One of the things that I love about this time of the year are all the Christmas cards from friends and family, and I especially love getting the generic Christmas letters that some people send out to everyone on their list.
I'm not being sarcastic when I say that, either. I think it stems from my grandmother. She wrote Christmas letters every year that I can ever remember, and I used to love reading them, especially to see what she'd written about me (there's nobody like a grandma to make you feel like queen of the world, even if in reality you were a totally shy, nerdy girl!). I still have several of them that were sent to me once I had grown up, married, and moved out on my own, and I absolutely love reading over these snapshots from the past. Not only do they bring back memories long forgotten, but it's a little like having her back with us. I can practically hear her voice in my head as I read them. Since my grandparent's were both blind, I had the privileged job of being "reader of the mail" from the time I was in 4th grade. At Christmas-time, I looked forward to reading those letters from their friends as much as they enjoyed hearing them.
I know some people complain that those letters are "impersonal," but I know how busy my own life is, and if I had to write a completely personal letter to each person on my mailing list, it just wouldn't happen. In fact, if I'm being totally honest (as the post title suggests I will be), I'm doing well on the year's I actually MAIL my cards. I dutifully buy them each year, but I probably average every-other year in actually sending out my Christmas greetings. I'm working on it. As of today, I still haven't mailed out this year's greetings, but it WILL happen, even if I have to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and Easter Blessings, all at the same time! Anyway, I understand that my life is not the only one that's scarily out-of-control, so I love reading my own friends' letters to catch up on their lives, especially those that I don't get to visit with as often as I'd like.
I'm bound and determined to get mine sent out by the end of this week, but I want to include my own letter as I've done the past few years (at least those where I was on the ball!). Here's the problem, though: I don't know what to write. 2008 hasn't been the worst year for us, all things considered, but it hasn't been the best either. I know that we can't be alone in this, and I have to wonder just how many of the letters I receive are "padded" a bit to make life sound good. It seems like every one has a perfect marriage, perfect kids, perfect jobs, ad nauseum...
Have you been to my home? Perfect we ain't! So, in the spirit of getting "real" this year, here are my proposed highlights:
Tom has worked as service manager of the automotive shop for another year without going totally insane, especially given the state of the economy, the cost of gas to get back and forth, and the attitudes of certain underlings who also happen to be the boss' sons. The eye twitch has subsided with medication, and we feel positive that the anger management classes will be a grand success!
Tracy continues to work at the university where she always feels like a loved and highly valued employee. The gray highlights in her hair continue to fill in nicely, and she's excited to have added 57,000 miles in the last year to her vehicle shuttling surly teenagers from event to event. Referred to fondly as "Momster," she lives only for her childrens' needs and asks nothing in return. Except back rubs, which she NEVER gets.
Evan is on a real roll and has remained ungrounded, through sheer luck and deception, consistently since the end of October! We go into the next year with high hopes that he will pass the 10th grade, and he'll probably only have to take a few hours of summer school to reach this goal.
Braden looks up to Evan as a real role-model and is following in his scholarly footsteps. In other highlights, he almost shot his first elk earlier in the year, and would have had it had he BROUGHT more than just one bullet from the truck parked 3000 vertical feet and 2 miles away in snow a mere 3-feet deep.
Savannah continues to be a "daddy's girl," honing the much-needed future skills of manipulation and perfection of "head games" on her unsuspecting father. Sadly, she has frequently fallen ill. It's some sort of new disease that is brought on solely when asked to complete some chore around the house or in her bedroom.
So there you have it! The true goings-on from the Jones family. At least it'll make you feel better about your own life!
Merry Christmas everyone... :-)
December 17, 2008
December 13, 2008
Daddy/Daughter Conversations
Savannah rides her morning school bus with a couple of little cretins, errr, I mean little boys, that pick on her. This pair has been dealt with many times by the bus driver (not just for picking on S), but the problems never seem to get solved. Because of this, last year Tom started giving her a ride to school each morning, which has worked out really well. I have to wake up earlier than they do to get to work on time, so I usually get ready in blissful silence (at least after the boys leave!), and then I wake them both up just minutes before heading out the door. Savannah is totally a daddy's girl, so I just assumed that this was good quality time for the pair.
