I’m sane again. Took a little trip to crazy land. Sometimes I get caught up in a bit of a twist. Too many things, too little sleep and a need to do everything perfectly. It creates quite a bit of inner turmoil. Sparky might say a bit of outer turmoil too, but he’s too busy sleeping to comment.
I don’t know how people with full time jobs and families blog. Blog, forget blog, I don’t know how families with real 9-5 jobs and kids and lives do anything without going a bit crazy. I’ve been taxiing Sparky to and from the train station at ungodly hours (4 am, midnight), going school, studying, book groups, human and animal doctor appointments, grocery shopping, cooking etc… What most people with lives do. It’s just been so long since I’ve had to juggle, I had almost forgotten how.
Yesterday, Sparks and I cleaned the entire house. The first time in three weeks. It was, even by my standards, filthy. Mutti came over and washed our windows for winter, which meant a 6 am wake up to make sure that the house was in suitable condition. Nothing’s clean until it’s Mutti clean. I can have my mother-in-law do my windows without guilt only if the rest of the house is spotless. Windows and ironing, two tasks I have no problem leaving to the experts.
Yesterday, I finally prepared my balkons for the winter. I am ready for snow. Wait, maybe I didn’t say it loud enough. I am READY for snow. Uh, Hell-llooo, Snow?? Where are you, Snow? I’ve missed you. I have my uggs out and my winter mittens. My peacoat and my Tuscan shawl are eagerly awaiting the snowball christening of the season. The seat heaters in my car are on standby.
Well, no snow today. Just lots of frost.
Last year was the first time I made a bird, but it was more of me “helping” Von Tauber in my kitchen. This year I’m on my own. I’ve invited Mutti and her sister Hilda. It’ll be just the four of us. Not quite the Thanksgivings of my youth. I will however, be drinking like the Thanksgivings of my youth and even though no one here likes the Clam Dunk cream cheese dip, its what I look forward to the most when having dinner at my dad’s house, so I’m making it.
The cat has climbed into the sleeve of my sweater, making it impossible to type. Since I can’t move the cat (cat-caretaker agreement, paragraph 27, line 5) I’m going to go read your blog.
Good morning, Sunshines!