The post that doesn’t end.

This is the post that doesn’t end;
yes, it goes on and on my friend.
Once I started writing it, I knew not where I’d go,
and I’ll continue writing it hoping to find a flow.
This is the post that doesn’t end…

How many story ideas do you have that end up lost while you are stuck in a traffic jam, wiped dry from a thirsty towel after your shower, or garbled by the disposal while you are cleaning up the dirty dishes?

My ideas are fleeting, becoming fewer and farther in between. My greatest hope is to capture at least a snippet of the idea, holding it safe until time permits me to write a clear post with a clear beginning and a clear ending. This is not that post.

This is the post that doesn’t end;
yes, it goes on and on my friend.
Once I started writing it, I knew not where I’d go,
and I’ll continue writing it hoping to find a flow.
This is the post that doesn’t end…

During a serious discussion with a friend, we became sad. In an effort to change the subject and lighten the mood, I shared a story with her.

Before I shared the story, I explained to my cat-loving friend that I like cats, too. I assured her I would not share this story with just anyone. Because she knew me, I felt it would be OK.

“Friend,” I said. “At my Dad’s funeral, my sister told me a great way to distract myself from the sadness was to think of dead cats.”

My friend gasped in shock. I looked at her and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not a hater; some of my best friends are cats.” With that statement, my friend guffawed.

How many times do we talk about various groups, types, etc. with a hint of judgment, while stumbling over our words by saying, “It’s OK. I’m not being ugly; some of my best friends are [insert group here].” For instance, I know one or two bloggers that babble. But it’s OK. I’m not being ugly. Some of my best friends are babblers. One might even call me a babbler, because …

This is the post that doesn’t end;
yes, it goes on and on my friend.
Once I started writing it, I knew not where I’d go,
and I’ll continue writing it hoping to find a flow.
This is the post that doesn’t end…

Ice cream is my thing. I knew I loved it, but I didn’t realize giving it up for 40 days would drive me crazy. You see, I gave it up for Lent. I have no regrets for giving it up, and I suspect I’ll give up again next year. After all, the purpose of Lent is to remind Christians of the sacrifice Jesus made. (My so-called sacrifice seems trivial by comparison, eh?)

During the Lenten season, I bought my boys fresh made milkshakes, I scooped bowls of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream for them, and I sat at the dinner table to celebrate my husband’s birthday, while everyone, but me, enjoyed an ice cream pie. Though I was tempted by the frozen dairy delight many times, not one bit of ice creamy goodness touched my lips. Come Easter Sunday that will change.

Stay away from the ice cream, people. That pint and several more after that pint are mine. As soon as the 40 days have come to pass or this post comes to an end, and well …

This is the post that doesn’t end;
yes, it goes on and on my friend.
Once I started writing it, I knew not where I’d go,
and I’ll continue writing it hoping to find a flow.
This is the post that doesn’t end…

We are in the midst of Spring Break, which means the boys are home from school for the week, which means the routine is on hiatus, which means the working from home job is challenged, which means writing is challenged, which means reading is challenged, which means quiet time is challenged, which means sleep is challenged, which means crankiness abounds.

We are in the midst of Spring Break, which means the boys are home from school for the week, which means outdoor play increases, which means sitting outside with friends is more frequent, which means laughter fills the air, which means smiles shine like the sun, which means the appetites increase, which means cookouts take place, which means the tent is setup for camping outside, which means adventures abound.

Amidst the crazed crankiness is pure happiness, provided you stop and let yourself feel it. Too bad for me, I cannot stop to feel the happiness. Maybe when I finish this post, I’ll let myself feel it. But again, too bad for me …

This is the post that doesn’t end;
yes, it goes on and on my friend.
Once I started writing it, I knew not where I’d go,
and I’ll continue writing it hoping to find a flow.
This is the post that doesn’t end…

I introduced Rob to the game 20 Questions during our first road trip together. Quickly, I realized engineers are not the target audience for such a game. Rob has a hard time with ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions, because he will over-think the question to the point that neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no’ are accurate answers.

Much to my chagrin, Joe and Charlie follow in their Dad’s 20 Question footsteps. While trying to play the game with my boys, Charlie asked if Joe’s mystery object moved, and Joe answered “No.” When the item was revealed, Charlie chimed in quickly, “Joe, if you put it on wheels, it will move. You lied. That’s cheating.”

I remember the days when the boys were younger. Here are a few conversations of their younger years:

Charlie: “Mommy, I can’t tell you what I caught until I put it in the container.” He says as he walks with his hand cupped and closed.
Me: “There’s a container on the table.”
Charlie, walks towards me looking inside his container: “Hey! My rolly-polly is still in here. I see him moving.”
Me: “Charlie, your inch worm is crawling out of your hand.”
Charlie: “Wow. He’s fast. Do rolly-pollies eat inch worms?”

::

Joe: “Mommy. Charlie and I are making compost for the worms we found. Can we have a banana? Oh, and I am hungry, too; so, can we have a banana?”

::

Conversation in the car, after picking up a pizza at Dominos:
Me: “Mmmmm…. doesn’t that pizza smell good?”
Joe: “Yes, it does.”
Charlie: “I can’t smell it, because I have too many boogers in my nose.”

::

While waiting to use the computer, Charlie asks, “Mommy?! How much longer? I have too many patience.”

::

Ah patience… Readers, please be patient with me, as I try to end the post that – well, you know.

This is the post that doesn’t end;
yes, it goes on and on my friend.
Once I started writing it, I knew not where I’d go,
and I’ll continue writing it hoping to find a flow.
This is the post that doesn’t end…