A few days ago I had another one of my sleepless nights, and I just could NOT drag myself out of bed on time and opted to gain at least 1 more hour of sleep before heading to work. Tom had an appointment at 10 a.m. which meant he also got to sleep in a little before showing up for it. Sooo... I decided that I would take Savannah with me when I left and drop her off at school. I don't know if it was just because she doesn't get to see me much in the mornings, but she was in full-on chat mode. She talked my ear off, never once stopping to catch a breath! Tom wandered in after I sent her in for cereal, and made the comment "Wow... she hardly ever talks to me... She just looks at me really weird." Hmmm... There were so many ways I could have responded, but I decided to be nice and didn't take the bait!
As I was driving her to school, I decided to approach the subject to see if I could figure out why.
Me: So Daddy says that you don't hardly even talk to him in the mornings... How come you don't?
Savannah: Because he's a GUY, and they just don't like to say as many words (this stated with the tone of voice "Duh mom!"). Plus, he doesn't do GIRL talk...
Me: O-Kay... He also says that you look at him weirdly... What's that all about?
Savannah: (Real matter-of-factly, indeed, almost cheerfully): Oh, that's because he's got blood all over.
Me: What??!!!
Savannah: You know, from where he gets cut shaving.
Needless to say, I giggled the rest of the way to work. Later in the day I told Tom that I had figured out his problems, and shared the story with him. Yesterday, he called me after he got to work to tell me that things had gone much better, and she talked to him more.
To help set the conversation up, however, you need to know a little information about our darling Tweener. Savannah has recently been traumatized by the fact that two of her cousins who are only 2 years older than she have started wearing training bras. The horror! All of a sudden, you can't even say the word without her saying "that's disgusting!" I keep explaining to her that she'd better get used to the idea, because baby, your time is coming soon!
Anyway, back to the original story. Here's how their conversation went:
Tom: So what kind of GIRL talk should we talk about?!
Savannah (looking at him to see if she'd really heard correctly): Umm, I don't know..
Tom: Should we talk about BRAS!
Savannah (giggling): DADDY!
I think the ice has been broken. :-)
A few days ago I had another one of my sleepless nights, and I just could NOT drag myself out of bed on time and opted to gain at least 1 more hour of sleep before heading to work. Tom had an appointment at 10 a.m. which meant he also got to sleep in a little before showing up for it. Sooo... I decided that I would take Savannah with me when I left and drop her off at school. I don't know if it was just because she doesn't get to see me much in the mornings, but she was in full-on chat mode. She talked my ear off, never once stopping to catch a breath! Tom wandered in after I sent her in for cereal, and made the comment "Wow... she hardly ever talks to me... She just looks at me really weird." Hmmm... There were so many ways I could have responded, but I decided to be nice and didn't take the bait!
As I was driving her to school, I decided to approach the subject to see if I could figure out why.
Me: So Daddy says that you don't hardly even talk to him in the mornings... How come you don't?
Savannah: Because he's a GUY, and they just don't like to say as many words (this stated with the tone of voice "Duh mom!"). Plus, he doesn't do GIRL talk...
Me: O-Kay... He also says that you look at him weirdly... What's that all about?
Savannah: (Real matter-of-factly, indeed, almost cheerfully): Oh, that's because he's got blood all over.
Me: What??!!!
Savannah: You know, from where he gets cut shaving.
Needless to say, I giggled the rest of the way to work. Later in the day I told Tom that I had figured out his problems, and shared the story with him. Yesterday, he called me after he got to work to tell me that things had gone much better, and she talked to him more.
To help set the conversation up, however, you need to know a little information about our darling Tweener. Savannah has recently been traumatized by the fact that two of her cousins who are only 2 years older than she have started wearing training bras. The horror! All of a sudden, you can't even say the word without her saying "that's disgusting!" I keep explaining to her that she'd better get used to the idea, because baby, your time is coming soon!
Anyway, back to the original story. Here's how their conversation went:
Tom: So what kind of GIRL talk should we talk about?!
Savannah (looking at him to see if she'd really heard correctly): Umm, I don't know..
Tom: Should we talk about BRAS!
Savannah (giggling): DADDY!
