randomness « One Thing

Here’s the thing…

Everything is fine. Everyone is well. Baby is growing. All manner of everything is good. I’m sorry to be so silent!

Life has been insanely busy lately. Our summer veered off in a completely different direction than we originally had planned (hey, when God says this, not this, then all manner of things get interesting!), and my mental circuitry appears to have blown more than a few fuses.

I have no idea when posting might resume some semblance of regularity. The diet of fibrous thoughtfulness that encouraged such output seems to have been replaced with a backlog of starchy to-do lists. I’m clogged. But I am also hopeful that someday…somehow…a prescriptive enema of creative juices will oil the rusty gears and there will be an explosion of violent cleansing which will lead to healthy, routine musing once again.

Apparently my metaphor gland is still functioning just fine.

Seeing as how I just sat here staring at the computer screen for a full 10 minutes, wondering what to say next, I’m thinking I’ll just step slowly away from the keyboard before all manner of atrocities occur and say have a lovely summer, my friends….

Fun and Games. Or at Least Games.

Have you ever played “Would You Rather?” It’s a game featuring a series of choices between two equal-yet-different-and-usually-abyssmal scenarios. I thought it might be fun to play my own version of this game right here on the One Thing blog.

What sparked this idea? I’ll give you a hint with the first question.

1. Would you rather: have a three-day migraine, or 50 chigger bites in your bikini area?

I ask, because I have experienced both scenarios in the past week. Actually, I’m still in the midst of the latter one. Every summer I somehow manage to stand in a patch of the most voracious chiggers known to man. Even though I was surrounded by half a dozen other people, no one else was snacked upon with the same intensity. What can I say? I’m tasty.

I would prefer to have the adjective applied to me in a less literal way, but I’ll take what I can get at my age.

So because my mind is increasingly random, I came up with a few more scenarios to entertain myself and, frankly, to keep the agony of itching from driving me completely insane. Here we go…

2. Would you rather: have you left arm torn off by a shark, or your right foot torn off by a bear?

3. Would you rather: clean up a poop explosion, or a vomit volcano?

4. Would you rather: watch a professional boxing match, or a professional wrestling match?

5. Would you rather: Read the Health Care Reform Package, or watch the Twilight series?

haha!!! Okay, so that was mean. But I’m not entirely sure which one would be worse. Sorry.

6. Would you rather: eat a cow’s eyeball, or a sheep’s brain? Raw.

7. Would you rather: be captured by cannibals, or trapped in an elevator with Robert Downey Jr.?

Just seeing if you’re paying attention.

8. ….

sorry. Can’t concentrate now. Meditating on number 7….

8. Ahem! Sorry! Would you rather: Poke your eye with your mascara wand, or jam your toothrush into your gums?

It occurs to me that number 7 might very well be a legitimate question…for Robert Downey Jr, at least…although the two scenarios might be too similar for him to choose between…

Hawhaw! I’m cracking myself up. Almost forgot about the chigger bites.

Almost.

9. Would you rather: Have to listen to someone talk about themselves for 36 straight hours, or have to talk about yourself for 36 straight hours?

10. Would you rather: Answer all these questions, or come up with 10 of your own?

Well? Well? Wouldya? Couldya? If you come up with 10 of your own, be sure to link it up in the comments! I NEED the distraction!!!

Ah, Humble Pie, How Bittersweet You Are!

Pioneer Woman’s latest photography contest “Coming Home” is an absolute…I don’t even know if I can find the words…heart-render. Heart-breaker. Heart-warmer. Heart-over-flower. I’m just sitting here in tears and I have to say that this is why, even though she may sometimes annoy me, I keep coming back for more!

All The Random That's Fit To Print

I planted some red geraniums in a pot on my porch and tucked some of these daisies in around them. It was so cheerful and bright that it just made me smile to look at it. Then I noticed that the daisies were slowly looking more and more pathetic. Sort of like someone had sat upon them. Then I noticed that one clump was just…gone. And then they just continued to deteriorate.

At first I just thought they were fussy little flowers. I mean, I’ve had plenty of those sorts of flowers, the type that woo you with their siren song at the nursery and then die in approximately 0.4 seconds of getting them home because they didn’t like the new soil you put them in, or the amount of sun, or the amount of water, or the way you were looking at them. But then one morning I saw this.

