ketchup.

I miss writing.  A lot.  So much so that I just typo'ed alot.

I could write about work.  But right now it is going that sort of way that if I'm not doing it, I don't want to be thinking about it.  As social service dollars fall away, families fall apart.  Taking away programs from grown ups who people don't necessarily like (crackheads and crazies and such) hurts so many children.  You know the crackheads and the crazies love to have a million babies.  Imagine what those babies are going through these days.
It's really sad what people do to other people.  What politicians do to children.  And then wonder why they grow up to be crackheads and crazies, just like their parents and grandparents and and and.

I could write about the weather.  I'm no good with temps under 75.  And temps are under 75.

I could write about my Upcoming! Vacation!.  But I think that puts my house at risk for breakins.
I'm going to (insert destination here) on (insert date here) and not coming back until (insert date here)!  I'm pretty excited, especially now that the trip is shaping up to be less (insert attraction here) and more (insert activity here). 
Or about my other Upcoming! Vacation! which will happen exactly (#) days after the first one.

I love having two things to look forward too.  Especially when work is work and weather is weather.

I could write about improv. We practice weekly, and have shows the first and last Saturday of each month, though that will probably be increasing as the months go by. There is a video camera installed in the theater now, so there should be some video sometime soon.


I could tell you how much I enjoy starting sentences and paragraphs with I, and how sometimes I edit things to take out the I's so I don't sound like a jerk.

I want to write about Jake and his school and his jokes and how fun he is lately, but I don't want to be a gushy momblogger.  But this kid?  Is hilarious.  And smart.  And a good buddy to have kicking around the house.  Remember how I was so worried about the pajama party?  Yeah, well, later that week on a non-pj party day, there was gross miscommunication between Dave and I on a morning I had to leave super early and Dave took Jake to school and Jake ended up going to school in his pajamas. 
His pajamas that he wore the night before.  His pajamas that weren't pajamas.  His pajamas that weren't pajamas but the clothes he wore the day before.  To school.
My boy was the boy who wore the same thing to school two days in a row.

Tonight to put off going to bed, Jake asked me deep questions.  That is such an awesome kid trick.  I don't know where they learn it, but they do.

Question 1: Mom, what is a soul?
Answer 1: um, erm, mumble jumble love, forever, essense of self, and so on and so forth.
Response 1: Mom, it's actually the bottom of your foot.  Your sole.  See?  Sole.  I was testing you.  Did you know your teeth are bones?

Question 2: Mom, can you tell me all about Black History?
Answer 1: um, erm, mumble jumble, slavery, freedom, oppression, inventions, essense of self, and so on and so forth.
Response 2:  Mom, is there a such thing as White History?  Because I'm a little worried that we come from nowhere and nothing and nobody and we are responsible for planting the seeds of the history of white people and that's a really big job.

Jake, Jake, Jacob.  Who will only be four years old for three more weeks.

He will probably lose a tooth when he's five.  Not that any are loose now, but I think that's when kids lose teeth.  I ate my first tooth I lost.  Swallowed it with my cinnamon toast.  I was worried the Tooth Fairy would have to reach up my butt to get it out.  My parents never said she wouldn't have to.
Also, my grandmother died the same day, and I thought I saw the Tooth Fairy that night, but I still wonder if it was my grandma.  Coming to say goodbye. 

I love a good ghost story.

I could update about the inner turmoil I'm having with finding a kindergarten after they scrambled the catchment areas on us since we moved here.  Switching us from one of the best public elementary schools to one of the worst.  We've already gotten one rejection letter from a Charter School.  One down.

I started watching Lost!  It's a show about a plane crash.  And an island.  And I like it a whole lot more since finding out that I'm not supposed to know what is going on.  Because I was lost.  That's not a pun.  I felt really stupid and wondered if I was so pre-occupied with life that I couldn't even understand television.  But then I learned it's not me, it's Lost.

I'm taking classes at work.  One on Teens.  One on Trauma.  Luckily it's on work time and work dollar, but there is lots of homework about brain function and emoneurophysiopsychobio stuff.  LOTS.  And after these are done, I start the second level of the Trauma class and the second level of an Understanding Anger class.  I took the first part a few years ago.  I learned that I was angry.  Which doesn't sound all that groundbreaking, but I was surprised. 

And that's about it.  Well, it's not, but that's about it for now, for here.  I think I'm going to schedule in some writing time. Get back into it.  Block out a lunchtime or something. 

Plus, it's one more reason to skip the gym.