I think the ice has been broken. :-)
December 5, 2008
Not exactly my style, but...
...it was pretty sweet all the same.
As I've said before, I really love listening to my favorite music. The boys, Tom, and Savannah all have their own favorite tunes too, of course. Each of our tastes are often VERY different, although there's usually a few places where common ground can be reached: Chris LeDoux, Toby Keith, etc.
Braden is my truly musical child. He has always been able to carry a tune beautifully (which he did not get from me), although now that he's hit puberty he sometimes hits an odd note. I love to sing, but I can truly say that I suck. When the kids were little, there were no lullabies in the world that came from my mouth that would calm the kids; I daresay that they usually cried harder after my feeble attempts to soothe them.
Anyway, back to Braden. In addition to being a really good singer, he also is very talented on both piano and guitar, even though he's never really had lessons. A few years ago, Savannah had wanted to start piano lessons. We do not have any room in our house for a piano (although I would LOVE to), so my mom got her an electric keyboard that she could keep in her room. Unfortunately, the person I'd hired to provide the lessons quit teaching before we'd even arranged the first lesson (but not before I'd bought all the books she told us we'd need; arrgghh!). Since then, I just haven't done anything about it.
Braden can hear a song on the radio and then get on the keyboard and pick the notes out by ear. He amazes me! He has been able to do the same thing on his guitar. This trimester at his school, he FINALLY is taking a guitar class, something I've wanted to give him forever, but we just couldn't ever afford it. For the past few days he has been practicing at home, continuously playing the intro to AC/DC's "Iron Man" song. As I said, we don't exactly have the same tastes!
Earlier tonight, Braden came in, insisting that I listen to him "just this one more time." As he played, he ad-libbed the words, changing it to "I love my mom..." There was a lot more to it (ad-libbing and usually ruining songs is another talent he has. He has forever ruined the song "Return to Pooh Corner" by Loggins and Messina for me. I won't tell you the words he's come up with, but suffice it to say that Pooh, Tigger, and Owl do NOT fare well in his warped version.).
So, even though I would prefer to hear him croon Jim Croce's "I'll Have to Say I Love You In a Song," I'll take what I can get!
As I've said before, I really love listening to my favorite music. The boys, Tom, and Savannah all have their own favorite tunes too, of course. Each of our tastes are often VERY different, although there's usually a few places where common ground can be reached: Chris LeDoux, Toby Keith, etc.
Braden is my truly musical child. He has always been able to carry a tune beautifully (which he did not get from me), although now that he's hit puberty he sometimes hits an odd note. I love to sing, but I can truly say that I suck. When the kids were little, there were no lullabies in the world that came from my mouth that would calm the kids; I daresay that they usually cried harder after my feeble attempts to soothe them.
Anyway, back to Braden. In addition to being a really good singer, he also is very talented on both piano and guitar, even though he's never really had lessons. A few years ago, Savannah had wanted to start piano lessons. We do not have any room in our house for a piano (although I would LOVE to), so my mom got her an electric keyboard that she could keep in her room. Unfortunately, the person I'd hired to provide the lessons quit teaching before we'd even arranged the first lesson (but not before I'd bought all the books she told us we'd need; arrgghh!). Since then, I just haven't done anything about it.
Braden can hear a song on the radio and then get on the keyboard and pick the notes out by ear. He amazes me! He has been able to do the same thing on his guitar. This trimester at his school, he FINALLY is taking a guitar class, something I've wanted to give him forever, but we just couldn't ever afford it. For the past few days he has been practicing at home, continuously playing the intro to AC/DC's "Iron Man" song. As I said, we don't exactly have the same tastes!
Earlier tonight, Braden came in, insisting that I listen to him "just this one more time." As he played, he ad-libbed the words, changing it to "I love my mom..." There was a lot more to it (ad-libbing and usually ruining songs is another talent he has. He has forever ruined the song "Return to Pooh Corner" by Loggins and Messina for me. I won't tell you the words he's come up with, but suffice it to say that Pooh, Tigger, and Owl do NOT fare well in his warped version.).
So, even though I would prefer to hear him croon Jim Croce's "I'll Have to Say I Love You In a Song," I'll take what I can get!
