Ghost

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Little bit of goofiness in the morning sets us up for a good day.

Little bit of goofiness in the morning sets us up for a good day.

Just another manic Monday…

… whoa, ooh whoa… Wish it were Sunday…

You know, I’ve not said much as of late.

Today my 3 1/2-year-old daughter has an intake appointment with a therapist.

I’ve written and deleted several sentences to follow that statement. How she’s stressed out, from what I can see. How I want her to be able to get through her worries and frustrations, live a better life than I did. How therapy has helped her brother, my sweet B, so much these past months.

I struggled with feelings of failure. It felt - and feels - as though I’ve failed them already. If I’d done my job, my children would not be seeing a THERAPIST more often than their FATHER. If I’d done my job correctly, I’d have been able to keep my mother away from their father, keep her out of all our lives. If I’d have been able to protect us all, my children wouldn’t be…

… they wouldn’t be like this.

And then I remember how far my son has come, with his therapist. How his confidence has grown, and the few issues I’d been concerned with have been resolved. How he is learning to deal with his feelings & emotions & confusion at the big, wide world - which is more than I can say for most adults (yours truly included).

This might be all right. My wee ones, they trust me. They trust that I will make the right decisions, keep them warm and safe and fed and loved. Maybe I could trust me a little in that department, too.

Wish my girl some luck today. And maybe her momma, too.

What a day.
I imagine cake pops are in our near future.
Oh, dear.

What a day.

I imagine cake pops are in our near future.

Oh, dear.

imagine-p-e-a-c-e:

more inspiration here :)

Being called on my bullshit?

Is a double-edged sword.

Walking to school.

What’s with little boys and tongues hanging out? Silly child.

Walking to school.

What’s with little boys and tongues hanging out? Silly child.

fuckyesmaps:

smithsonianmag:

The Highest Resolution Image of Earth Ever

This composite image uses a number of swaths of the Earth’s surface taken on January 4, 2012.

Click the photo for the 8000x8000 image

Do it! The detail in this photo is incredible.

fuckyesmaps:

smithsonianmag:

The Highest Resolution Image of Earth Ever

This composite image uses a number of swaths of the Earth’s surface taken on January 4, 2012.

Click the photo for the 8000x8000 image

Do it! The detail in this photo is incredible.

That awkward moment when your best friend is pissed the fuck off at you, and you feel guilty, thinking it’s for good reason?
Yea, that.
Shit.
When you realize that you’ve been manipulated to the nth degree, and your best friend has said some really ugly things, because she didn’t get her way?
Ugh. Worse.
Shit shit.
This day is over. (At least we had forts and sledding down the stairs.)
Next day, please.

That awkward moment when your best friend is pissed the fuck off at you, and you feel guilty, thinking it’s for good reason?

Yea, that.

Shit.

When you realize that you’ve been manipulated to the nth degree, and your best friend has said some really ugly things, because she didn’t get her way?

Ugh. Worse.

Shit shit.

This day is over. (At least we had forts and sledding down the stairs.)

Next day, please.

Today is Momma & Son Day. We walked home from school hand-in-hand (as is our way), and we took turns taking pictures of things. I took a picture of him. He took a picture of the sidewalk. I took a picture of the sky. He took a picture of me.
After being so patient while I spent two hours scrubbing the floors, I grabbed his hand and made for the linen closet. “Let’s build a fort!!” I announced. Working together, we managed to make it almost as large as the living room.
This? Is a happy child. He hasn’t left his fort except to grab a muffin and an apple, and to share a congratulatory hug & high-five.

Today is Momma & Son Day. We walked home from school hand-in-hand (as is our way), and we took turns taking pictures of things. I took a picture of him. He took a picture of the sidewalk. I took a picture of the sky. He took a picture of me.

After being so patient while I spent two hours scrubbing the floors, I grabbed his hand and made for the linen closet. “Let’s build a fort!!” I announced. Working together, we managed to make it almost as large as the living room.

This? Is a happy child. He hasn’t left his fort except to grab a muffin and an apple, and to share a congratulatory hug & high-five.

dogtagsandflipflops:

word
septagonstudios:

Chris Piascik
Why yes, I’d love nothing more than to trudge through the freezing rain with my younger child to go retrieve my older child from kindergarten.
I’d love. Nothing. More.
(Bitching about winter weather is what makes me an Oregonian.)

Why yes, I’d love nothing more than to trudge through the freezing rain with my younger child to go retrieve my older child from kindergarten.

I’d love. Nothing. More.

(Bitching about winter weather is what makes me an Oregonian.)

Why did the chicken cross the road?

