1) I currently have a bruise on my forehead. It's mighty sexy. I was sitting on the floor, working with a kiddo today, and he got excited and spit/sneezed/threw blocks, seemingly all at the same time. I ducked my head and turned away to avoid getting spit/snot/blocks in the face, and plowed my forehead into the edge of the kid-sized table next to me. For what it's worth, I missed the spit, the snot, AND the blocks. I'm thinking that's still a win.
2) I found a stinkbug in my underwear drawer, and now all of the contents of said drawer smell like stinkbug. Looks like I'm re-washing them tomorrow morning. If I smell weird next time you see me, just don't ask.
3) Learning who to trust and who not to trust, and who to trust with what information, and how to trust people, and how not to trust people, is the hardest lesson for me to learn. I mess it up all the time and figure I must completely suck at it. I don't think I'm ever going to learn, and wonder if it might just be better to live with the fact that I'm not good at this at all and learn to better deal with the consequences. That hardly seems logical, but I'm not sure what else to do.
4) I love going outside when it's windy before and/or after a rain. I love the way it smells and the way the world reeks of intrigue.
5) My dog is amazing. Seriously. I don't know where I would be without him.
6) No offense to anybody following the NaNoBloPo month prompts through BlogHer, but seriously? The prompt for yesterday was this: Describe an outfit that makes you feel good. (It can be from any period of your life.) Double points if you post a picture of yourself in the outfit.
Who wants to read about an outfit that makes me feel good? I'd MUCH rather tell you about the outfit that I hated. Doesn't that make a better story?
Awww...you really want to hear about the outfit that I hated? Okay. The outfit I most hated was an outfit my grandmother gave me when I was around 9. My sister had a matching outfit, and she was 7, and my youngest sister had a matching outfit, and she was 2. She ALSO bought my mother a matching turtleneck. The outfits were mustard colored turtlenecks with fuzzy, striped jeans that were muted shades of purple, blue, deep red, and green. They were, in a word, hideous.
The issue was that my grandmother was of the mindset that you "buy big" such that clothes will fit for a nice long time. The onesie for my youngest sister could have fit a baby sumo wrestler but, fortunately, was too small for anyone else to fit into. My middle sister's outfit was a little big on me, my outfit practically fit my mother, and my mom's turtleneck could have fit all 3 of us girls inside.
My mom was of the mindset that you wear and enjoy what people give you. So we kept those clothes...and we kept them...and we kept them...and I wore the shirt and the stupid fuzzy jeans for so many years, there was no longer any fuzz left in the crotch or the knees by the time I outgrew them. As far as the turtlenecks go, I drew the line when I was packing for college and flat out refused the mustard turtlenecks (yes, plural...the one given to my mom and the one that was supposed to fit 9 year old me were both in my drawer when I was 17).
Funny story: As I was typing the above paragraph, I remembered that I had cut a piece out and glued it into a journal at some point. I took a break from writing and went and searched through old journals. I found it, with this passage next to it...I swear to god, 12 years later, I wrote almost exactly the same thing I had written when I was 16. By the time the pants bit the dust, they were such a legacy that I cut out a square from them and glued it in my journal. I had forgotten that my mom cut out the back pocket and gave it to my sister as a bed for the very small stuffed animal bear that was her favorite at the time. Here is photographic evidence of the awfulness that was those pants. Imagine this with a mustard turtleneck (and my sweet, sexy, HUGE glasses, and, for a while, bangs. Did I ever mention that I was not popular?) :
Oh. Wow.
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