December 1, 2008
My favorite Black Friday
This past Friday I slept in until about 9:00 a.m. and then wandered out of the house around 10:30 to hit the stores, without kids - usually my idea of heaven on earth. I wasn't really in the mood for the typical craziness that accompanies the day, so I wandered aimlessly through a dozen stores or more, wondering more than once WHY I continued on when I obviously wasn't in the mood. I am really trying to get into the Christmas spirit, but I would love to find a way to make the focus more on the meaning of the day and less about the "gimme" attitude that people seem to focus on. The clerk I talked to at Wal-Mart (where I bought milk and cereal, nothing else) told me that there had been three fights that morning and they'd even had to call the ambulance for one of them. What's wrong with this picture?!
I had never done a "Black Friday" shopping spree until about five years ago when my mom somehow convinced me that it would be "fun" to stay over on Thanksgiving, sharing the couch with 2 dogs, and then wake up before the crack of dawn to go out in the freezing cold. Great, sign me up! And you know, it really was fun, if for no other reason than nobody else in the family (in other words, the kids) wanted to tag along, so we actually had quality time just the two of us, which never happens anymore. We enjoyed it so much that we did it again the next year.
Three years ago, just weeks before Thanksgiving, I ended up having to have a hysterectomy. Me being me, it couldn't just be an easy, stay-for-1-night, typical operation, and I ended up having pretty severe internal bleeding and an emergency operation again the next day to fix the problem. Needless to say, it was not a fun time and my recuperation time was extended quite a bit. I definitely wasn't up for sleeping with the dogs on the couch and going out early! However, being the bargain shopper that I am, I couldn't help but look through the pounds of ads in the paper that day.
On Black Friday, I was feeling more than a little sad because I couldn't be out with the crowds, finding all the great deals, or more importantly, having that important "mommy-daughter" time that I'd come to look forward to. Tom, showing a husband's true love, took pity on me and took me out (although NOT at the crack of dawn) to Wal-Mart. This from the man who suffers from a severe case of "mall leg" if he even steps foot in our small, local grocery-store! Anyway, he bundled me up, drove me to Wal-Mart on the busiest day of the year, got me situated in one of those electric carts they provide for those who need them, and gamely followed behind me. I just have to say that driving those carts is not as easy as it looks, especially if there happens to be 3,000 people crammed into the same aisle as you. We laughed our way through the store with him liberally apologizing for my lack of driving abilities. I was terrible!
That year I did most of my shopping online, and I honestly can't remember if we found any treasures that had to be taken home with us that day, but I will never forget the fun we had and the sacrifice he made to take me ... I do believe it was the LAST time he's ever been there even though I'm pretty sure his shins have healed by now.
:-)
I had never done a "Black Friday" shopping spree until about five years ago when my mom somehow convinced me that it would be "fun" to stay over on Thanksgiving, sharing the couch with 2 dogs, and then wake up before the crack of dawn to go out in the freezing cold. Great, sign me up! And you know, it really was fun, if for no other reason than nobody else in the family (in other words, the kids) wanted to tag along, so we actually had quality time just the two of us, which never happens anymore. We enjoyed it so much that we did it again the next year.
Three years ago, just weeks before Thanksgiving, I ended up having to have a hysterectomy. Me being me, it couldn't just be an easy, stay-for-1-night, typical operation, and I ended up having pretty severe internal bleeding and an emergency operation again the next day to fix the problem. Needless to say, it was not a fun time and my recuperation time was extended quite a bit. I definitely wasn't up for sleeping with the dogs on the couch and going out early! However, being the bargain shopper that I am, I couldn't help but look through the pounds of ads in the paper that day.
On Black Friday, I was feeling more than a little sad because I couldn't be out with the crowds, finding all the great deals, or more importantly, having that important "mommy-daughter" time that I'd come to look forward to. Tom, showing a husband's true love, took pity on me and took me out (although NOT at the crack of dawn) to Wal-Mart. This from the man who suffers from a severe case of "mall leg" if he even steps foot in our small, local grocery-store! Anyway, he bundled me up, drove me to Wal-Mart on the busiest day of the year, got me situated in one of those electric carts they provide for those who need them, and gamely followed behind me. I just have to say that driving those carts is not as easy as it looks, especially if there happens to be 3,000 people crammed into the same aisle as you. We laughed our way through the store with him liberally apologizing for my lack of driving abilities. I was terrible!
