I did it again. Almost exactly one year ago, I wrote about the silliness of starting and committing to a blog in the midst of holiday season. Insanity, I said, would be doing it again next year. http://mauramusing.blogspot.com/2011/01/insanity-is.html
Oops.
But it made me wonder whether something about the winter solstice (or doldrums, for me) precipitates writing. It's not the approaching New Year as I intend to neither reflect nor resolve. My life still pivots with the school calendar, so January is a continuation not a true beginning. My musing knows no season. My devices facilitate mobile posting - from beaches or tennis courts.
Which leaves . . . coincidence? Six months from my last post took me to late December. Six months from that June piece hubby finally noticed the new dining room chandelier that inspired the post. Six months . . . put me in the holiday season. Insane, I know.
What crazy things do you take on?
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Cheap Thrill
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Another Injeanious Idea, Not
Pajama jeans for men. You know, those pajamas that look like jeans for the super-lazy-can't-be-bothered-to-button-my-pants crowd (as distinguished from the trendy jeggings bunch). A version is now available for men. Oy.
It took me years to get hubby out of the ubiquitous "dad jeans" and into "designer denim." He was attached to his cheap, baggy, faded Old Navy/Levis/Gap/Target/insert-name-here jeans. Convincing him to part with more than $100+ for dark straight jeans that look great with a blazer, was an uphill battle. And I won. As long as they weren't too low, too tight, too straight, too distressed, button fly (as opposed to button with zipper) and really too expensive. It was difficult but I found a pair or two. He looked good. Other wives noticed my success with envy.
With my kids, I've insisted that "pants must cover boxers and not hang below" and "pants cannot look like leggings." I guess I must add another for hubby: pants must have button/snap/zipper. Or they're not pants.
http://www.glamour.com/fashion/blogs/slaves-to-fashion/2011/12/alert-your-dude-or-um-dont-paj.html
It took me years to get hubby out of the ubiquitous "dad jeans" and into "designer denim." He was attached to his cheap, baggy, faded Old Navy/Levis/Gap/Target/insert-name-here jeans. Convincing him to part with more than $100+ for dark straight jeans that look great with a blazer, was an uphill battle. And I won. As long as they weren't too low, too tight, too straight, too distressed, button fly (as opposed to button with zipper) and really too expensive. It was difficult but I found a pair or two. He looked good. Other wives noticed my success with envy.
With my kids, I've insisted that "pants must cover boxers and not hang below" and "pants cannot look like leggings." I guess I must add another for hubby: pants must have button/snap/zipper. Or they're not pants.
http://www.glamour.com/fashion/blogs/slaves-to-fashion/2011/12/alert-your-dude-or-um-dont-paj.html
Pro-propofol
Yesterday I had that certain middle-aged procedure with the yucky prep which shall go unnamed, and I was put out with propofol. Conrad Murray was not on the premises. I asked. Twice. The pre-op nurse laughed and said he wasn't there. The anesthesiologist took it more seriously; Murray wasn't qualified to administer propofol. Fortunately, he was.
The nerves hit me as I was wheeled into the "procedure room.". It looked like a small hospital operating room. The anesthiologist waited for my doctor to finish an urgent call before loading my iv. I was watching some monitor as I felt a little chill in my vein. And then, I didn't.
Some time later - could have been two minutes or two years - I gently awakened in another room. No nausea. No grogginess. No disorientation. Peaceful.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Derailed By A Lost Train
Forgive me readers, for I have sinned. It's been six months since my last post. It was not for lack of desire. Nor was I devoid of thoughts. Certainly, like most, I've been busy. Life interfered with my best intentions. But something else happened: my lost train.
On June 15, as I often do, I wrote myself a note regarding a future post: "Not intended to be the maudlin musings of a middle-aged mom". Nice alliteration. Perhaps even
insightful. But, we'll never know. When I returned to write, the thought was gone. My own words no longer held any meaning. Frustrated that my great idea was gone, my blog went off the rails. It was hard to climb back aboard.
But, I miss the writing. And it strikes me now that my lost train could indeed be maudlin musings of middle age: the ideas that come and go may be stand-ins for the dreams and ideals that once were. Who I want to be is anchored by who I already am. Maybe my thought was flawed from the outset. Matter-of-fact replaces maudlin. Acceptance is closer. Is it possible I've grown up? Or maybe I just forgot. Either way, I'm back. I hope.
On June 15, as I often do, I wrote myself a note regarding a future post: "Not intended to be the maudlin musings of a middle-aged mom". Nice alliteration. Perhaps even
insightful. But, we'll never know. When I returned to write, the thought was gone. My own words no longer held any meaning. Frustrated that my great idea was gone, my blog went off the rails. It was hard to climb back aboard.
But, I miss the writing. And it strikes me now that my lost train could indeed be maudlin musings of middle age: the ideas that come and go may be stand-ins for the dreams and ideals that once were. Who I want to be is anchored by who I already am. Maybe my thought was flawed from the outset. Matter-of-fact replaces maudlin. Acceptance is closer. Is it possible I've grown up? Or maybe I just forgot. Either way, I'm back. I hope.
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