Things That Get Me Going

So here it is, 10:30 on a Saturday night. The kids have been banished to bed after finally watching Titanic with Ethan (who DID cry as promised), and My Boy is gone at a paramedic refresher near Hood River someplace. My older girls have been bemoaning the fact that they are the Only Teenagers Alive that haven't seen Titanic, as if I should bear the guilt of this cosmic, heinous crime for not allowing them to watch it. Really it just never crossed my mind to see it again after the first time, and didn't realize I was depriving my children culturally. I guess in the interest of their well-roundedness I can bear Celine Dion one more time. Somehow it sounded like a good idea for Ethan to make a big pot of coffee before we started the movie, and he put some cinnamon in the grounds that made it extra yummy, so I drank plenty. Even if I wasn't already on a pretty steady regime of sleeping pills I would probably be scrounging some up tonight.

I was/am in a lot of pain tonight, and after fake-shopping my way through several websites, where I filled up my cart and applied a bunch of coupons and then closed the page, I decided I needed to find another distraction for myself. I mean, not that Titanic isn't riveting, but despite it having been at least 16 year since I saw it (wait, when was that released?) I could still recite almost every line. I would attribute that primarily to the depth of the plot/script rather than my keen memory. Sorry Ethan. Any way, I started up a few chat conversations on Facebook, thinking that would almost be like socializing, but different. I think  I must have been monopolizing the conversations, because people kept telling me "good night" and "sleep well" and stuff like that right after I would send a 17 inch post. Even my Own Precious Husband wasn't responding. I am sure he was very busy studying. Something. So finding something to ramble about in this forum seemed like a good outlet, since blogger is a captive audience and he can't get away from me. I do have to keep saving my draft though because oddly enough the page keeps freezing. I half expect an error message to pop up: "Good Night. Sleep Well." And then the computer reboots itself. There are moments that I think I actually have something interesting to say, but then when I step back and look at what I have written it's a whole bunch of black marks on a white screen just reading out "blahblahblahblahblah", and I realize I should probably get to the point. Well, Mr. Blogger Bloggerson, I don't have a point in all this, except to prove that I can say anything I want to you and you can't ignore me. Not that you have ever responded to me anyway...

This week has been kind of long and dry for me, in a psycho-spiritual way. I think I am bored with all of the trying in my life. Trying to be cheerful, Trying to be a peacemaker, Trying to check my attitudes, Trying to make dinner every night, Trying to do the laundry, Get to work on time, Not let the house fall apart, Drink my juice, Take my vitamins, NOT take my pills, Take my pills, Do exercises, Will myself to Feel Better. I think I ran out of gas. But I am not entirely what kind of gas I take. Josh asked me the other day why I hadn't written anything and I just said I couldn't think of anything. He looked at me skeptically and checked me for a fever, which I had, and then he seemed content to let it go. I think he just missed being talked about in front of his back. It is now a cemented expectation that if I write something, anything, that I am required to tag him in my post on Facebook or he might not know that there is new material for him to read, and respond to in order to avoid getting yelled at for being neglectful. Because this is now a hard and fast rule, obviously I am rebelling against it and have even not shared some of my posts on Facebook at all, let alone tagging him, just so I can yell at him for being neglectful. It's not like it would be that hard to check my blog page every couple hours or something. I know he's always got his phone handy...

Those darn phones. I know I am the chiefest of sinners, but I am trying to institute some new standards in our home - phones have never been tolerated at the dinner table but somehow Ethan thinks now that he has his own chair he can use his phone when he's sitting there, regardless of mealtimes. I have tried to explain to him that his own chair is NOT the same as his own bedroom and he cannot do whatever he wants there, but ultimately I might need to paint over his name to get the point across. It doesn't help that I had to reprimand my other oldest child the other night at dinner when he made some feeble excuse about a client or some business related bullpucky that apparently couldn't wait until the Pineapple Curry was finished. I have also decided that said Eldest Child will pay for all of our eating out meals when he can't refrain from touching his phone during these times. If it's work related, then work foots the bill. Seems logical to me. We've instituted some new financial procedures around here and I am finding clever ways like that to work them to my advantage. Luckily I can rely on him to touch base with his beloved iPhone at least once during a casual lunch date. Or dinner date. Or any date. A few weeks ago at a birthday dinner for a friend we all stacked our phones on the table and the first person to touch their phone had to pay the whole bill. Yes I saw the idea on Pinterest, and yes, it worked. There were a couple of fake outs when habit nearly devoured economic interest, but everyone remained sane for the hour they were phoneless. I am trying to introduce this theory to Josh in small, incremental steps. So far he thinks I am totally kidding when I remind him to "be with the friends that are here" (also stolen from Pinterest), much in the same way he kids Ethan about "making good choices" every time he leaves the house. I am pretty sure that neither admonishment should be taken lightly. Obviously, I too have a lot to work on in this department, as I am constantly concerned with checking my eBay auctions and seeing if anyone commented on my latest Facebook post. I am an attention glutton. There is simply no way to deny it. The cellular telephone has awakened and nourished that greed in my soul for constant connection to as many people as possible, often at the expense of flesh and blood relationships sitting right next to me. Don't get me wrong, I am as un-anti-cellphone as they come. What we ever did before the iPhone is so hard for me to remember that I get a little weepy. It's like those foggy childhood glimpses of memory that are more smell and sound and a certain hue of color than any specific event. I know we got by, somehow... but I can't imagine it now. I am sure that all of my children would be dead and I would be homeless on the street if I didn't have an iPhone. Ok, that might be a little extreme, but it sure would be lonely hanging out with Josh and his iPhone all by myself.  If you can't beat them, make them sorry they ever made you try. That's what I say.

Well, the caffeine doesn't seem to be wearing off, but the extra dose of medicine I took tonight gave me a fearsome itch all over. Maybe it's time for some Benadryl and curling up in the fetal position with 16 pillows and a Dagny. I get to sleep in tomorrow morning, which is both exhilarating and terrifying, when I realize that I will probably wake up at 6:30 and not be able to get back to sleep. Maybe I will double my drugs tonight just to be sure. Or take another round when I get up for my 2 am potty run. Or the 4 am run even. Good lord I am getting old. This is embarrassing. Makes me glad Mr. Blogger can't talk back.

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