Brain Flopping


Christmas Tree

Oh Christmas Tree…

Just a short note to let you all know I am still around.  Apparently being overwhelmed with work and Christmas preparation and a class at church and working out and walking the dogs and and watching football and keeping up with social media (translation – sucked in by Pinterest) and my daily bible readings and sitting in front of my SAD light and doing push ups and keeping up with the house and playing the Simpsons Tapped Out (seriously addicted – thank you David Mauel) and did I mention work? is frying my brain and by 8 pm I have little to no creative juices left for writing.  Or at least, writing anything of significance, although that would imply “significant” writing earlier, which I am not sure I qualified for anyway.

Therefore, I have decided to treat the month of December as “Random Post Month”, where I will just post whatever is flopping around in my brain and not try so hard to be profound or give you anything useful.  This then, will be my first brain flopping post.  You will also notice pictures of the neighbors light displays scattered about.  This is the time of year the dogs and I traipse far and wide in search of glorious light displays, while Harry Belafonte and Josh Groban fight for the attention of my eardrums.

 

Christmas Tree Before I start,  I have to confess.  My push ups have gone south for the winter.  Seriously, I don’t have time to do 150 push ups each morning and sit in front of my SAD light, plus get ready for work, etc.  And if I am completing 150 push ups in the first 15 minutes of the day, even if they aren’t consecutive, doesn’t that count as having achieved my goal?  I think the longest I have rested between sets has been 2 minutes or so.  I really think that should count, at least for now.  I do plan on picking it back up again in January.  Maybe.  Okay, yes, fine.  I will.  January is depressing anyway.  Might as well make it worse.

I may actually make cut-out cookies this year.  This is very thin ice for me, Christmas Treebecause I LOVE cut-outs – eating them mostly.  One year, I hid about a dozen of them from the rest of the family, because I wanted the last of them all to myself.  Well, it must have been one of those hormonal brain fog days, because I promptly forgot about them.  The next year, while digging out my cookie cutters, I discovered them hidden in the corner cupboard, behind the mixer.  Such a waste.  For the record, year old Christmas cut-outs taste like cardboard.

Mind you, I only like making the dough, rolling them out, baking them, and eating them.  I hate decorating them.  If it weren’t for the fact that they taste oh so much better with frosting, sprinkles, chocolate chips, red hots, and tiny silver candy balls that break your teeth when you bite them, I wouldn’t bother.  But they are so much better decorated and just biting into one brings me back to being a kid and sitting in front of our living room window, looking out at the snow and lights, or laying under our tree with my sister, looking at our reflections in the Christmas balls.

Christmas lights

Well, that’s about all the brain flopping I can handle tonight.  I started a little too late and even though I have more stray thoughts, they will just have to wait for another post, or turn into a weird dream where I am running around looking for my locker that I can’t find, to get my books for a class that I can’t remember, to take a test I didn’t study for, the entire time knowing full well that I am the mother of adult children, making the scenario all the more ridiculous.  Or maybe it will be the one where I am late for work and forget to call in.  Or the one where I am trying to get the kids to school on time and fail miserably.  There.  Discuss amongst yourselves.  Let me know when you have a diagnosis.

Until next time!
Sue

Nativity

I felt a little weird taking this picture because it was right up by the house and if they were home, it would have looked a little weird. I managed to take the picture though, and just got to the sidewalk when the neighbors came home.

 

 

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