Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Life, Universe, Everything

Back in the early days of our friendship, the days before our courtship, my husband and I would often find ourselves being quiet together. This comfortable silence would often end with the question, "What are you thinking about?" If I were the one asking, he would almost always answer, "Life, the universe, everything." And I always knew what he meant - everything yet nothing in particular.

And that is how I am feeling lately, which is why there has been no organized post. I have so many thoughts swimming around but no clear definition to any of them. There is no way to string my thoughts into words that are understandable to anyone but me. If I had a Twitter account, you might see phrases like this:

Went to Target. Did not find anything to make my life better. (one hour ago)

Took the kids to the Museum. Spent almost the entire time playing in the best sandbox in the Triangle area. Good people watching but no blog fodder. (one day ago)

Just found out that there will be a 20 year high school reunion this November. Should I travel the 900 miles for it? Do I care? What would I wear? (two days ago)

Just read this article that Erika linked. Says "alone time is the new heroin." Hoping to get my fix this weekend. (three days ago)

Just spoke with most of my extended family after my grandmother's memorial service. I would have liked to go but wasn't invited. (one week ago)

Trying hard to get my shit together. Can't find all of my shit. (everyday)

There are more but you get the idea. Each one of these thoughts is a window into a longer story, a richer blog post. And once I am able to wrap my words around them, you will be the first to know.


Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

I find it gets like that sometimes. Too much and too little all at once.

Marty, a.k.a. canape said...

I think I need alone time even in the blog world. Time to just lurk about, keep my thoughts to myself and peek in on my friends.

I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother.

1blueshi1 said...

I suffer from severe TMS, myself. Too. Much. Shit. All of which I lug with me everywhere as if I am perpetually trudging up Mount Everest sans Sherpa. And no, that is not simply an emotional metaphor, as anyone who has ever tried to heft my suitcase, I mean, purse, and exclaimed instead as it dropped to the ground, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU CARRYING AROUND IN THERE, BRICKS??????"
Sorry to hear about your grandmother and not being invited. Hope you are okay.

Liz said...

that last theoretical tweet? boy can i relate!