| I am a homebody. Which isn't to say that I don't like to go out and party - far from it! However, there are few things I like better then spending an activity-free weekend putzing around the house, with Calvin's excellent company. I never have been one to utter "I'm bored". My Grandmother exorcised that phrase from my vocabulary by making good on a couple of "Oh yeah? I'll find you something to do" threats. The HIPFH(tm) (see September 20th's entry) has interfered greatly with my enjoyment of all things homey, and it's to this fact I attribute my feelings of being a little "off" inside my head. Like someone came into my bedroom while I was asleep and moved all the furniture three inches to the left. Something's wrong, but you can't quite put your finger on it. My ideal weekend morning goes something like this: Wake up early-ish (say, 7:00) and spend the next half-hour listening, staring up at the ceiling, and staring at Calvin asleep next to me. Get up, go make coffee, and check on the dogs outside. Let them in (stampede!), get the newspaper from the driveway, and pour a couple of cups of coffee. Maneuver around the dogs while going upstairs and juggling coffee and paper. Waive the coffee under Calvin's nose until he grunts. Sit on the edge of the bed and scratch his back or rub his feet until he's awake enough to sit up and accept coffee and paper. Then, hop on the computer and check e-mail/peruse journals/write an entry while Calvin flips through the news. Curl up on the bed beside him and look at all the ads for home furnishings/cars/spas/vacations. Think about making lunch. The afternoon can happen as it happens, as long as I a) get to cook something fun, b) accomplish some housework, and c) wrestle a little with Calvin. When the house is done (hah - notice the optimistic "when") I plan to take a day off from work and just *be*. Say, oh, a Tuesday. I'll have coffee on my patio. I'll work on my laptop in my new bed, and enjoy the breeze and sunlight coming through the french doors. I'll read a book on my new couch. I'll play quiet music in the background. I'll bake something. I'll just walk around the place and revel in it's done-ness. I'll leave for about 20 minutes, just so I can enjoy coming home again. Notice I said I'd take a day off from work to do this. Why not do it on a Saturday, you may ask? Well, one reason is that anything is more enjoyable when you're playing hookey from work. And, simply put, I want a day to myself. Alone. Quiet. QUIET, I SAID! To do what I want, listen to what I want, watch what I want, read as long as I want, and not have someone summoning me from another area of the house. If Calvin can take the day off too, then great. He doesn't interfere at all with my plans. BUT, the kids will be at school, and that is integral to my plans. I love 'em, but they are demanding at times. Not to mention noisy. And possessing the need to be entertained. I don't remember needing to be entertained when I was growing up. I lived with my Grandmother out in the middle of Nowhere, Maine. My nearest friend lived fifteen miles away. So most weekends would find me exploring the forests around my Grandmother's land, with my dog at my side. We'd make forts in the woods. We'd spend the entire day hanging out next to the streams and waterfalls within walking distance of my home (oh, the clothes I ruined!). If it was winter, I'd be cross-country skiing through the wood trails or making snow forts. I'd also spend the entire day at the stables where I kept my horse, and she (or he, depending on the year) and I would spend the entire day wandering trails, or practicing Dressage tests, or practicing our jumping. I fully enjoyed curling up with a good book, either in my room, up my favorite tree, or out in the hammock. Plus, there was writing writing writing, in any of the above locations. It was a great way to grow up. With Michael and Marie, they are not happy unless it involves video games, the movies, or the mall. I have taken the entire family back east to where I grew up, and they did love it. But I can tell if they were forced to spend any amount of time there, having to *entertain themselves*, they'd go nuts. The nearest mall is 40 minutes away, as is the nearest movie theater. Heck, the nearest grocery store is 20 minutes away (which fact drove Calvin crazy while we were there. Back east, the mentality is "if you forget it, you do without". There are six grocery stores within one mile of our house in The Valley. So in our house, the mentality is "if you forget it, hop in the car, go to the nearest store, and be back in five minutes."). Walking in the woods, or bird hunting, or climbing trees, or exploring doesn't hold the same appeal for them as it did for me. At least, not for more than a week at a time. Then they start missing their air conditioned comfort, visual and aural stimuli, and fast food, baby! Ah, well, we are all products of our environment. They were brought up in the city, and prefer it. I was brought up in the country, and am at home in it. Sometimes my feelings of homesickness are overwhelming, though. Technical GooI am officially a Homesite enthusiast (thanks for the recommendation, Viv!) Oh, look at that. It put the anchor tags right in there for me! Ooohh... I'm turning into a nerd. No, really, the biggest reason for the change from Notepad is a simple one - no spell check. It was driving me (and probably you) nuts. Sorry, Archibael, looks like your editing services won't be needed anymore. I'm sure you'll find something else to pick on me about, though. And yes, I changed "therapudic" to "therapeutic" and "Beuller" to "Bueller" in my last entry. I also picked up on an annoying habit I have. I use *asterisks* to *emphasize* *everything*. It bugs the crap outta me, it's got to bug you, too. There, see? I exercised restraint. I didn't say "...it's *got* to bug you..." If I keep this up, I'm going to end up coming across as, like, a Valley Girl, and stuff. I don't talk in italics in real life. Really. |