Today I drove the kids to a friend’s house so they could spend the night there. It took us 3 hours to load the car with all the loot the kids wanted to bring along. These guys don’t pack lightly.
When we left my house, it was a stifling 98 degrees. Along the way to the friend’s house, which is a 35 minute drive, we went from hot and blindingly-sunny Africa, to the moody, windy steppes of Russia, and dropped 17 degrees.
Thirty-four minutes into the thirty-five minute drive, the rain started: great big splatters all over the windshield. Really? Only one minute to go and the rain couldn’t hold off until we arrived and unloaded the 200 pounds of freight in the back of the van? C’mon.
The rain knew. It knew.
It knew that I changed my grocery shopping day from Wednesday to Thursday this week, and it simply couldn’t leave me alone. Because not only did it rain, but it hailed. Look at the hail.
For The Blog, wordpress shows me how many people have read it each day and how they got here–from a Facebook share, from Google, etc. I can’t see who has read it, so I never know if it’s just the same five people reading it over and over all day long, bumping up my numbers, or not.
I can also see what google search terms people have used. I’ve noticed that people search for “men in knickers” an awful lot and end up on my blog. Today, I searched for “men in knickers” to see what The Blog looks like in google.
If you search for “men in knickers” you’ll find my blog on the 4th google page. It was a post I did a while ago that mentioned knickers, men, and chocolate.
Belgian chocolate to be exact.
Belgian chocolate that I hid from the kids in February and forgot about until today. And since the kids are at a friend’s house tonight, I’m going to take that Belgian chocolate from its clever hiding place and sit around eating Belgian chocolates right out in the open. And I think I’ll eat it noisily. And say, “MmmmmMMMm!” a lot. And no one try to get any from me. Darling Husband won’t be interested because he has a disgusting 82% cacao beans dark chocolate piece of chocolate to gnaw on. I think he’s going to eat it with some brussels sprouts. They taste about the same. Maybe if he douses the dark chocolate with some butter it’ll be edible.
And imagine the disappointment of all those people wanting to find pictures and articles about men in their knickers. Perhaps people who do sewing projects are trying to find patterns for knickers so they can sew the knickers and send them to the soldiers in Afghanistan. Or maybe a mother is trying to find the latest styles in knickers to buy for her son, so he isn’t teased in school. Because why else would anyone be searching for men in their knickers? I mean, knickers? The word is ridiculous. I just don’t want to know.
I got an unexpected compliment today. I love getting unexpected compliments. Any time that any of you want to give me a compliment, I’ll take it. And I won’t be all annoying about it, either, and pretend to have false modesty. I’m a very gracious compliment taker. I won’t simper and say, “Oh, no, I’m really a slimy worm. You don’t have to say things you don’t mean.”
Nope. I’ll totally believe that you mean the compliment and give a cheery, “Why, thank you!” in response.
Pam told me today that she thinks I’m exactly like the main character in the movie Brave. Oooo. Fluffy red hair and good at horseback riding? Oh, wait. Maybe she meant so self-centered that I’d turn my own mother into a bear with a suspect magic potion I got from a witch just to get my own way?
Pam clarified and said “spunky and independent.” Really? Well, ok– I’ll take it. “Why, thank you, Pam!”
And here’s where I’ll get slightly mushy. My parents came from bad homes. As children, they were told constantly how stupid they were. They’ve never managed to shake off the effects of that. They have a very hard time taking a compliment, and simply cannot believe that they are as clever and hilarious and wonderful as they actually are.
But back when they had me, they decided they would not raise their daughter by telling her she was stupid all the time.
And they didn’t.
They have always, always, been supportive of me and actively encouraged me in everything I wanted to do. They’ve showered me with words of affirmation my whole life. No, they didn’t let me act like a fool, but they always told me I was capable of doing whatever I wanted, and certainly never even hinted that I might be stupid. I’m very grateful that they purposed to surround me with gentle and encouraging words as I was growing up. What a blessing they are.