One of Those Weeks

Hoo boy. I don't know if I'm coming or going. Every time I look over at the computer and think I should sit down and try to blog a little, the phone rings or a child yells for help with homework or the cat throws up on our new carpeting. In addition to my regular duties of wife, mother, and chief complainer, over the past few days I have found myself . . .

. . . cooking up a special dinner and

baking a cake for my daughter's twelfth birthday . . .

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. . . clapping wildly after my daughters presented their poems in front of the entire elementary school . . .

. . . and taking Daisy to the vet to get fixed.

Sweet little thing napped away the next day

stoned on pain killers.

And we can't forget the Olympics! I've been trying to catch what I can on TV. My favorite so far has been women's ski cross. I can imagine myself jumping and flying down a hill, racing against 3 other skiers. Of course, in my imagination I am 20 years younger and a couple of pounds lighter. Oh, and my hair is blonde and I'm wearing a really snazzy pair of snow goggles. Also, I am winning. I am awarded an old-fashioned medal like the one they put around Nadia Comaneci's neck—a gold medallion that looks like an actual medal and not a piece of abstract art. I love you, Canada, but those wavy medals have got to go.

Dinner last night: shredded pork enchiladas, refried beans, corn