Why Is My Hair Orange?

I decided that today was as good as day as any to color away my gray. Once upon a time, you couldn't find my natural color in a bottle; nowadays there's a couple that are pretty darn close. Me being me, however, I thought we'd take it a notch or two darker (don't tell my dad). I sit here now... hair completely saturated, scalp burning slightly, stench in the air.

Oh, to be a female.

On the plus side, I have at least fifteen uninterrupted minutes to sit on the edge of my bed and peck out a few rambling thoughts. Trust me, nobody wants to see me parade through the house right now. It's better we keep this side of womanhood hidden from the innocent. Besides, the husband will brave the elements soon enough to make sure I have not dribbled any hair color on the tile while looking at me in amused wonder.

Oh, to be a male.

I've been thinking about the children a lot lately and wondering if I have done all I could do to prepare them for life. I've become something of a slacker in my midlife; I'm only hoping I was as dedicated as I like to pretend I was when I was younger. The middle reminded me the other day of how I use to always tell them their words had power- that's biblical, you know- and the oldest reminded all of us of how I used two plants as a lesson to them. No kidding here... the one we spoke "life" to flourished and the poor sap we spoke "death" to did not stand a chance. Funny how I don't remember that, but they do. Time has an odd way of picking and choosing memories.

At any rate, here all three of them stand just itching to fly the nest. I don't take it personally, I take it pridefully. Wait. Does that sound right? What I mean to say is I know they're not counting the hours to get away from me (I hope); I know they are counting the hours to try it on their own and in that, I take great pride.

But boy, will I miss those little people.

Did I rock them enough? Did I provide enough milk and cookies? Did I sing them enough songs, color with them enough, read to them enough? Did my good words outweigh the bad thoughts? Did I provide enough hugs? Enough band aids? Enough amusement? I know I was hard on them at times- I was their teacher for a while, you know. I also know reinforcements were called in from the father on more than one occasion. In case you haven't figured it out, parenting does take two. I don't ever want them to think they can tackle that life event on their own.

Good Lord, have we done enough?
Thank goodness they are HIS anyway.

With that in mind, what do I have to fear?
Except an empty lap. An empty table. An empty bed.

Sheesh. If this is what happens when I time the color on my hair, maybe I would be better of to stick with the gray... and now I'm making myself laugh.

It must be the fumes.

Brace For Impact

Earlier today I read a facebook comment directed at me from a former student and I'm not ashamed to admit, it hit me hard. No, it wasn't bad or mean or sarcastic, just a simple note that warmed my heart and turned it to mush. After taking a moment to compose myself in the bathroom (hey, who doesn't utilize that quiet space?), I asked the Lord for forgiveness for my self-centeredness of late and thanked Him for the people He has put in my life.

My grandma. We all know that.
My mom and dad. I couldn't ask for better.
My brother. The husband. The three ducklings.

My fourth-grade teacher. She's the reason I wanted to teach.
My high school friends. The reasons I survived a small town.

The drill instructor in basic training who yelled at me in the midst of a rather difficult obstacle course. That yelling is what made me mad enough to fuel a successful finish.

Neighbors, past and present. Friends, old and new. Family, far and near.

I gotta tell you, though, as crazy as it may seem, it's those younger ones who have impacted me the most. The third and fourth graders who let me play cowboy songs to teach them states and capitals. Fifth and sixth graders who let me sing silly songs to teach them verbs and prepositions. Seventh and eighth graders who rolled their eyes (but couldn't help but smile) when I would act like a fool to teach them complex diagrams.

The kids I've had the privilege of seeing graduate.
My own kids who I've had the privilege to teach.

I'm telling you right now, I've had it good. No matter what the future may hold, the people who have impacted me have made the journey thus far pretty darn sweet. I think if we could all grasp that and hold onto it, our influence on the world around us would make more of a bang.

Imagine the impact that would be.

Being A Life Coach Is NOT On My Resume

A new calendar is on the fridge. It's a Gary Patterson... we do the same cat theme practically every year. Can't risk shaking things up too much.

The youngest asked me earlier if I do New Year's resolutions.

The answer?

Nope. Notta. Not worth the pressure.

I'd like to lose weight. I'd like to read more. I'd like to watch more basketball. I'd like to be a better wife, mother, friend. I'd like to read my bible more, pray more, give more. I'd like to be nicer, friendlier, happier. More optimistic. Less negativity. Cook more, clean more, walk more. 

