Monday, November 22, 2010
It is a well known fact that when The SIX plan a get-together, an event, a retreat ... anything fun really, that the world conspires against me. It's my punishment for being the most sane of us all.
I was bound and determined this weekend would be different -- I would be attending our impromptu retreat on Friday. And thus began the countdown.
Wednesday Night: Chinese take out. (Mistake! The skull and cross bones on the box should have been a dead give away ... pardon the pun.)
Thursday Night: Permanent residence taken up in our bathroom.
Friday: Much better, but now my husband (aka Retreat Babysitter) had taken up permanent residence in our bathroom.
Friday 4 p.m.: I went anyway. (Note: Left husband with homemade bread, homemade chicken noodle soup ... and my son. Note 2: I am highly motivated by guilt.)
Result: Most productive writing retreat EVER! Wrote 6 pages, and then 2.5 more when I got home.
Lesson learned: Making bread gets creative juices flowing, and I may have passed my curse off to my husband ... but better him than me. He isn't welcome at the "Girls Only retreats." :)
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
OK, so I'm pregnant, with a giant case of the Pregnant Brain (the one up there on the left is mine), aka I forget just about everything, including the fact that I have a blog, and that it has a login.
Here are some other lessons learned as a result of my pregnant brain:
- When eating Halloween candy, and the candy is in your right hand (wrapper in your left), it is the contents in your left hand that should go in the trash. Goodbye sweet Twix.
- When washing one's hair, rinse is critical.
- If you're going to the store specifically for one item, you should leave with said item and not $40 of "other stuff."
- A bra is an important part of a public wardrobe. But not as important as my Panda fanny pack!
- If there are two words that sound kind of similar, but with completely different meanings, chances are I will use the incorrect word, I've run the gambit on that one.
- I have an un-potty-trained child, which means I should probably take diapers with me when spending the evening at my mother's house. Pajamas would be good too. Or maybe just move to Africa, and then I wouldn't have to worry, right? And we could put him to work making bread!
I know there are myriads more, but (here comes the shocker) I can't remember. So that's my brain, how's yours?