Tomorrow I leave for upstate New York. It's the last time I'll go there to help out the Middle Brother. They're moving, you see. To Utah. I'll be helping out, but on my own turf.
Because it is the last time, I must remember to do all the things I love. It feels a little bit like saying goodbye to home.
Ma and I are driving.
Yes, we are, in fact, crazy.
I got a big, fat raise earlier this week. For the first time in my professional life I'm making what someone of my education, competence, and abilities ought to be making.
It feels awesome.
To celebrate my recent raise I'm going to buy an ice cream maker and tubs to keep my ice cream in. I'm aiming to have at least four different kinds of homemade ice cream in the freezer at all times. Sorbets and frozen yogurts also count.
This is in addition to my goal of having popsicles in the freezer at all times.
Yes, life requires both popsicles and ice cream. Every day. Always.
I have lots of goals for 2015.
I've thrown most of them out. Not out as in never to be seen again. I'm trying to focus on what really needs to happen in my life. With all the crazy going on there's only room for a couple of them.
My priority list now consists of three items, the third of which is completely useless and means little when it comes to tasks to complete. (Priority 3: Live Well) Which means I actually have two items on my priority list for every day. I manage to get them both done maybe half the time.
Good thing my priority list isn't any longer.
I also have a priority list for Sundays. It also has two things on it.
Item 1 on the every day list and the Sunday list are the same. Item 2 is not.
I'm obsessed with my house. I love it. It makes me happy to come home to it.
Everytime I do something to my house to make it a little more mine I love it all the more.
I recently moved in one of my pianos. My little brown piano that I grew up with. The one where I spent thousands of hours of my childhood practicing. Not exaggerating. I walk down the stairs and see it sitting there, waiting for me. I smile.
I looked up my former piano teacher. She's still teaching. After I see the witch doctor (read: chiropractor that specializes in natural remedies that has cured other ailing pianists of their tendonitis) I hope to take from her again. Hannon here I come.
Now that I have a house of my own, Ma thinks it's time I looked into investment real estate.
Um, Ma. I just bought a house.
She is also excited by the idea of pallet furniture. An exchange of the other day.
Ma: [excited face] Guess what!?
Me: You want to buy me a cookie.
Ma: Yes, I do. Also, there are entire websites dedicated to using old pallets to make things. Like tables and boxes. [face that says she's just given me the world]
Me: Oh, yeah. They do some cool things with those old pallets.
Ma: Uh huh. I was thinking maybe you could use old pallets to make stuff. For your house! Isn't that a fun idea? [really, really, really excited face]
Me: Well, yeah, that does sound fun. Unfortunately, surplus pallets has never been one of my problems.
Ma: But the websites! There are so many project ideas! I can show them to you.
Me: Sounds fun. I still don't have any pallets.
That really did happen in my life. The Ma is still excited.
I've been dreaming up shelves to build that can house the music for my piano. I've committed in my mind to what I'd like to do. I can't wait to put it together.
The parents house their music in two filing cabinets. Two, tall, ugly, metal filing cabinets that I'm still too short to use well. Even on my tippy toes I have a hard time seeing what is in the highest drawer.
I've started eating two Tums every day to try and counteract the effect of the carbonic acid I've begun imbibing on a daily basis. Pretty sure my bones feel stronger. Lots stronger.
I have a chaise in my bedroom. A real, live chaise. It's awesome.
I have more socks than three of you put together. I easily have five dozen and wouldn't be surprised if I had an even hundred.
I have fewer socks now than I have ever had in my lifetime ever.
The only socks I have ever purchased for myself are my running socks.
The Ma likes to buy socks.
The Little Sister and I go shopping together once a week. We double cart it, each with a babe. Thank goodness she thinks she's done. I can't push two carts with a babe each. I'm not that talented.
When we give the little one a cookie he smashes it into his mouth and holds the crumbs in his two fists. He sucks on these crumbs through the whole shopping trip. He likes his cookies.
The older one thinks he ought to be able to walk on his own. He knows what his favorite things look like and will put packages of cookies, jars of applesauce, and cans of fruit in the cart while you're not looking. He's not two yet.
The two words he says most often are Tate (his little brother) and coke. He knows what life is all about.
He knows who Nana, Papa, Momma, and Daddy are. He has no name for me but instead greets me with a scream.
When he finds he needs a name for me, either Nana or Momma will do.
If you tell him my name is Meggy, he laughs at you.
I have two roommates. I love when they are both out late. When they are home, we chat in the evening. When they are out, I climb into bed between 8:00 and 8:30. I am an old lady.
I wrote up a summer bucket list maybe a month and a half ago. It's gonna be one, big, fat fail this year.
My summer has been fabulous so far and it's only going to get better.
