clapping.

I believe that everyone should have one time in their life when they receive applause for their work. Better yet, we should all have a fan club that gives us kudos for organizing, or typing, writing, computing, disciplining, examining, road work, changing diapers, and every other form of work we are doing.

Saturday was my day. But I had actual applause. Matinee performance and with each short jaunt across the stage, someone clapped, or yelped, or laughed....just a bit louder than normal. And applause for walking across the stage with a flashlight? Never happened to me before. But it did on Saturday. And everyone in the cast assumed I had some friends in the audience, but the only ones I knew of were my visiting teachers - who are older, and might clap, but definitely would not yelp or applaud a flashlight cross.

So I was puzzled. But enjoyed it. And felt crazed, elated, and a bit hyper. Okay. So maybe it was the diet coke. And maybe I was imagining the support. But even imaginary friends giving imaginary applause can make for a whole lot of imaginary fun.

And what a job. And why should entertainers be the only ones to feel like that? That is so unfair. So I would like to suggest equal opportunity applause. And if anyone needs some, let me know where and when - and I'll show.

photo via Multiple fragments of tissue

in a box.

I need boxes. Free boxes. And I'm working the Craig list circuit, but so far have fallen upon a no response and a second place miss.

And knowing that a realtor is coming.... today, and the house is a mess. Okay, it's tidy, but not truly clean...freaks me out. And I have no time to clean. The refrigerator, floors, closets, my room, MY ROOM, garage....it all.

And I need to stuff boxes with all the things we don't use and don't need and get them out so at least it feels more clean.

So the realtor will come. the house won't shine. and I'll keep working on boxes.

Photo via Steve Keys

shaking it up a few more times.

I've been shaken. And am trying to leave you in a better state.

A few days of continuous screaming, hitting, hanging on, and pushing = a delicate soul on the precipice of being the final petal dangling until torn on the loves me not.

So onto happier thoughts: I still have 6 more moments of villainous revelry and plenty of angry inspiration.

You haven't seen this yet? You should. Tickets are going fast. I'll be there M, W, F, and the next 2 Saturday matinees.

Out of state? Don't have the money? Hate theater? Here's a sample of the crazy.

Thanks to Julia and Nina for the pics!

popping.

I'm through. through with feeling like I'm doing things right. IT comes in phases. But last week, as I asked a 14 year old to not open a bag of popcorn until outside (because we just vacuumed and cleaned up a mess 'o' corn), I assumed that her response, YES, meant that she understood.

Ten minutes later, when said bag went tumbling to the carpet, popcorn was everywhere. Reflexes kicked in and I began simultaneously cleaning and lecturing.

My Mouth: What are you doing? Do you remember promising not to open this?

Thoughts: This sounds an awful lot like my lectures to Millie.

Mouth: I've had it! I'm not your school teacher.

Thoughts: She doesn't hear me. I'm talking. But no one can hear.

Mouth: This isn't school. I'm not here to discipline.

Thoughts: Blah, blah, blah.

And poor girl had to ride home in my car. And didn't say a word to me. And I'm mean. And I'm old. And everything that I say is pretty lame.

Including this.

writing about road kill...again.

Driving to gymnastics setup at 10 PM-ish, I saw something crossing the street. I slowed down...and saw a cat. Right in the middle of the road. And then something in front of it moved. And the cat darted toward it. And I stopped the car completely. It was a mouse.

The cat contemplated....follow the mouse and die? Or stop. While it thought, I slowly moved around Tom and Jerry.

This is the first time that I have ever actually seen a cat chasing a mouse.

In my headlights.

I get a bit of joy out of that.

eating brownies at 11:30 pm.

Lowsy brownies. and yet I'm eating them.

And I wonder: if I admit it now, while they are 3 and 1, that I'm an awful specimen of a mother - will it make it easier on them in the long run?

flying.

six years ago I had a miscarriage.

first pregnancy. first loss. and it threw me into depression. (Hormones Rock!)

but a happy memory lingers from this. sister Kirstin sent us 2 kites. cool kites. happy kites.

everyone should receive a kite surprise when sad.

our dragon and fish have been happy memories preserved in their packaging, never seeing the sky. until now.

Kirstin, this flight is for you.