The Real Deal...

Here I sit. I've just watched "Ghost" on TV, courtesy of Lifetime Network's assumed tribute to Patrick Swayze. First watch of the entire movie, and my, technology and special effects have come a long way. Not to mention, I think Demi Moore looks younger today than she does in "Ghost". Really? Right...date a younger...er, marry a younger man and you'll spotaneously look younger. Naturally, those vacations for weeks at a time to Brazil and Mexico were simply vacations, no time spent under a surgeon's knife. Wha....? NEVER. Never ever....who done it?

I feel as though I don't have much to report. We teach our sunbeams, who have come so very far, leaps and bounds over the last few weeks. Just in time for the next class, indeed. Those 3 and 4 yr old souls capture me wholly and unequivocally. A few weeks ago, one of our cuties attached his tiny arms of steel around my neck and simply refused to disengage, despite bribes of extra lemon drops, pleading and begging. I carried him out to his car where, sadly I admit, I proceeded to trick him into his car seat. He was pretty well adjusted by the next week, great thing about 3 yr olds, simply resilient. We still do quite a few wiggle exercises, truth be told, mostly for Juan and me! They are fabulous, fun and fanatical about lemon drops. We looked high a low for a treat for especially good days (2 don't like chocolate, 3 don't like pretzels, 3 won't eat goldfish, 1 hates animal crakers) and found lemon drops to be the one and only treat they ALL go ape for. Lemon drops you ask? How in heaven's earthly name did we figure out the lemon drops? Our lesson on "I love my home" invovled a quick story on Brigham Young and his beehive home and how he handed out lemon drops to visitors.....I was very hesitant to hand each child the lip puckering morsels and absolutely shocked to hear requests for seconds... ha, the key to eternal perfection in each child's actions...loverly, just loverly, lemon drops.

In other news, Daisy got her first ever name tag....I told her if she could manage to stay alive for 7 years, I'd break down and get her one. I caved and bought one at 6 1/2 years, but figure she's been through enough and I've been through enough, what's half a year early? She keeps trying to move more slowly, to keep her tags from clinking together too violently. In due time, she'll adjust and now if she's lost, there's a tag with her name and my number, so maybe she'll survive. Hopefully, anyway. If she can manage to stop barking at whoever finds her long enough for them to help her. Doubtful.

Non-challenge. One more word to add to my "never should have said it" dictionary. That's right, they just said 'non-challenge' on a lower-your-cholesterol-Honey-Nut-Cheerios commercial. Why not state it's 'easy', instead of making a oxymoron out of everything.

Challenge: I'm going to stop doing it myself. No longer will I claim taking out the trash to be 'sanitary take out'. No more with the 'painfully simple' statement when I cook hamburger helper. 'Never more', 'clear as mud', 'pretty ugly', 'exact estimate' (at work), 'original copies' (work), 'alone together', 'same difference', oh the list goes on and on.

I spend too much time being dry and sarcastic. I'll now try to be uplifting and exciting. Greatly impressed with others acheivements, optimistic when others complain (no more comiserating), happily thrilled with the joy's of work and challenges.

Oh, who am I kidding? That is seriously funny. The sweet sorrow of realization hits. I attempt a rolling stop, but to no avail. 'Good grief' comes my silent scream.

I cannot deny my contradictous self. On with life. Being one with my oxymoron thoughts.

ENJOY! :) It's unbearably doable.