The kiddies are minutes away from touching down to begin their summer vacation. If all goes according to plan, I’ll be back at work on the 28th of this month. I’m still not 100% on my feet though. It’s bothersome, but I’m finally getting to really rest. Granted, the folks in my life have been total rock stars, and my kids really stepped up. Yet, there are still some mommy things that needed to be done, and it bothered me enough that I couldn’t take them to the movies and such.
Last night was my boy’s graduation, and I got only a little misty. The realization that he’s such a big boy made me sad. My friend looked at me and said, “Uh, he’s not moving out.” I’m such a punk when it comes to stuff with my boy. Middle school. The girl only has two years left in elementary school. This scares the crap out of me.
I’m guessing physical therapy will commence soon. I’ve taken off my cast a few times to shower and such, and my ankle looks ABSOLUTELY terrible. It’s all swollen and disgusting looking. And holy Christmas do I need an exfoliant six ways to Sunday! It’ll be a month before I look like myself again. Plus, as long as I’m on the blood thinners, NO RAZORS. I have to throw myself at the mercy of the funky gods of Nair. UGH!
So, what am I going to do with myself? Well, I’m learning French. No lie. I have Rosetta Stone, and I’m fully capable of saying “a boy is on a horse” in poorly pronounced French. I can also say “a boy and girl are in a boat.” That’s right. Bow before Zod.
It goes without saying that I will write. I’m going to try my hand, once more, at the Boston Review Short Story Contest. I plan to win. Note cards and such commence tomorrow. The due date, of course, is October 1. Of course, I have no idea what I will write about, but that’s what I do. I create. I think. Ah well.
You know what I would do for a Klondike bar? A LOT. I’m not sure what it is about those tasty treats, but they are perfection. Except when you get to that last 8th of the bar. The ice cream gets a little too soft for the kid.
I’m looking for Saturday afternoon spots where I can just relax and kick back. Maybe do some cute boy watching? Maybe meet a cute boy to share a meal with me? Who knows. I’ve been an awful good girl Santa, throw me a frickin bone here.