That year I did most of my shopping online, and I honestly can't remember if we found any treasures that had to be taken home with us that day, but I will never forget the fun we had and the sacrifice he made to take me ... I do believe it was the LAST time he's ever been there even though I'm pretty sure his shins have healed by now.
:-)
November 29, 2008
Never too young to mess with...
Tonight Savannah came into our bedroom holding a small, white scrap of paper in her hands.
In a worried little voice she asked, "Mama, what's a consumer (pronounced 'kahn-soomer')"?
Thinking that she had been watching television reports on Christmas spending or something similar, I replied that it's a person who buys something.
She silently held out the slip of paper, ripped off of her mattress just moments before:
"UNDER PENALTY OF LAW
THIS TAG NOT TO BE REMOVED
EXCEPT BY THE CONSUMER"
"Will I get in trouble if I take this off?" was her next timid question.
My motherly response, said with a completely straight face: "Oh man, I'm sorry, but you are sooo going to jail..."
Sometimes I really don't know what gets into me, but I can't seem to help myself. What fun is having children if you can't mess with their minds, just a little!
In a worried little voice she asked, "Mama, what's a consumer (pronounced 'kahn-soomer')"?
Thinking that she had been watching television reports on Christmas spending or something similar, I replied that it's a person who buys something.
She silently held out the slip of paper, ripped off of her mattress just moments before:
"UNDER PENALTY OF LAW
THIS TAG NOT TO BE REMOVED
EXCEPT BY THE CONSUMER"
"Will I get in trouble if I take this off?" was her next timid question.
My motherly response, said with a completely straight face: "Oh man, I'm sorry, but you are sooo going to jail..."
Sometimes I really don't know what gets into me, but I can't seem to help myself. What fun is having children if you can't mess with their minds, just a little!
November 26, 2008
Mommy Melt-Downs
Every so often, my children push me into what I have come to not-so-endearingly call my "mommy meltdown mode." You know, the kind where after you're done, you're not sure who's older, you or them. Or you suddenly realize that you've reclaimed your own "inner child" when you're stamping your foot and whining like a 2-year old. I know I'm not alone in this, even though, like me, most of us are probably more than a little embarassed to admit it. At least, I HOPE I'm not alone in it!
Anyway, life has been kind of stressful for the last several weeks, both at work and at home. You'd think, after being raised by such a calm, caring, incredibly PATIENT mother, the adorable offspring would be more than willing to lay off of each other so as to bring peace and harmony to their stressed out mother.
Yeah, not so much at my house either.
Even though the work-week has been a short one, it really has felt like MUCH longer, and I was sooooo looking forward to just coming home and relaxing. Before I could even pull out of the parking lot, my cell phone rang with marching orders from the teens in my life to rent a certain movie, pick up McDonald's french fries (I promise I'll pay you back as soon as you get here!) and purchase highly-sugared and caffeinated soda. Since it's Thanksgiving-eve, I thought I'd do them the favor and comply with the demands.
I went to 2 Redboxes, a grocery store, and finally the drug store before I could find the movie in question. I rushed home, french fries in hand (literally - I only ate 4! It's a good thing I have to watch the stupid salt-thing or I probably would have gobbled them all) to spend time with my lovely children. Unfortunately, all 3 of them had school off today, so they'd been home doing apparently everything except their chores. So, mean mom that I am, I started barking out orders to get everything done. Then, I noticed my camera on the kitchen table (emphasis on the "my" - the kids don't seem to understand that). Somebody, the universal "Not Me" that abides in the home of every child, has taken the memory card out of it, and nobody knows where it is. We have torn the house apart looking for it, but it's just gone. The card has all the pictures that I've taken in the last two months: halloween, Evan's birthday party, the trip to Bear Lake, etc. GONE. Nobody knows who did it, and honestly, nobody cares. Here she goes again... you can hear in their deep sighs. They're just so picked on!
