Monday, September 14, 2015

Magnificent, Magical Monday

That title up there is a blatant bid for some self-fulfilling prophecy-type action.  I'm sure there's a book out there somewhere- no doubt shelved in "Self Improvement"- that says that very thing, along the lines of "If you write it, it will become your truth.  Believe in your spirit's ability to guide you through the shoals of life, and embrace all the colors of you."

Holy crap, you guys.  Slap an unearned honorific somewhere in my name and I could have my very own cult.  'Cause girls just wanna be cult leaders- I'm pretty sure there was an 80's pop song to that effect.  Kool-aid, anyone?

I think the only way to keep this post from devolving into complete madness is to compose a list.  Because lists solve everything!

  • This morning before school, Atticus put on a pair of pants.  (Whew!  What a narrative hook, RIGHT?)  Actually, he put on four pairs of pants, because it's that time of year again:

He's been wearing shorts for months and I've been able to pretend he has a dresser-full of clothes that fit him.  Because surely he hasn't spent the last three months outgrowing all his clothing.  That would be preposterous and entirely without precedent!

Okay, so maybe he grew the tiniest bit over the summer, but not enough to outgrow clothes that fit him perfectly well in the spring!  There's no way he grew, let's see....

Two and a quarter inches in a year.  Although really, for Atticus, that's some pretty restrained growing.

  • Last week we were a bit early for Adelaide's piano lesson, so I did what any good mother does:  
Yes.  I pulled into the little cemetery we drive past every week.  I think it's a testament to my incredible self-restraint that I haven't taken the kids on a tour of this one before, because I love me a good graveyard, and this one is in a tiny, tiny town- not even a town, actually; it has no post office, no local government, just a smattering of houses, a sod farm, and a winery in the middle of rural Iowa.  Obviously a cemetery there is going to be fun.

And look!  Our curiosity was rewarded!

Adelaide and I spotted this structure in a back corner of the cemetery, and while she thought maybe it was an old tiny house (or Tiny House, I suppose- have you seen that show, or the documentary about those things?  Because she is obsessed with them, claiming that when she grows up she is going to have a midnight blue truck in order to haul her Tiny House around behind it.), I thought it was a supply shed for whomever maintains the lot.

But nay!  We were both wonderfully, beautifully wrong!

That is a smile that can only be wrested from Daughter upon the discovery of an old outhouse.  Is it sad that she and I were equally delighted to open the door and find the bench with its necessary hole?  I say, "No."  Derek, just... don't answer.

I was a little hesitant to pick it up, as it was labeled a thriller and I am a self-avowed pansy.  But a story about a woman who wakes up every day, no knowledge of any of the days leading up to it, having to re-learn that she's married, that she was in a terrible accident, that her short term memory erases itself each time she enters deep sleep- well, that sounds like a good one.

The book ended up reminding me a bit of Gone Girl, except I didn't hate every single person in it, which is a major plus for me.  It had the twisting plot and chilling aspects of GG, along with the driving need to figure out what the heck is going on here?  I enjoyed it very much, and for my fellow 'fraidy cats, it wasn't too terribly scary.

1 comment:

  1. Holy Growth Spurts, Batman!

    My mother used to play with her cousins in the local cemetery. They thought it was a great playground.


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