7 Takes: Small Things with Great Drama



Wanted, Neighbors: There are now two houses for sale across the street from me (one in foreclosure — bargain time!), one for rent on the other side, and another one that would be for sale except I think the owner decided there was no point in trying.  I know we’re a little goofy, and our lawn furniture is never straight, and the dog gets out sometimes . . . but I think it’s not us.  If anyone wants to colonize a neighborhood, it’s your big chance.  Low crime, convenient location, lawn-boy-in-residence, reasonable taxes — inferno living‘s never been this good.


I left my rain jacket at the hotel last week.  Some other things that were with it, too, that I’d rather not be lost forever.  I’m usually very thorough about inspecting the room before I leave, but I was in a rush because we had to be out by noon, mid-conference, because the hotel was overbooked.  I called the hotel Sunday when I realized what had happened, but so far there’s no follow-up.  I’m hoping that’s because a saintly housekeeping lady (who I completely forgot to tip, which I hate, but like I said . . . rushed) saw to it that the whole package was put in the mail pronto, and it’ll all just show up at my door.

I’m glad I blogged about it, because yes, I had completely forgotten to involve St. Anthony up until this point.  Writing helps me remember things.



I’ve come to divide the world into two kinds of places: Those with free, high-functioning WiFi, and those without.  I’m happy to be in either, as long as no one expects me to act like I’m in the one, when really I’m in the other.


I’m the same age as my grandmother now.  She’s been “39 and holding” for as long as I can remember.


My children don’t seem to believe me when I tell them that all I really want for my birthday is a clean house and no fighting.  My mom used to ask for the same thing.  Never got it.


I did get a broken pencil sharpener, though, a gently-used colored pencil, and a piece of pink cellophane folded up to look like a “gem”.  And a piggy-bank.  I see my frugality-indoctrination program is starting to work.  Go kids!


Also, my 5th grader made me a lovely card including money-words like “best mom in the world”.  She shares my penchant for exuberant overstatements.  Either that or the rest of you look out, because she can rattle off my faults the way school-kids can spit out a Pledge of Allegiance — practice yields speed.  So if I’m the best, I’m afraid that doesn’t say much about all you other moms.

Then again, I’m not sure she’s really surveyed the mom-population to verify her conclusions.  We’ll not tell her about sample-size just yet.  I’m enjoying my temporarily-elevated status.


Thanks to our hostess, Jen Fulwiler, keeping distracted bloggers 20% more organized since . . . a long time.  Pray for Allie Hathaway, then visit Jen’s site, Scorpions Are Us ConversionDiary.com to see more quick takes.

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