It wouldn't drive me quite so crazy if this were the first time that I've dealt with this particular problem. But it's not. Not quite 2 years ago, "Not Me" took the first card which had all of our summer hiking pictures on it; it eventually turned up AFTER it had been through the washer in somebody's pants pocket. When Josh came home on leave this past summer, Evan took his memory card from his camera to download all the pictures onto the computer and then promptly lost it. The good news is that we have now found that one in the search for mine (I'll mail it to you!). Words cannot tell you how frustrated I am...
Then, as if by mutual agreement, they've all been particularly hyper tonight. Bray and Savannah were wrestling around. Here's how that conversation went:
Mom: "You two had better settle down before someo....
Savannah: ** Cries of Anguish **
Mom: "...ne gets hurt."
Gosh, who saw that coming?
I really am thankful for my family, but at this moment, I'm most thankful that tomorrow's a holiday, and I get to sleep in!
Deep sigh of my own...
Anyway, life has been kind of stressful for the last several weeks, both at work and at home. You'd think, after being raised by such a calm, caring, incredibly PATIENT mother, the adorable offspring would be more than willing to lay off of each other so as to bring peace and harmony to their stressed out mother.
Yeah, not so much at my house either.
Even though the work-week has been a short one, it really has felt like MUCH longer, and I was sooooo looking forward to just coming home and relaxing. Before I could even pull out of the parking lot, my cell phone rang with marching orders from the teens in my life to rent a certain movie, pick up McDonald's french fries (I promise I'll pay you back as soon as you get here!) and purchase highly-sugared and caffeinated soda. Since it's Thanksgiving-eve, I thought I'd do them the favor and comply with the demands.
I went to 2 Redboxes, a grocery store, and finally the drug store before I could find the movie in question. I rushed home, french fries in hand (literally - I only ate 4! It's a good thing I have to watch the stupid salt-thing or I probably would have gobbled them all) to spend time with my lovely children. Unfortunately, all 3 of them had school off today, so they'd been home doing apparently everything except their chores. So, mean mom that I am, I started barking out orders to get everything done. Then, I noticed my camera on the kitchen table (emphasis on the "my" - the kids don't seem to understand that). Somebody, the universal "Not Me" that abides in the home of every child, has taken the memory card out of it, and nobody knows where it is. We have torn the house apart looking for it, but it's just gone. The card has all the pictures that I've taken in the last two months: halloween, Evan's birthday party, the trip to Bear Lake, etc. GONE. Nobody knows who did it, and honestly, nobody cares. Here she goes again... you can hear in their deep sighs. They're just so picked on!
It wouldn't drive me quite so crazy if this were the first time that I've dealt with this particular problem. But it's not. Not quite 2 years ago, "Not Me" took the first card which had all of our summer hiking pictures on it; it eventually turned up AFTER it had been through the washer in somebody's pants pocket. When Josh came home on leave this past summer, Evan took his memory card from his camera to download all the pictures onto the computer and then promptly lost it. The good news is that we have now found that one in the search for mine (I'll mail it to you!). Words cannot tell you how frustrated I am...
Then, as if by mutual agreement, they've all been particularly hyper tonight. Bray and Savannah were wrestling around. Here's how that conversation went:
Mom: "You two had better settle down before someo....
Savannah: ** Cries of Anguish **
Mom: "...ne gets hurt."
Gosh, who saw that coming?
I really am thankful for my family, but at this moment, I'm most thankful that tomorrow's a holiday, and I get to sleep in!
Deep sigh of my own...
November 15, 2008
I may have to disown him... :)
Sorry for being gone so long... I don't know if it's just because I've been in a bit of a funk (true), if my children haven't been overly cute (somewhat true), if they haven't been overly obnoxious (untrue, but there are only so many blogs you can write about beating your head against the wall), or if I just have no life and, thus, nothing worthwhile to write about (also true). :)
Anyway, I figured it was time to get back to it before silence becomes a habit.
The other night, after driving home in the darkness (can I just say that I really hate the time change) I entered the house to see that Braden was asleep on the couch and therefore had not even started on cleaning the kitchen, his chore for the week. I powered on the laptop and settled in to check my email, read my favorite blogs, and check my facebook account. I recently replaced my mp3 player, which had been broken for the past several months, so I've been happily listening to my favorite tunes again, something I haven't done FOREVER. I don't know about other people, but I absolutely love music. There's nothing else that I can think of that speaks to my soul in quite the same way, regardless of my mood.
