The Good Ol' Days

on 27 June 2011

I was thinking about the good ol' days on this blog...back when I posted every other day or so.

Yeah.   Not so much lately, huh?

I was chatting with my mom yesterday.  We were down at their house because Chris was helping my Dad extend his deck, and I was saying that I felt bad for not telling more Boy stories on the blog, because frankly, my Boy his hilarious right now.  But the thing is...I've TRIED.  They don't translate well to written form.  They are hilarious when they happen, but you need to see his face and hear him saying what he's saying in order for it to bring the funny...and well...every time I try to get him to perform for the camera, he just shuts down into a little turtle shell of shyness.

And so, you just have to take my word for it.  He's hilarious.

And now, for a pressing matter.  I have a question for all of you women with mad skillz out there.  Am I the only one who has a hard time working on projects in the summer?  I have 3 projects on knitting needles right now.  One for my sister in law (it's coming Kristi, I promise, before you go to Utah), that literally only needs the sleeves finished, it would take LESS than a week if I could bring myself to sit down to it...but I just can't!  I can't face the thought of working on it when it's so hot outside.  Never mind, that I live perpetually in doors because of the heat and the allergies (oh my lands, my sinuses people), maybe it's the bright sunshine that makes my eyes unable to focus on what I'm doing.  I know not...all I know is that I can't concentrate on anything remotely useful right now.

So I read.  A LOT.  In fact, I declared to Chris yesterday that this summer, I dub the Summer of M's Favorite Ginormous Novels.  I'm nearly done with Wives and Daughters and I think I'm going to reread either Our Mutual Friend or Bleak House next.  After that, I'm going to reread Vanity Fair since I haven't read it since I was a grad student.  And after that I might finish off the summer by rereading Middlemarch.

So when you wonder where I am and why don't I write...close your eyes and imagine my lying languid with a congested head and a funny boy reading some novel so thick it could double for a door stop.

Oh what do you do in the summer time?

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