Explosions

I'm sitting on my bed in my pajamas and my house is screaming at me. "Get up! Clean me! Organize me!" I'm choosing to ignore it right now. And, that's likely what got me into this mess in the first place.

I envision my house to look like the pages of those beautiful rooms in Good Housekeeping or the Ladies Home Journal. I certainly tried to create a zen-like retreat in my bedroom. Calming color on the wall, plush bedding, no t.v., check. It was going well, then my closet exploded.

I don't know how all the shoes and clothes that once fit into the organized space that was my closet just don't fit anymore. The run-off has found a corner in my bedroom. My husband dragged one Rubbermaid tub into the corner and filled it up. Then two tubs. It created quiet havoc and I promised to sort through those and put things up and throw things away. Then my home office exploded.

I dragged home T-shirts for a community project, and contained them all neatly in a basket. I brought a few files to work on and put neatly in a file box by the basket. Some how things got messy and now the files are in two boxes, some are in stacks on the floor. It's been hot upstairs in the office, so they are in my bedroom, next to the overflowing basket that now contains remnants of the T-shirt project. But that was OK. Half of my bedroom was still "zen." Then my living room exploded.

My once magazine-perfect living room has toys scattered here and there in corners from the grand kids recent visit. I'm currently "babysitting" my daughter's two small dogs and they manage to leave crumbs and drag in souvenir sticks from outside that also have found their way under the coffee table by the fireplace. Is that a rock on my couch? My brother is visiting, and he casually throws the pillows on the floor here and there to spread out on my couch.

Explosions.

So, I have a plan today. I have to respond to all these little explosions. I have to sort my closet, get it organized and throw out things. The office is next, and then the living room. That was the plan this morning anyway. I empty one plastic container, feel pleased and drag it out to the garage. Wow. There's no place to put it. The garage exploded.

I think I'll start with coffee first, then check groupon to see if they have any deals for maid service. I have to make a plan, so I sit at my computer, staring at an empty screen, trying to decide where to start first. I think my head just exploded.

Summertime

Breathe it in. Summertime. Late nights at the ballpark. Burned hotdogs. Burned you. And, ice cold watermelon on a hot afternoon.

The summers I remember from my children were filled with adventure that we found ourselves. We went to church camp and vacation Bible school. We often made the summer trek from Lubbock to Fort Worth to spend time with cousins and Aunts and Uncles. When we got older, my brothers and sisters and I worked on the farm, helping my dad by "chopping cotton." It was hot, and it was hard work. But it meant we would have money for school clothes. We still had fun.

Summer has changed. It's changed, not just because we're in the middle of a record-breaking drought and on our 30+ day of triple digit temperatures. It's changed because we're grown-ups. No more summers off. Most adults in the country maintain a manic pace at work year round.

I took a vacation recently and enjoyed a bit of summer. I read two books. I got up earlier than anyone else and found a beautiful lake to fish. I enjoyed doing nothing. I caught fireflies with my grandkids. I went to the neighborhood pool and let a bucket of cold water drop on me over and over again. I learned new knock-knock jokes. I watched a lot of baseball. I ate ice cold watermelon.

For a short while, I loved summer. Now, I'm once again fighting traffic and trying not to feel like I'm suffocating in my work clothes as I make a mad dash from my car to the oasis of an air conditioned building.

My grandchildren are now back home. But I don't want to let go of the joy they find in a summer day. So, I'll have to fight the urge to scream when I see the temperatures climb higher and I worry about my electric bill.

I need to go to the community pool and stand in the middle of a fountain, take a wild ride down the slide again or just let the bucket dump the water.

I just need to act like I'm on vacation any time I get a chance. I need to embrace the little kid that still lives inside me.

I wonder what my neighbors would think if I used the slip and slide on the front lawn after work tomorrow?

Stay cool, ya'll.