bread, keys, santa, the toothfairy, nanowrimo, tons of baby geckos

I bought a bread maker. It is currently baking a 3lb loaf of white bread. It occurred to me twenty minutes into its baking cycle that it won't be finished until I am not home, and won't be for a while.

I'm feeling a little scatter brained lately.

Don't even ask me about driving halfway to Winnipeg in the car a couple of weeks ago only to have to turn around and go back after Steven called me to inform me that I had ALL the sets of van keys in my purse and he and the kids had plans. Or that I did the exact same thing just days before (happily, not on the way to Winnipeg), and again last night.

I'm going to blame everything/everyone/life/work and not just my own ridiculousness.

Kind of too bad about this bread though. It's actually pretty good; or, it would have been. Either way.

I won’t be home because I’m taking the kids to see the Holiday Train at 4:00 and the bread will be done at 4:20.

It actually irritates me that by the time Christmas is over the kids will have had the opportunity to see/meet/sit on Santa about a dozen times. Does it or does it not take the magic out of seeing Santa when we sit on his knee at two or three different functions, see him in a parade, pass by him every time we go to a mall somewhere, etc. etc. etc.?

We saw Santa on the weekend. It was the first time. Tennyson came right out and asked him if he was the real Santa. The guy insisted he was, and that it took him this many stops to get there to be with him, and Tennyson didn’t really push the issue, but I’m pretty sure that the leap between “Santa’s buddies help him out with special appearances because he’s so busy in December” and “Santa is kind of not real” isn’t that far.

Tennyson has lost his two top teeth. The other day after he lost the second one he asked me “Mommy, wouldn’t it be easier if I just gave you the tooth and you gave me some money?” Why, yes it would be easier than forgetting a couple of times and having to make excuses for the tooth fairy’s tardiness while face-palming ourselves for yet another parenting fail. Much easier. It really won’t be long. The magic in this house will fizzle out in the next year or two I’m sure.

What else.

This is one of those blog posts that is next to impossible to aptly title.

Oh yeah, Nanowrimo.

I tanked Nanowrimo. I skipped the first few days, wrote like crazy on the 3rd or 4th, and then realized that my story was so epically uninspired that there was no way I’d be able to make a plot out of it that I’d like enough to continue so I just stopped. Good thing I pestered you all about it for months ahead of time. Next year.

You know what would be fun? Taking an actual creative writing class. You know what sucks? Portage. You can go and learn how to make a pot out of clay, (which is awesome and all but how many of us have pottery wheels at home to keep up the hobby), but you can’t find actual courses in things that would help us learn to do actual real things better.

See? That last sentence needs so much work. Alas, no writing courses. It’ll remain how it was written.

Somebody ought to drop me off some cookies.

Last night I dreamed that somebody put handfuls of tiny baby geckos on me. In my hair, all over my clothes. It was weird.


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