Okay...so I did a search on people on this particular blog server interested in knitting and I found a slough of people who started blogging, went once or twice or even five times and just... stopped.
So I panicked, and what was supposed to be a day off while I concentrated on a chapter inspired by a friend at dinner last night (for some reason people just can't get enough of Grace and Arturo, and while I hadn't been planning to give them a chapter this time around, I've had too many requests for their company not to give them some time in the spotlight) has now turned into a little tiny panic blog. I mean...I commited to this right? I can't just stop?
So while I have nothing profound to write about, I'll bore the ether with the details and hope they make someone blink and say, "Hey, it could be worse, my life could be THAT boring!"
The older kids aren't here today--they've gone on their annual "Camp Grandma" oddessey--my mom takes my kids and my sisters kids and her best friends' kids (although some of those kids have aged out) up to Lake Sugarpine once a year. More power to her--by July of summer vacation I surely am ready for my kids to belong to someone else for a while. And while my house was much more peaceful today, I've realized how much I depend on the 11 year old and the 13 year old for the closest thing I get all day to adult conversation. (Too sad for words, right??)
The worst part of the situation of having the kids gone is that I do most of my living on these days inside my head, which is great for working out the ol' neurons, but it makes me the worlds' most boring conversationalist. I was at a dinner party last night with my husband's friends (I love them all--they are young, bright, educated, elegant and witty... I feel like a landed whale surrounded by exotic fish in salt water aquariums, but the view is surely entertaining and exciting) and I found myself talking about how I can't even go to the bathroom in peace--the only thing I've managed to teach the middle schoolers is not to tell people I'm on the pot when they hand me the phone. Not necessarily dinner conversation, no, but I couldn't seem to help myself, and that's when I realized that my extended maternity leave had done it's damage--social ineptitude syndrome has settled in.
If you know anybody like this--someone who's spent years in a country where they don't speak the language, mommies stuck at home with their wonderful yet non-vocal children, people put in solitary confinement for unspeakable crimes--have pity on these people. You can spot them because the rhythm of their speech is off--they seem unacustomed to listening and when they do speak, it's like watching a train lose it's brakes on the top of a hill--you don't know where that bad boy is going but it's definitely out of control and that's one wreck you don't want to be there for. It's almost like watching someone switch to a language they don't know in midsentence...they don't know what they're saying but they've got to finish the sentence and then all their listeners are just sort of at a loss to respond.
Yup. That's what it's like to talk to me right now. It sort of explains the four blog entries in four days, doesn't it?
Tune in next post when I talk about the nasty growth on the cave troll's hand that the pediatrician has ignored for the last year and is now really hurting the poor little guy and scaring the crap out of me...
But that's another post, and for now, Grace and Arturo (and a pair of socks I need to either finish or dispose of) are waiting for me in the midnight hour while my husband kicks the crap out of some poor dragon in World of Warcraft. No wonder I'm socially stunted.