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The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor

April

The Architect

Clay

Somethin’s gotta give.

I’ve been saying it all week, something, anything has got to give and it seems it may be my brain. I’m at the point where I don’t know if I’m coming or going or if I’ve already been there.

So far I’ve..

-delivered two meals to teachers that I wasn’t supposed to deliver until next Monday. By the way I really suck at taking good meals to people. I just seem to fumble around and can’t think of what to make and then I end up taking them the worst concoction of sorts. It’s really best for everyone if they just come to my house and eat under normal circumstances and then they will have a better idea of what kind of cook I am.

-sat in a waiting room for two hours for a Dr. to tell me my son did not break his leg and why the heck was I there in the first place and duh-hur keep him off the gall bladder tramploline!

-passed up my exit on the highway not once, but twice because I was too busy having a conversation with myself about how I should really go back home and not take my son to the doctor, just give it time, but what if it’s broken…and Gall Bladder I missed the exit, AGAIN!

-was one hour late taking my son to his class.

-was fifteen minutes late taking the kids to piano lessons.

-refused to take my daughter to soccer practice because if I had to get in the van and drive even one more minute I was going to shrivel up and die, so instead I flopped on my bed and ate some cookies and then I felt better.

-and the clencher this week… I yelled at two of my sons that if they couldn’t get along and love each other then they needed to move out! Yep, that’s all I could come up with. A big empty threat.

Just to end this post on a fun note and prove that I have no brain cells left this is the conversation Clay and I had this morning while observing the progess of the braces on our daugher’s teeth.

Me- Her teeth are small.

Him- Yeah, they look like your teeth.

Me- I don’t have small teeth!

Him- Yes, you do.

Me- You look at my teeth and you think they are small?

Him- Yes, when I saw your teeth I thought they were smaller than what should be expected.

Me- Take that back. Say I have big teeth!

Him- But, you have petite teeth. Peteeth. Get it? Peteeth.

Me- Yeah, I get it. I also get that you have horse teeth, you’re a horse head!

Thank the Maker that you all can’t see the faces and sound effects that we were making during this conversation….but our daughter sat and watched the whole thing. What must her impression of us be?

***
Clay’s response after reading this post, “You’re funny, you and your big horse teeth are funny.” He has the sweetest way of complementing me.

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