That title refers to my brain, by the way. In the area of writing and reading it is indeed seriously underused. I used to write all the time. I love to write. No one would know it lately. I've had this blog thing for over a year and this is what, my third post? Infact, I didn't even know how to find this page. I typed in "blogspot" in the address bar and everyone else blogs that I've been looking at came up, but not ours. So I searched in our email, nothing. It was as simple as typing in blog.com and there it was, our neglected page with the maroon background and white lettering and pictures of our wedding. I don't know how to make it exciting or really even how to get other pictures on here. This mumbo jumbo is my generation. It should be second nature to me, but instead I'm like receptionist of one of the doctors Josh rotated with who saved ALL her files straight to the desktop, no folders, no nothing. She hasn't the faintest idea where to find anything and was significantly miffed at Josh when he downloaded a file from his email to print at the office, for she truly believed he had "broken" her computer and that never again would she be able to find the patient files that were her life. I liken myself to that undereducated woman when it comes to making a blog page anything but the ordinary.
That thunderstorm we just had here in Aurora CO was NOT joking around. I fought to fall asleep a measly two hours ago as I listened to all the clicks, creaks, and squeaks that our home produces when it's settling down for the night. And now, I sit wide awake, tip tap typing away at 12:00 on the morning of the 2nd of July 2009, with one eye shut and the other squinting to save it's pupil the shock of the orb that is my computer screen. I retrieved the hammer that strangely resides in our master bedroom closet and placed it on my night stand tonight for protection against any spooks that feel the need to hassle me in the night. Josh is in Ft. Watson Beach, FL at Eglin Air Force Base for a month rotation, starting this past Sunday, so naturally if I don't have man protection something will have to take that place. We have a hunting rifle, but it hides away in our guest bedroom closet without ammunition and without an owner that knows how to use it. There's items in the house that I suppose would better suite an attack on an intruder, but the hammer is my choice. Firstly, when I decided to use it initially, back when Josh was in Virginia for two weeks, it was the only thing in the bedroom worthy of doing any damage. I heard a creak, spooked myself, darted up the stairs and locked my bedroom door behind me. Continuing on in my rediculousness I brought the hammer from my closet and placed it within reach so that any individual who might dare assault me in my own room, in my own house would have quite the surprise at their arrival. It's unexpected, yes? I have thought through the vast array of options of the damage it could cause. Brute force is not a foes friend. No one wants to get their eyes yoinked out by the backside of a hammer, but thats what they will deal with if they dare to mess with me in the night when my husband is away.
That thunderstorm we just had here in Aurora CO was NOT joking around. I fought to fall asleep a measly two hours ago as I listened to all the clicks, creaks, and squeaks that our home produces when it's settling down for the night. And now, I sit wide awake, tip tap typing away at 12:00 on the morning of the 2nd of July 2009, with one eye shut and the other squinting to save it's pupil the shock of the orb that is my computer screen. I retrieved the hammer that strangely resides in our master bedroom closet and placed it on my night stand tonight for protection against any spooks that feel the need to hassle me in the night. Josh is in Ft. Watson Beach, FL at Eglin Air Force Base for a month rotation, starting this past Sunday, so naturally if I don't have man protection something will have to take that place. We have a hunting rifle, but it hides away in our guest bedroom closet without ammunition and without an owner that knows how to use it. There's items in the house that I suppose would better suite an attack on an intruder, but the hammer is my choice. Firstly, when I decided to use it initially, back when Josh was in Virginia for two weeks, it was the only thing in the bedroom worthy of doing any damage. I heard a creak, spooked myself, darted up the stairs and locked my bedroom door behind me. Continuing on in my rediculousness I brought the hammer from my closet and placed it within reach so that any individual who might dare assault me in my own room, in my own house would have quite the surprise at their arrival. It's unexpected, yes? I have thought through the vast array of options of the damage it could cause. Brute force is not a foes friend. No one wants to get their eyes yoinked out by the backside of a hammer, but thats what they will deal with if they dare to mess with me in the night when my husband is away.
I suppose I don't have the umph to write during the day when my son is hanging on and climbing ever part of me he can grab, climbing the TV stand downstairs to reach the Wii Nunchucks simply to be able to bash them together, throwing all our toothbrushes, toothpaste and anything else within reach into the sink in our masterbathroom and watch the water splash over them as he sings, "teese....teese.....teese, teese, teese", or when he proceeds to vacuum the walls and lamps with the hose that's attached to my vacuum while making a "vrooming" noise deep in the back of his throat. My mind is wonderfully clear at 12:00am, but how was I to know it? I'm much too responsible to stay up this late simply to be able to write and fume and clear my head of all that swarms it in the day. And, this pregnancy is getting progressively more difficult to situate for the night in any comfortable fashion, so bedding down early is essential if I want any chance of staying cordial with my 2 year old the next day.
It's crazy how our house doesn't make a sound when I am awake and alert here right now, but as soon as I lay in my bed and shut these eyes it will fire up all it's antics: the settling wood, the clicking fan, the creaking door, the dripping sliding doors that leak after a wicked rain storm like the one we just had. I suppose I should mention that last part to my landlord. This is the second time in a two weeks it's leaked. Towels do the trick. I suppose I'm hillbilly enough to just not care about a little water that isn't doing anyone any harm there on the floor in the middle of the night. There's words all over in this head, but the overriding exhaustion from the day has stolen the moment. I'm guessing thats all I'm going to squeeze out for now.
