Look For Love in All the Wrong Places (or Maybe All the Right Ones)

I have been having "motivation" problems here on the blog this week.  I've been looking for humorous inspiration in sinks full of dirty dishes and the never ending cycle of laundry, and nothing new is coming to me.

Lots of funny things are happening, like the random piece of broccoli that showed up in my red pillar candle this morning (No clue. You?) or, the way Toddler refers to closing a zipper bag as "driving a zipper."  None of these little smile-makers are lengthy enough to support an entire blog post.

Then, it hit me.  I should not be surprised that my life has temporarily shrunk down to the size of a tweet.  My most lengthy conversations recently have been with a three year old that ends every discussion with the words, "I need to be a good sport," and tries to end every argument with the phrase, "But I said YES!"  Let's face it -- it may be cute when you aren't the one having the conversation, but it sure gets old rather quickly.  With my conversations and interactions operating at the microcosm level, I find the length of my stories has decreased accordingly.

For example, there is the story about Toddler sleeping every night and every nap in his new "cool room" with bunk beds and everything ... but he doesn't want us to move his stuff over.  I'd tell you more, but that sentence pretty much sums it all up.

Yesterday I found myself unintentionally and quite spontaneously acting out Bill Cosby's role in his timeless skit, "Come Here!" 

Um ... I don't think I have much more to add to that story either.  You probably have a really good mental picture by now.

The other day, Toddler was playing with his toy car, and someone asked him where he was driving.  He said, "I'm going to CVS, then the grocery store, then back to CVS, then to music class, and then home." 

Yep.  That just about describes my Mondays.  Nicely done, boy.

I have also learned that I have a hard time writing blog posts when I have houseguests.  I think I'm just a bit too polite.  I feel terribly like a bad hostess if I bury my head into a computer and type away while someone else is sitting in the room playing with Toddler or flipping channels on my TV.  I should be more entertaining.  On the other hand, I mentioned this to a relative once, and his response was to escort me to my computer and tell me to, "Sit down.  Be funny.  WRITE!"  ('Cause that is the way these things work, you know?  You just "will" the words to come whenever you happen to have a free moment.  I find the technique especially helpful when people are staring at me.)

Ah, well.  This, too, shall pass.