like plans. Like when I was single and the weekend was my oyster. Day of shopping, anyone? No? How about brunch after sleeping in, and a movie before dinner? Not a chance. Now, I look to Saturday as Costco day. I don’t even feed my kids lunch–they love sampling everything that store has to offer. My youngest stands in the same line a few times, for the things he loves. Hey, it’s the best part of their day to go sampling. Whatever. I end up with a gazillion rolls of paper towels and toilet paper, six hundred trash bags, and a couple bottles of syrup that it takes me the year to consume. But it’s the way to go for the price. And eventually they do eat all the packs of quaker bars. To their dismay. 1d48438388dd3f4356f304e7e0443cc5

To all the singles out there, “have a great one!” Sleep in and think of me. And to the ones with a clown car full of kids, “see ya at the grocery store!”

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