So, I have noticed a lot of international traffic on the Mamablogue lately. And when I say a lot, I mean some. I know that "they" just updated the blogger bar at the top of the page and when you click on "Next Blog" it is supposed to redirect you to a similar blog in a similar language to yours, but I highly doubt that you, international travelers, have similar blogs to mine. So if you are one of my new international blog stalkers, leave me a comment and say servus, salam, kaixo, namaskar, koali, mingalarba, bok, hej, hallo, tag, yia sou, aloha, shalom, ciao, kwe kwe, labdien, or plain old fashioned ellohay.
K, I'm combing through my mind trying to find something interesting to blog about this morning. The fact that it is in fact morning is kind of interesting to me since I haven't seen a sunrise in...maybe forever. No that's not true. One time when I was hiking Timpanogus I might have seen it. I mean, we started before sunrise and ended well after it, so looking at the information logically, I probably saw it. And, one time in Bingham's parking lot when I was arriving to school, the sun that was coming up was in my eyes and I all but rammed a big fat truck in front of me. Like maybe I slid under his bumper or something. It's no wonder I gave up on mornings.
I remember my junior year in high school when Kristin would come pick me up in the green Datson at fifteen minutes to seven. I'd belt my backpack into the backseat next to hers and off we would zoom so we could get to school in enough time to do our makeup. I'm a wash and wear kind of girl, a get up and go kind of girl. In fact, having frequently awakened at sixteen minutes to seven, I seldom had time to do my makeup at home. There were even a couple times I was in such a hurry to jump into the Datson as it rolled past that I neglected to strap on a bra. Too much information, I know, but what I really wanted to say was that even though those mornings sucked to the tenth power, Kristin and I sort of bonded over them, like we're blood brothers now, and one time when we got in a big cat fight in college, she gave me the Datson key as a peace offering (which happened to be broken since one time it broke in the ignition, and after that we just started the Datson with a popsicle stick and motored off to school) and it was so very touching that I instantly forgave her for whatever it was she probably hadn't even done. Because c'mon, would Kristin ever do anything wrong? I still have that key on my keychain today.
But where were we? Something about the morning? Yeah, well I just don't do them anymore, if at all possible, and that has seemed to stop the problem. Except to get the boy off to school, which is what I must go do now, so ciao, sianara, tschuss, adios, fir milenge, yasou, zai jian, or plain old fashioned oodbyegay.