A whole lotta MORE.

But you know what? I am who I am and to be perfectly honest, no one has ever accused me of having too much ambition. Let's face it, here I sit on this computer, in a recliner, the Wisconsin/South Carolina football game winding down. I have floors to clean, fans to dust, and papers to sort.

And most likely none of it will happen.

Oh, I have tackled laundry like a champ and managed to declutter my dresser, but other than that, my cleaning spree is about to come to an end. I'm in the midst of a good series on Netflix so even though reading is a passion of mine, the book has literally been put on a shelf for now. Papa John's did the cooking today. My bible has yet to be opened.

No wonder I don't do resolutions.

Nevertheless...

Happy New Year!

I'm all for new beginnings, even if I don't make promises to myself that I could never keep. Don't think of it as low expectations... think of it as a reality that I refuse to deny. I'll get where I'm going, one Gary Patterson calendar at a time.

Well-Timed Moments

So when your kids ask about your blog, you listen.

Your ears perk up. You blush with feigned humility. You feel special.

I mean, come on... if the kids think I must write, well then-
It is for the children, after all.



Yeah. I'll shut up already, but seriously, two out of three really did ask. With that in mind, we'll make this a test run and see if either one of them have any questions, comments, or otherwise. It should make a good story anyway.

We live in a house of somewhere around twelve hundred square feet. With one kid out of his teenage years (I need to update that blurb on my bio) and the other two kids well into the teenage life, it mostly feels like we are five adults sharing a sometimes very crowded space. Throw into the mix only one television (and antenna tv at that), and there are only so many places to hide when you would rather not face the world. So, when one is having a difficulty of sorts, we all know about it and we all share the pain. Last night when the pain for one became all too evident, a pow wow ensued with grievances aired, pep talks offered, and affirmations given. In the end, three kids celebrated their God-given sibling bond with a late night trip to the meeting place of all meeting places, Walmart.

And I have yet to figure out the allure of that.

At any rate, I found myself in my usual spot on the couch, book in hand, and settled in for the evening. The husband succumbed to the pull of online video gaming/you tube searching/mindless jump surfing and tuned out the world. The tv was off. The house quiet.

And Vince Gill began to sing.

I looked up from the glow of my nook book to see the husband looking at me. Granted, I had to put on my glasses to be certain he was looking my way, but when the blurriness adjusted to 20/20 vision, he had indeed pulled the jack on the headphones and motioned me to the dance floor, otherwise known as the living room floor rug.

While the kids walked the aisles of Walmart, the parents danced to bona fide country music. At one point I looked at my worn, pink fuzzy socks and chuckled at the sight we must have been to the cats who looked lazily on from their vantage point by the fire.

Now, twenty-four hours later, I sit in the same spot on the couch, the same worn, pink fuzzy socks on my feet, and the television on for a change. Before me is the husband, his back to me, an virtual mafia/swat team contest in the heat of battle capturing his attention. The Dick Van Dyke show has taken over what was a Wonder Woman movie and from time to time a kid wanders through the living room.

And all I'm thinking is,

Shouldn't you people be at Walmart?

I Think You Dreamed That

Look, I don't know what to tell you.

Maybe it's the season. You could blame it on homesickness.
Or the weather or the fact that I've been sick.

I know that last post said I was done. Finished. Signing off. Believe me, it was with every purest intention within me that I wrote those words. I knew what I was doing. No hesitation in the least.

And yet here I am.

I have absolutely no idea what I am doing.



There's nothing new under the sun, is there?

The End

I am officially bringing this blog to a close.

Thanks to all who have read and wondered and accepted. If my life were a book, it would have been over a long time ago. Save your bookmark for another story. There's always another one on the bookshelf.

Thanks again,
Angela

Facebook and Other Worthless News

My blogging machine seems to have run out of steam. I'm beginning to think that the whole thing was necessary to get me through those workless years. Now that I'm back to full-time, I might have more to write about, but also a whole lot more people to offend. It just doesn't seem worth it.

Speaking of offending people, I shut down my facebook account and started a new one. My previous account just had too many issues that the faceless facebook people were not being of much help to fix. The final straw was a rather lengthy form they had me fill out detailing all the glitches I was experiencing. When I hit submit, a new window opened informing me not to expect any help or a reply... my information would simply be used for future facebook improvements.

Yeah. A lot of good that did me in the present.

I think I'm ready to join the husband and venture off the grid.