OK for the one person who asked me to update my blog, this is for you. And, a shout out to the other five followers of my blog who have been begging for more. That was a joke. Sorry my material is poor. Today I will charm you with a story about my life. Here goes.
Shortly after my mother remarried a minor league baseball coach she shipped me from Arizona to a small, gray-skied town in Washington where my Dad is a sheriff...More poor material. I can't stop myself. OK...making myself stop.
This is a post about nothing. A snippet of the last 24-hours. Ready or not comes the unstory:
I ran my car AC for the first time this season which drained my battery--to the dismay of five children who were wearing swimsuits, eating turkey sandwiches and ready for a day of slip and slide with their cousins. To add to their misfortune I had pulled the car so far into the garage a jump start was out the question. They played in the mud instead. I put off finding a solution to my problem, figuring things could wait. I have a friend with a battery charger that plugs into the wall. I would call her in the morning.
At 8:30 this morning I'm up working on a proposal that Alai and I have been collaborating on for weeks. Finally I have found enough focus to push through and commit our ideas to paper when Afui walks in and tells me my car tire is completely flat. How can it be? I find out quick enough when Little Alai runs in and blurts "Tui broke the tire." A translation of "broke the tire" is use a car phone charger to let all of the air out. Flat tire...no air. Since my AAA account expired in March of 2007 I couldn't call them for the quick fix, so ignored the problem again and returned to the computer to finish what I could control--the proposal. A few mud balls land just outside my window. Hooligans. Cute ones, but still hooligans. The hose is running. Shirtless boys are spraying each other on the trampoline. This is clearly against the rules, but I ignore it because I'm trying to hang on to my train of thought which only arrives at this station a few times a week. I keep typing, until another person I love starts hollering my name from the upstairs for socks, to let me know that another beloved resident of the house has stomach flu and to ask me to change the station to channel 2. Back down stairs I am staying focused, staying focused. Text beep--have a Primary Meeting in a few hours to plan our June activity. Meeting at my place--OK fine. But I'm focused and getting back to business. Tap, tap, tap on the keyboard like lightning on keys. I'm in the zone when I'm interrupted by an unfamiliar voice outside in the yard. A new neighborhood friend has snuck over to use the trampoline without telling his mother. I flash him a knowing look. He sticks his shoes back and suddenly remembers that he is not supposed to be here. Typing some more when over back shoulder I hear a request for breakfast. "Cereal" I reply. "Milk makes my stomach hurt" the voice answers back. "Use water, or just enough milk to make it soggy." I hear a whiny noise of protest, and 75- pound- stomp up the stairs. I don't worry about it. Which brings me to the point of the unstory: Oprah poured Kool-Aid on her cereal back in her poor days, so I figure we're still OK.
P.S. FYI--Finished the proposal, wiped down muddy kids, borrowed the battery charger, still holding out for a hero to show up with an air compressor or "Flat In a Can".
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