life has been so full, that i haven't taken the time to blog. of course, i kick myself for this, because when life is full, that's when the most interesting and blog-worthy things are happening!
~Carrie from A Day in the Life of...
"Where you been? I mean, you didn't come back with a tan or anything..." ~Paraphrase of David Wilcox's Spin.
You've heard it before. Someone you love hasn't seen you for a while. Suddenly, there you are, standing face to face with each other in the grocery store near the Noxema and Sea Breeze. You exchange gasps and one of you shouts, "Oh my gosh! What are you doing here? Where have you BEEN?"
And you think about it. Hmm. Where HAVE I been? So much has been going on. But you know, you say, I just can't put my finger on any one thing right now!
So here we are, you and I, standing in the Health and Beauty aisle of the local Piggly Wiggly and you're asking me, "Where have you BEEN?"
And I'm thinking about it.
The truth is, I've been all over the place, physically AND mentally. I mean, is it just me or do essays come in floods and droughts? Like now, I've got about a gazillion topics flooding my brain and can't possibly take the time to sit down and write them all. Plus, people only read the top entry in a blog anyway. Don't lie to me to make me feel better. I know it's true. I have stats, ya know.
So I kinda try to keep it down to one blog entry a day. Kinda. On some days, I'm thinkin' that writing's a bit like manna. I should take it while it's there and don't even THINK about storing it up.
But other days, like today, I'm thinking I should take more of the boy scout tack and be prepared. Write down all those essays and thoughts that are rattling around in my head. Save 'em for a rainy day. Or a writing drought. 'Cause sure's shootin' there will come a day when I sit in front of this transistorized tormentor and the computer in my head will flash nothin' but a great big cursor. Then, if I were a good boy scout, I'd have a ready-made essay, all set to cut-n-paste into the "compose" field and we'd all be happy.
Somehow, though, I feel like that's cheating. So I just don't do it.
Meanwhile, your feet are probably getting tired, and you're getting a bit weary of standing in the Health and Beauty aisle, so I start to rattle out loud instead of just in my head.
"Well, hmmm. Where have I been? Okay. Lessee. When did I see you last? Ah! That's right! The last time we talked, I was telling you how I met with The Happy Housewife who tried to teach my how to sew, but my sewing machine wouldn't work! I kinda lost my tail wind after that, I suppose. We haven't talked much since then. Or have we talked at all? No? Wow. I can't believe how time flies.
"Okay. Huh. Lessee. Oh! I know! We went on a field trip! Did I tell you about the field trip? It's been so long, I can barely remember. I'll have to show you the pictures. We went to the NASA Glenn Research Center in...what's that? Oh, I told you about that? Sorry.
"OH YEAH! Now I remember! Here's where I've been!"
And then I list all the stuff I've been doing. Like:
"I went to this homeschool support group meeting with Blue (Pensive Wanderer) where they were having an arts and science fair. I was mortified to see that at least a half-dozen of the displays had major misspellings and misuses of apostrophes, like in 'Question's and Answer's.' Maybe I'm just hypersensitive after reading the first half of Eats, Shoots and Leaves." And then I think about that for a minute.
"Nah," I say. "I really was just mortified by that."
And then I go on. You smile politely.
"I've been working on a course on baking for Bard. It's based on a book by Lora Brody called Basic Baking. I'm just kinda cutting the book into readable chunks and giving her a notebook full of questions based on the reading material. It's really a great book. The copy I'm currently using is from the library, but I just found one on eBay for $4.00. It really does go through the basics of baking and then takes the reader through a series of baking categories, like bar cookies, quick breads and coffeecakes, cookies, cakes, pies, etc., explaining what can go wrong and how to correct the problems.
"I've also been working on applying the things I've learned in Home Comforts by Cheryl Mendelson. I can't believe how much I didn't know before I started reading this book! In addition to creating a series of weekly duties for each child in our family, I've been applying some of the principles and methods presented in Mendelson's book. It has made a big difference, though I still feel as though I spend a good portion of my day cleaning." You offer some sympathetic wisdom, and I agree.
And even though you're a good friend, by this time, you're kind of glancing longingly at the toothpaste, wishing you could just go on with your shopping and get out of the Piggly Wiggly. But, hey, you asked. Right?
"I've been doing a lot of driving, too. The Amish don't drive motor vehicles, but they don't mind paying someone else to do it for them. Did you know that? So, I've set myself for hire to earn money for my daughter's trip. Did I tell you that she's going to China in June? I didn't? Well, she is. She's going with her choir, and we have to raise about another $1,200 before she can go. She's cleaning and babysitting and I'm driving neighbors to the store, the doctor, church, where ever. It's pretty fun. I get to know my neighbors, help them out a bit, plus I get to earn money for Bard's trip. Yeah, I think so, too.
"Houdin, he's my thirteen year old...what's that? Yeah, he's thirteen already. He'll be fourteen in June. Yeah, growin' like a weed. Anyway, he and I have been butting heads like you can't believe. Today he dragged his feet doing his chores and just couldn't get his attitude straightened out, so he missed out on going on a field trip. Where'd we go? Oh. Um...it was called MAPS. Stands for Military Aviations Preservation Society. Or something like that. I think.
"Anyway, it was interesting. It fell in line with the stuff we've been learning about Neil Armstrong and other aviation-type stuff. But because of Houdin's bad attitude, he missed out. I wish I could get on the same level with that boy. Please pray for me, will you? Thanks. "
And because you're a good friend, I know you will.
"Hey, I should be letting you go. I didn't mean to keep you this long. Aw, man. I'm sorry...aw, man! Your ice cream's melting all over the floor! Here, lemme get you a new one. No? Okay. Sorry. "
And I'd still be thinking of things I'd like to tell you, because we're friends and I know you're interested, though maybe not right now. And even though my mind has started to recall all kinds of things I want to tell you, I wouldn't say any more about me. I'd just think it. I'd think about my creative writing classes and the kids' piano lessons and how I really want to make it to the music store I heard about to see if I can learn to play banjo or mandolin, and I want to tell you about the art classes I have coming up and how perturbed I am that someone cancelled out on me at the last minute and how thrilled I am that someone else just signed up. But I don't tell you about all that.
And I don't tell you about the argument I had with my husband for coming home too late to get to tonight's library program or how I think I've gained ten pounds but don't know why. I don't tell you about how I taught myself to make mitered corners on my bedsheets or how I've started airing my bedroom out every morning because Cheryl Mendelson says it kills dust mites and freshens a stale room. If I told you all that, it would be too much information.
So instead we exchange promises to get together soon, and we say it's been too long, and we musn't let it go this long again. I tell you that I have this idea for a mother-daughter book club and another idea for a homeschooler's baking class based on the lessons I'm working up for my daughter. And maybe you'd like to come? You'd probably nod politely, because that's the kind of person you are. That's why we're such good friends, even though I'm one poor correspondent. You're just so patient with me. That's why I like you.
And then I remember what a heel I truly am. "I'm so sorry," I say. "I spent so much time talking about me that I forgot to ask you how you've been doing. Maybe the next time," I say.
And there is a next time. And I look at you and gasp and say, "Oh my gosh! Where have you been?"
And you tell me...
