The Confusing…The Confusing Life

Three cheers for Spring Break!

And three curses that it’s over. (Wait!—slap your hand over your mouth. I do not advocate cursing on this or any other blog. Even though I may have said…um, thought…a couple of things that required a little repenting while unpacking my car. But God understood my heart. And I’m pretty sure He’s sad that I have to go back to work, too).

But before we resume normal, crappy life, I feel that my week needs some serious reviewing. First, because it was just awesome and I want to relive it over and over. And second, because I learned a couple of things about myself that puzzled me slightly and might help my reader friends out there. All two of you.

So last week, we loaded up the car and set out for the beach. And let me pause this story to say how relieved I was to find my house and furnishings still intact after mentioning my impending departure on my last post. Though I AM a little disappointed that my sofa is still here. That mention was a total hint. I really wanted to tell my husband that it had been stolen. Along with my cat. Because I want a new one.
Sofa, that is. Not cat. I’m more of a dog person, myself.

Anyway, after a whole lotta hours and way too many stops, **points to self with the dime-sized bladder** we pulled up here:

And I did this:

Those are my feet on the right. And I didn’t move for, like, the whole week. I sat there for so long, I’m fairly certain my footprints will still be there in the summer. Along with the imprint of my butt. You’re welcome to the person who stumbles upon it later.

And while I was doing all that sitting, I read this:

Which is just the greatest book, for so many reasons. It’s told from the perspective of a 12-year-old boy. And let me tell you, this boy has the greatest sense of humor. Laugh out loud humor. I must read that line again and again humor. And though it’s filled with many, many poignant lines and moments and supporting characters that stay in your memory long after you finish reading, much of the book is just fun. And I could relate to this boy. Because he messes up a lot. Because his mind is filled with awkward, rambling thoughts. And because all he really wants in life is a dang cream puff. And for some reason, they keep eluding him. And I know this feeling. Like, I want a cream puff right now. And I don’t have any. And my neighbors aren’t getting the subliminal messages I keep sending them to go to the store and buy me one, because I just got home and I’m too tired to go. And because clearly something is wrong with their transmission signals. And that is just stinkin’ unfair. So I guess I’m gonna have to re-drill the secret holes between our houses tomorrow to make sure they get my signals from now on.

Oh, the things I have to put up with.

So, then on the single rainy day we experienced on our beach vacation, I got up from my sandy spot and went shopping. And bought this:

Which leads me to the reason I’m slightly puzzled. Does anyone else find my purchases odd? I mean, at the time, I thought, “Oh, these shirts are a good deal! I’ll buy two! But then four would be even better!” And it made sense. So I bought them. And of course I bought those shorts. Because they’re basic. Denim. Necessary for my summer survival.


Other than the orangey shirt, so similar to these:

Which is what I bought for my youngest boy.

And it got me to thinking….
The sand. The sitting. The book. The cream puffs. The clothes.
I began to feel so confused.
Because for the first time in life, I found myself facing a bonafide identity crisis.
And this is what hit me.
(deep sigh)
I think I have the mind of a 12-year-old boy.
And the lazy streak.
And the appetite.
And now…also…the wardrobe.

And how’s a 29, ahem, 30-ish-or-so lip-gloss-loving woman supposed to deal with this?

I dunno, but maybe I’ll find the answers back at the beach. Next year. But until then, I’m in for a long, long wait.

And a cream puffless existance. Unless I get up…and go to the store.
Darn neighbors.

Happy Back To School! (whatever)


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