I know that my musical taste is a bit different, especially for a girl who came of age in the '80's. I sat at the table happily listening to my tunes, while Braden kept taking "breaks" from his dishes to come steal the headphones out of my ears. Two of my all-time favorite singers are James Taylor and Jim Croce, and I find them especially comforting when I'm feeling like I have been. There's just something so soothing about each of their voices and their songs just capture my mood. Anyway, every time Braden would steal from me, he'd find me listening to some slow ballad. After about the third time, he pronounced that James Taylor "sucks." In the words of a favorite book of mine, he "took out my heart and stomped that sucker flat."
Obviously, today's kids have absolutely no musical taste! I guess that I have truly arrived as a mother, fighting with my child about what is or is not music. Fortunately I know better than he...
Anyway, this probably-boring story makes me want to share the story behind my blog name. When I first thought about starting the blog, I could not for the life of me decide on a name for it - something that kept me stumped and not writing for at least a month after I decided to take the plunge. It finally came to me one day as I was driving to work, listening to the radio. My man James' song Up On A Roof was playing on the radio, and once again, the words really spoke to me:
"When this old world starts a-getting me down
And people are just too much for me to face,
I’ll climb way up to the top of the stairs
And all my cares just drift right into space.
On the roof, it’s peaceful as can be
And there the world below don’t bother me.
So when I come home feeling tired and weak,
I’ll go up where the air is fresh and sweet.
I’ll get far away from the hustle and crowd
And all that rat race noise down in the street."
So, there you have it. These ramblings of mine, as I've often said, are here to record the varied goings-on in our life, but it has also provided me my own "rooftop at the top of the stairs" where I can go to get refreshed.
Happier postings soon... :)
Anyway, I figured it was time to get back to it before silence becomes a habit.
The other night, after driving home in the darkness (can I just say that I really hate the time change) I entered the house to see that Braden was asleep on the couch and therefore had not even started on cleaning the kitchen, his chore for the week. I powered on the laptop and settled in to check my email, read my favorite blogs, and check my facebook account. I recently replaced my mp3 player, which had been broken for the past several months, so I've been happily listening to my favorite tunes again, something I haven't done FOREVER. I don't know about other people, but I absolutely love music. There's nothing else that I can think of that speaks to my soul in quite the same way, regardless of my mood.
I know that my musical taste is a bit different, especially for a girl who came of age in the '80's. I sat at the table happily listening to my tunes, while Braden kept taking "breaks" from his dishes to come steal the headphones out of my ears. Two of my all-time favorite singers are James Taylor and Jim Croce, and I find them especially comforting when I'm feeling like I have been. There's just something so soothing about each of their voices and their songs just capture my mood. Anyway, every time Braden would steal from me, he'd find me listening to some slow ballad. After about the third time, he pronounced that James Taylor "sucks." In the words of a favorite book of mine, he "took out my heart and stomped that sucker flat."
Obviously, today's kids have absolutely no musical taste! I guess that I have truly arrived as a mother, fighting with my child about what is or is not music. Fortunately I know better than he...
Anyway, this probably-boring story makes me want to share the story behind my blog name. When I first thought about starting the blog, I could not for the life of me decide on a name for it - something that kept me stumped and not writing for at least a month after I decided to take the plunge. It finally came to me one day as I was driving to work, listening to the radio. My man James' song Up On A Roof was playing on the radio, and once again, the words really spoke to me:
"When this old world starts a-getting me down
And people are just too much for me to face,
I’ll climb way up to the top of the stairs
And all my cares just drift right into space.
On the roof, it’s peaceful as can be
And there the world below don’t bother me.
So when I come home feeling tired and weak,
I’ll go up where the air is fresh and sweet.
I’ll get far away from the hustle and crowd
And all that rat race noise down in the street."
So, there you have it. These ramblings of mine, as I've often said, are here to record the varied goings-on in our life, but it has also provided me my own "rooftop at the top of the stairs" where I can go to get refreshed.
Happier postings soon... :)
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