I keep remembering (or mostly remembering) things that Neil Gaiman said that I hadn't yet written down ... and, well, he was so amazing that I do want to share more!
(Truly, if I'd have thought that a cell-phone video would have turned out at all well, I'd have been sorely tempted. ... But then I couldn't clap, could I??)
But, due to wonderful sales, The Ocean at the End of the Lane bumped Dan Brown's Inferno from the New York Times' Best Sellers #1 spot.
And what did Mr. Gaiman have to say about that?
"Curse you and your intricately-crafted Renaissance [fantasy/fiction/ ... Neither Michael nor I can remember the EXACT word. But it was darling]."
And he knew, around the age of ten, that he wanted to be a writer. He knew that if he did not at least try writing, he would die. And if he tried and failed? That'd be okay. And he go into hotel management or something else.
Truly, I'm a little jealous of people who KNOW what they want to be.
I'm in my early 30s (when did THAT happen?!??) and I still don't really know what I'm doing.
I mean, I'm a mom. I'm a wife. I take care of the house. I cook. I read lots of books. I try not to be boring. I try to be kind and compassionate and understanding. I try to love everyone. I try to love myself. I try to live my religion ... Maybe that's what I am. I'm a TRY-er.
At least, when you're a try-er, it's not like you can really fail.
Just leave Yoda and his philosophy out of it. I don't want to hear it right now.
Besides that, Bruise had some sort of allergic reaction ... on his FACE (and earlobes and neck and a couple little spots on his arms). It appears that he got SOMETHING on his hands and touched his face. I only noticed it last Wednesday. Friday, when it wasn't getting better, I started giving him some Benadryl. It's looking lots better. (And the chlorine-water this morning seems to have helped, too).
It doesn't itch or cause him discomfort ... it just looks ... well ... odd.
At first, I thought it might be acne ... except for the fact that he's NOT nearly old enough to start puberty like THAT.
But he's doing fine ... my shaggy-haired little man.
Bucket ... even though there are times that she knows just which buttons to push ... she is really a VERY sweet and compassionate girl.
I'm, well ... I'm in a bit of a rough patch.
To say much more feels like a drama-queen thing.
But, let's just say that I've really questioned what kind of person I am.
(My mom assures me that I'm not a terrible friend. Michael assures me the same. Does anyone who doesn't have such a vested interest in me want to weigh in? If I'm a terrible person and an awful friend, I'd much rather prefer to know ... so that I can improve my quality of friendshipness-essence.)
And, well, since I broke down in tears again (and I don't like crying in front of my kids. It feels ... unprofessional. They have enough work figuring out who they are. I should be able to hold it together and not stress them out too much) ... and Bubbles had just woken up.
As I changed her diaper, Bucket told me, "Don't worry, Mom. We'll take care of her. You go take a rest."
She is her father's daughter. (Except when she's infuriating ... then that's ALL me. I can admit it.)
And I did take a rest ... and I felt a bit better.
Not ready to take over the world or anything ... but not quite so vulnerable to cry at the drop of a hat.
(At the same time, let's please don't take any chances ... Keep your hat-dropping to a minimum, if you don't mind.)
In other news, the kids started swim lessons today. And they had a great time. Even if I brought them there over a half-hour early. Whoops. (Better early than late, right?)
We got to sit and chat and watch the swim team practice and a class of older ladies exercise.
And Bucket and I talked about how it's not really important if one is "fat" or "skinny." But that being HEALTHY is most important. I hope that sticks.
And a gal from our ward, before the wards' boundaries were all reorganized, has her two sons in swim lessons at the same time (different classes), so it was very nice to get to chat with her. She's a friendly gal and is very fun to talk to. (Which makes me hope that I haven't lost all social skills ... I mean, I can write a great business letter ... maybe I just suck at being personable? But, no, another friend likes me plenty ... so ... well, maybe it's not that.) But I get to look forward to chatting with her for another eight days. So that's nice.
I don't really know what to make for dinner. I have a pot of rice nearly done.
Not that 2/3 of the children really care for rice. And what should I serve with it?
I'm sure that I'll figure out something.
(Oh well, I was going to have Michael swing by the store on his way home and grab some sausage ... He's obviously listening to the radio and isn't picking up the phone. Oh well.)
Well, I think that's about everything that I can think of to write ... I'm finding myself staring off into space. Not the best use of my time ... and, well, if I'm not that interesting to MYSELF, I feel awful for you reading this blog.
Good news, my mom'll be coming up. I've been missing her. She had put her back out ... and then was having dizzy spells. Neither of which lend themselves well to driving for a few hours to visit (enthusiastic) grandchildren.
So I'm glad to be able to see her. I've been missing her a lot.
I should clean up the house, though. It'd be a nice idea, right?
And I called and set up pesticide service. It's not doing well in our battle against the ants. Ugh. Hate those insects. Why can't they just stay outside?? Whatever. They'll be sorry. In a few weeks. Mwhahaaaa.