You know what happens when I brag to all of my friends on facebook about how I am now getting to bed before eleven p.m.? Yep...I can't sleep. Don't you just love it when old Murphy comes along to kick ya in the rear with that stinkin' law of his? Ugh.
Volleyball shoes. Volleyball shoes are the culprit. Perusing the internet for volleyball shoes for my daughter, who just made the Freshmen team for Mountain Crest High School in Hyrum, Utah. Didn't I just read, only a few days ago, that if one has trouble sleeping, or falling asleep, NOT to spend time on the computer before retiring to bed? Now, what happens if that "one" has a splendid case of ADHD...ooh...the possibilities are limitless. Volleyball shoes turned into cowboy boots for moi, which then morphed into spiky high heels to die for, followed by lace up to the knee Converse All-Stars for the teenagers in my brood. It's like a creeping vine on the front of the house...cute and frisky as it grows, adding a little greenery to the otherwise lacking appearance of a brick facade, only to turn into Cousin It by year's end, suffocating the windows and doors and all you hold sacred and holy! I do have to state, however, that I only LOOKED. I did not purchase. All is not lost.
Then came Netflix. Donna's overactive mind had just got started and what's a girl to do, after all? I watched "Julie & Julia", a completely splendid film about a girl who had a striking resemblence to...me, myself and I...not physically, per say...just in that erratic, slipshod, immediate gratification seeking kind of way. Watching "Julie & Julia" brought my mind about to my blog, which I have not posted on for over six months. SIX MONTHS! Wow. Where did the time go and why don't I remember it being more fun, since everyone says, "time flies when you're having fun"? For me, it just flew...a la carte...hold the fun. Okay, that's not completely true. I dabbled with a bit of fun in these last six months, but just a dab...truly. Here's hoping to a stellar four months that I have left in this year. Gotta make up for these last six, you see.
This is when I did the unthinkable. I looked out the window. (Reminds me of a Primary song I used to love...except there was NO popcorn popping on the apricot tree.) Lo and behold, the chicken coop doors were wide open with the brooding light on. There couldn't be a more clear invitation to every skunk, fox, and racoon in Beaver Dam than that. To top it off, the chickens were alive and well and carrying on quite a conversation. I am a worry wart. On goes the sweatshirt. On goes my daughter's slip on shoes (sorry about the poop, Ness). Out goes Donna at 2:35 a.m. to secure our little feathered friends and to take a good look at the chicken coop that has NOT been cleaned, the laying boxes that have NOT been refilled with clean hay, and the empty food tray, which is no doubt what the little critters were yapping about in the first place. Time to have a talk with a neglectful child or two. I didn't count the hens, but the roost was full of 'em, so I suppose all is well that ends well...except for me...who can't sleep.
Which brings me back around to the blog. It's been so long that I even forgot my password. Sheesh Lou-eesh. I should be flogged. Perhaps all IS well that ends well, though, because here I am writing again, with a little help from a facebook friend who suggested I get my rear in gear (thank you Tracy) and a little kick in the pants from a pair of volleyball shoes!
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