so basically

The job is sucking you dry. I totally get that. But I feel we’ll persevere in our year-end blogging mandate. I do well with mandates, mostly. Less so when they’re self-imposed, but still. Hope – for us and our writing and a lack of fissures in the concrete – propel me forward.

Today my cold has progressed down into my lungs. The usual route of a cold: head, sinuses, nose, spirit, throat, lungs. Lots of hacking today. By my estimates it will reach my toes next Thursday. And then we’ll be done, right? I don’t feel bad enough to go to a doctor and yet. It’s a nagging thing, shaping my day in an un-ideal fashion. Speaking of fashion, I must keep reminding myself to avoid social media today at all costs lest someone spoil the end of Project Runway for me. I have no idea who I’m rooting for, I like them all in a way really, but dammit if someone inadvertently robs me of the suspense.

I love that you’re making smoothies for your volleyball team. And you’re the manatees? I feel like our church team named themselves the mongeese or something equally random yet similar.

It’s foggy outside. And last night there was a crazy thunderstorm J.Lo drove through on his way home from football-watching. And I was fine comforting K.Lo on the living room couch, until such time that I felt her histrionics were put-upon, and then I threw my hands up exasperatedly. Which probably wasn’t nice of me, but clearly that’s a button-issue, when people pretend fear or pain or whatever for the sake of drama. And maybe she wasn’t fully pretending, but I have my suspicions. My capacity to soothe runs deep unless and until it detects an ounce of fakery.

But really I should be better than that, see past the fakery and recognize an equally deep need for soothing. Or whatever.

In the midst of my cold-suffering, I have been crafting a mermaid costume for K.Lo (tail picture to follow) and working with fusible interfacing, which may or may not in my first attempt gotten all over the ironing board. oops. But it’s a neat thing and with it I managed to affix a Toy Story image to a bathrobe I found for N.Lo (he’s always asked for one), for his b-day. To liven it up, since it was plain gray.

Upcoming, I need to create Shrek (the costume) for N.Lo. And cakes, lots of cakes, for Birthday Weekend (N and J.Lo) and then a cake walk at K.Lo’s school next Friday. good grief. Also, I’m reading a CS Lewis book (Mere Christianity) which I’d like J.Lo to also read, but I can sense the suspicion and reluctance from miles away. In an un-Penelope-like fashion, I’m reading more than one book – requisite YA fare, a short story book (wha?), possibly a political satire book (if only the author would refrain from so many exclamation points, but I do enjoy the inclusion of 3-D glasses), and then even a smut book. All these online political rantings have been so conducive to spending less time on FB and more with books. So thanks, political ranters! I am making great strides toward my lifelong goal of computing less, reading more.

Does Cath tend to drop details so explicitly? I didn’t know about the head over heels thing either, although I did infer the possibility from things like the camping recap and the baking of vegan pies. Because what self-respecting carnivore would engage in the latter if not motivated by love. Also, please don’t move to internet-less Russia. It would kill me.

That’s all for now, lest I exhaust all my blogging material in one go. Today is a day of random errands and projects and to-go or not-to-go to bookclub, for which I didn’t read the book, but the company might be nice. But hacking in the privacy of my own home and falling asleep on the couch at 9:30PM might be nicer. Ironically I suppose I wouldn’t have been up for the cancelled concert after all. But J still seems disappointed in me, or annoyed, or maybe she is just busy with moving. Combo? I try not to over-analyze that one, because silence for weeks at a time is standard. Although usually it’s a comfortable silence, and not a stony one. But maybe I’m imagining the stone. Likely. But not impossible.

Over-analytically yours,

penelope