P1010027 (3)

P1010028 (3)

You can’t actually see the white daisies behind the geranium, but trust me, that’s what she’s chowing down on. Who knew daisies topped the list of favorites on the squirrel buffet? Mystery solved.

I could have been angry that the little buggar had gone and eaten my five or six dollars worth of horticultural sweetness, but seriously. Who could be mad at that face? She’s adorable, and so obviously enjoying herself that I am happy to share.

But I’m planting more geraniums as soon as she’s done.

In other news, a friend pointed out this article to be read in light of the articles sited in my previous post. It’s interesting, and proves that people sure have devoted a lot of time to determining who is happy and who is not. Meanwhile, we all just get on with our lives and do the best we can.

And speaking of happiness, I saw Ironman 2 the other day. I found it highly satisfactory. Actually, I’ve seen it twice now. First I took my best friend to it, and then I took my mother. Anyone else still need to see it? I’ll make the sacrifice and keep you company. No, no…I insist.

Rather than review it myself, here’s a link to a review that pretty much echoes my own sentiments. Isn’t it handy when that happens? Here’s the only part to which I take exception:

“A very small quibble is that there is A LOT of building going on. Tons of hammering, drilling, and sparking. I felt like I was in a FORD truck commercial or the end of an A-Team episode on steroids. So maybe next time, less show and more tell.”

If he’s talking about the Mickey Rourke parts, then okay. But the part where RDJ whips out various sledgehammers, jackhammers, and wrenches and destroys his house in order to create a new element? I have no complaints. And less show and more tell? I don’t even understand what that means.

muscles Just TELL us about the muscles! It would be just as good! Wait. No it wouldn’t.

But speaking of show and tell (all hail the Queen of the Seque), I just want to point out that there are many new things in my Etsy shop these days. And by “new things” I mean “jewelry”. After protesting and whining and kicking and screaming and claiming that I never, ever wanted to learn to make such things, my BFF somehow taught me how anyway. And now I can’t stop. ALL monies go towards helping Kate and Charley go get their girls in the Ukraine this summer. Most of the earrings run a measly $5. Don’t you need a new pair of earrings? Yes, yes, you do!

Things my mother always said

“Only boring people get bored.”

That’s what she used to tell me. Whining to her in the middle of summer or during school breaks for the holidays like the spoiled rotten brat that I was, I would slink off to my room after she said it, pouting that my own mother called me boring. Assembling my ten million stuffed animals, I would call the meeting to order and inquire as to what grand adventure we should have together.

They would stare at me, glassy-eyed, silent…unhelpful. I knew they participated in all sorts of hair-raising schemes behind my back, but were they going to confess to their devoted, doting person? Not a chance. Screw them. I retreated to my closet to check if it had transformed into a portal to Narnia instead. Nope. Still just a wall of sheetrock.

My mother would also offer to let me fold laundry, or dust, or put away dishes, if I complained too frequently, or too long. What I really wanted was a flying unicorn. Or a rainbow I could climb to visit the cloud men of Roald Dahl’s imagination. I WANTED AN ADVENTURE, BY GOLLY.

When my own children get bored, I say “Revel in it! Enjoy it! Do you know how many people in the world would LOVE to know how it feels to be bored? It’s a luxury!! You could be working in a sweatshop or a coal mine! You could be digging potatoes until your fingernails fall off, you could be…(etc)”

I’m much more long-winded than my mother.

I am also the world’s biggest hypocrite. Because,

Right now?

I’M SO BORED.

SO. BORED.

SOOOOOOOO BOOOOOOOOORRRRRREEEEEDDDDDDDDDDDD!!

The most exciting thing that happened to me today was that my baby boy pooped Stonehenge. It is, at this moment, sitting in the bottom of the toilet bowl, slowly eroding since it refuses to flush. I should start a betting pool amongst my children to see who estimates its time-to-flushability to the closest minute.

The sameness of my days is killing me. Am I alone? Or am I just the only one brave enough to say it? I mean, come on, it’s an unwritten rule that Christians (especially) are not supposed to complain of boredom. We are supposed to savor every moment in an attitude of thankfulness for our every breath. I know this. I’m not stupid. It’s pretty much sinful to pout over the lack of portals to other dimensions where every episode moment is a new thrill.

And so I’ll make my own excitement. I will rise above the boredom that is trying to claim me. I AM NOT A BORING PERSON, BY JINGO! I AM A CLEVER AND CREATIVE SOUL!

I will go and see if I can flush the toilet yet.

And maybe burn something down.