  • Plato: For the greater good.
  • Karl Marx: It was a historical inevitability.
  • Machiavelli: So that its subjects will view it with admiration, as a chicken which has the daring and courage to boldly cross the road, but also with fear, for whom among them has the strength to contend with such a paragon of avian virtue? In such a manner is the princely chicken's dominion maintained.
  • Hippocrates: Because of an excess of light pink gooey stuff in its pancreas.
  • Jacques Derrida: Any number of contending discourses may be discovered within the act of the chicken crossing the road, and each interpretation is equally valid as the authorial intent can never be discerned, because structuralism is DEAD, DAMMIT, DEAD!
  • Thomas de Torquemada: Give me ten minutes with the chicken and I'll find out.
  • Timothy Leary: Because that's the only kind of trip the Establishment would let it take.
  • Douglas Adams: Forty-two.
  • Nietzsche: Because if you gaze too long across the Road, the Road gazes also across you.
  • Oliver North: National Security was at stake.
  • B.F. Skinner: Because the external influences which had pervaded its sensorium from birth had caused it to develop in such a fashion that it would tend to cross roads, even while believing these actions to be of its own free will.
  • Carl Jung: The confluence of events in the cultural gestalt necessitated that individual chickens cross roads at this historical juncture, and therefore synchronicitously brought such occurrences into being.
  • Jean-Paul Sartre: In order to act in good faith and be true to itself, the chicken found it necessary to cross the road.
  • Ludwig Wittgenstein: The possibility of "crossing" was encoded into the objects "chicken" and "road", and circumstances came into being which caused the actualization of this potential occurrence.
  • Albert Einstein: Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road crossed the chicken depends upon your frame of reference.
  • Aristotle: To actualize its potential.
  • Buddha: If you ask this question, you deny your own chicken-nature.
  • Howard Cosell: It may very well have been one of the most astonishing events to grace the annals of history. An historic, unprecedented avian biped with the temerity to attempt such an herculean achievement formerly relegated to homo sapien pedestrians is truly a remarkable occurence.
  • Salvador Dali: The Fish.
  • Darwin: It was the logical next step after coming down from the trees.
  • Emily Dickinson: Because it could not stop for death.
  • Epicurus: For fun.
  • Ralph Waldo Emerson: It didn't cross the road; it transcended it.
  • Johann von Goethe: The eternal hen-principle made it do it.
  • Ernest Hemingway: To die. In the rain.
  • Werner Heisenberg: We are not sure which side of the road the chicken was on, but it was moving very fast.
  • David Hume: Out of custom and habit.
  • Jack Nicholson: 'Cause it [censored] wanted to. That's the [censored] reason.
  • Pyrrho the Skeptic: What road?
  • Ronald Reagan: I forget.
  • John Sununu: The Air Force was only too happy to provide the transportation, so quite understandably the chicken availed himself of the opportunity.
  • The Sphinx: You tell me.
  • Mr. T.: If you saw me coming you'd cross the road too!
  • Henry David Thoreau: To live deliberately ... and suck all the marrow out of life.
  • Mark Twain: The news of its crossing has been greatly exaggerated.
  • Molly Yard: It was a hen!
  • Zeno of Elea: To prove it could never reach the other side.
  • Chaucer: So priketh hem nature in hir corages.
  • Wordsworth: To wander lonely as a cloud.
  • The Godfather: I didn't want its mother to see it like that.
  • Keats: Philosophy will clip a chicken's wings.
  • Blake: To see heaven in a wild fowl.
  • Othello: Jealousy.
  • Dr. Johnson: Sir, had you known the Chicken for as long as I have, you would not so readily enquire, but feel rather the Need to resist such a public Display of your own lamentable and incorrigible Ignorance.
  • Mrs. Thatcher: This chicken's not for turning.
  • Supreme Soviet: There has never been a chicken in this photograph.
  • Oscar Wilde: Why, indeed? One's social engagements whilst in town ought never expose one to such barbarous inconvenience - although, perhaps, if one must cross a road, one may do far worse than to cross it as the chicken in question.
  • Kafka: Hardly the most urgent enquiry to make of a low-grade insurance clerk who woke up that morning as a hen.
  • Swift: It is, of course, inevitable that such a loathsome, filth-ridden and degraded creature as Man should assume to question the actions of one in all respects his superior.
  • Macbeth: To have turned back were as tedious as to go o'er.
  • Whitehead: Clearly, having fallen victim to the fallacy of misplaced concreteness.
  • Freud: An die andere Seite zu kommen. (Much laughter.)
  • Hamlet: That is not the question.
  • Donne: It crosseth for thee.
  • Pope: It was mimicking my Lord Hervey.
  • Constable: To get a better view.
  • Yeats: She was following the Faeries that sang to her to come away with them from the dull, bucolic comfort of the farmyard to the waters and the wild.
  • Shelley: 'Tis a metaphor for the pursuits of man: though 'twas deemed an extraordinary occurrence at the time, still it brought little to bear on the great scheme of time and history, and was ultimately fruitless and forgotten.
  • Tolkien: Chickens are respectable folk, and well thought of. They never go on any adventures or do anything unexpected. One fine spring day, as the chicken wandered contentedly around the farmyard, clucking and pecking and enjoying herself immensely, there appeared a Wizard and thirteen Dwarves who were in need of a chicken to share in their adventure. Reluctantly she joined their party, and with them crossed the road into the great Unknown, muttering about how rude the Dwarves were to take her away on such short notice, without even giving her time to brush her feathers or fetch her hat.
  • Poe: The fowl was driven to utter, fervent madness-- it lept 'cross the path in the hopes that sweet death might take his wanton body- by the lead foot of a passerby, the barreling coach of a postman!- and put an end to the mania which had puzzled and tormented him ever since That Day.
This child. Dressed herself. Pink hair bow. Pink shirt. Pink pants. Pink undies. Pink tutu - because no outfit is complete without one.

The black and grey polar bear outfit I laid out, while cute, was no match for this bubble gum concoction.

“Momma, do you have pink socks I can borrow? I can’t reach my sock drawer.”

Le sigh.

This child. Dressed herself. Pink hair bow. Pink shirt. Pink pants. Pink undies. Pink tutu - because no outfit is complete without one.

The black and grey polar bear outfit I laid out, while cute, was no match for this bubble gum concoction.

“Momma, do you have pink socks I can borrow? I can’t reach my sock drawer.”

Le sigh.

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