Thursday, September 04, 2008


Dear Time:



Seriously, what kind of a baby cries on her kid's first day of GRADE FOUR, I wanted to know on Tuesday. Then on Wednesday was A's first day of Grade Eight, and I had my answer. The same kind of person who cries as her long and lean beauty dashes across the street in her brand new first day of school clothes, headed for Grade Eight.


Also, I've spent most of this week stuffing about doing nothing so today I am going to write, yes I am. I am dressed and I cooked myself a lovely breakfast and made myself a coffee (remind me to tell you about that little fiasco sometime) and I'm sitting at my kitchen table instead of lolling about on a loveseat - in short, I am trying to tell my subconscious to PAY ATTENTION, WE ARE WORKING HERE.

I'll let you know how that goes :)


darien said...

I'm surprised you didn't stop at Applebee's for chicken fingers on your way home ;-)

ccap said...

So, what you're telling me is I should get Jack to nap on my chest every day?

Oh, well, if I HAVE to.