Food For Thought

So apparently it's a really bad idea to blurt things out when you're half awake, even if you're only typing.  Don't type and publish on an empty brain. 

Actually, to be completely honest it's not empty.  It's just full of crap that I either don't know how to say or a bunch of stuff that I promised that I wouldn't.

I feel like setting fires.  Not literally.  Well, for the most part anyway.  I'm sure that if I were to go into details you would appreciate the sentiment.  I understand honesty.  I understand keeping secrets that are important.  I understand the need for privacy in all types of relationships.  My question is:  at what point do semi-answers become better than having no answers at all?  Am I going to be stuck settling for that?  I'm not one to sit back and let things happen.  I guess only time will tell.  Let it go, and all that jazz.

Faith is taking the first step even when you can't see the whole staircase.

All I can is say that when you find youself thinking in Disney song lyrics, things might be looking up, but it ain't pretty. 

"New and a bit alarming
Who'd have ever thought that this could be?
True that he's no Prince Charming
But there's something in him that I simply didn't see....
There's something there that wasn't there before"

Don't lie.  You sang it too.

I am pretty sure that it doesn't help that the instrumental elevator music being piped into the lobby at work actually plays disney songs.  And I know every word. 

Every.  Damn.  One.

In other news:  dad let me borrow his mower, as mine I'm afraid has completely crapped the bed.  Funny enough this thing is older than I am and works better than mine that was maybe 5 years old.  The yard was starting to look like I was losing a game of Jumanji.  The side of your foot is the single worst place on your body to get bitten by a mosquito, by the way.

Had an interesting realization on my walk last night.  It felt great at the time.  Did I remember what it was when I woke up?  Of course not.  Squirrel brain, it's a curse. 

I have a couple of procedures scheduled this week.  Routine, yes.  Am I any less terrified?  Of course not.  It doesn't help that 5 years ago I went in for a "routine procedure" and woke up with no feeling from my knee to my shoulder on half of my body that took over a year to recover from.  I don't have a worst case scenario in mind, things just seem to work out that way when I get opened up.  It's times like this that you realize just exactly how alone in the world you really are.  It is not a good feeling.

This realization also led me to take down my online dating profiles.  I just need time to figure shit out.  I won't get into the reasoning behind it.  Other than the fact that the internet is full of cheap hookup seeking dirt bags and that's not who I am.  And it didn't feel like it was coinciding with what I really want out of my life and who I want to be a part of it.  I did it because I wanted to and it feels like I made the right decision. 

I changed the alarm notification on my phone to the Andy Griffith theme song.  I have always loved it and it puts a smile on my face.  I thought that it would be a nice way to start my day, that listening to something skippy would help waking up a more pleasant experience.  I am not the kind of person who can wake up listening to a bio hazard siren, pop out of bed like I'm in a toaster and then not spend the day wanting to stab everyone in the eyeball.  The unfortunate side effect is that it's been stuck in my head any time that I haven't been listening to other music.  I'm going back to Achmed The Dead Terrorist. 

"Hellooo.  Wake up or I keell you!"

Straight and to the point.  I like that in a man.

I have to finish getting the kids ready for school tonight.  I'm so glad that they're in the same school now.  Navigating the drop off area for 2 different schools on the same road was what I imagine the 3rd and 4th circles of Hell are like.  I can appreciate the architectural sentiment, but it clearly wasn't designed by someone who experiences half awake moms trying to commute to work; uncaffeinated and messy haired who want to run over the overly protective parents who won't get the H.E. Double Hockey Sticks out of the way because they have to make sure their spawn's hair is perfect.  It's a great day if I can get mine to wear pants. 

On Facebook, there is an app called "On this day", where you can see your posts from previous years.  I had completely forgotten about the time 5 years ago when the kids and I were at the beach.  The girl child, 9 years old and still hadn't hit her anti-everything girly phase, kissed a frog (after having just seen The Princess and The Frog) and in her dismay that he didn't turn into a boy exclaimed "Who needs a Prince Charming anyways?  I just sacrificed my lips for nothing!"

Prince Charming my ass.  At this point I'd settle for a doofus in a tin foil hat.