I think this is the longest I haven’t written since beginning this place I miss so much when I don’t write. And the only legitimate explanation I have for not writing may not make much sense to most.
I can remember living in a dreary apartment when I was finishing my degree. It was brown. Regardless of how much I enjoy that particular color at this point in my life, somehow, brown then seemed dreary. And it was. It was a means to an end, and I tolerated it because I had to.
Well, I’ve been having trouble tolerating the orange. I know brown isn’t orange, but still. Surely you must have an inkling of an idea of why this is a problem. Let’s just say my house isn’t in order. Or my blog, in this case. It makes me sad.
I actually like the layout. I really do. But I spent quite a bit of time on thinking about changing out the orange and switching the font, and all that sort of thing, and when I looked in my files, I saw strange things.
Can someone please tell me why, oh, why do designers have to subject the rest of us to their particular style of code? I understand creative license, and all, but man.
I can figure it all out. Really I can. I just don’t want to. I want to download a theme, plug in my widgets, make minor adjustments, maybe have some fun designing a header or two, and then think about writing. Because that’s the whole point of a blog, isn’t it?
So in fewer words, I’m working on this theme, but not since Thursday, which was days and days ago.
I guess I just become disgusted, and avoid the problem. And that causes yet another problem because I truly enjoy being here and taking the time to spread my particular style of propaganda. Except I haven’t.
But today was lovely. While I wasn’t writing here amongst the orange and wire looking thingies in the header, I was enjoying Mother’s Day with my mother and menfolk. We cruised through our farmer’s market, and then put our name in a few eateries until we found one where the wait was only 15 minutes. Good thing it was a place we’ve enjoyed before.
Have you ever had a breakfast salad? This one had poached eggs on spinach, sauteed mushrooms, tomatoes, goat cheese, and a light vinaigarette. Simply delicious. The pomegranate mimosa was a nice touch, too. It was very pleasant.
A walk along the shoreline was a perfect way to relax afterwards, worrying the entire time that the huge fuschia my mother bought at the farmer’s market wasn’t succumbing to the heat in my trunk while we were oogling over the clear water and nearly waveless ocean. Amazingly beautiful.
We never did quite figure out what the Pink Panther was, though. Clearly, they got curb space early, and had time to get their layout taken care of, shells placed round the palms, bejeweled pylons protecting their Weber and all. Sorry I didn’t get a shot of the pink ostrich feathered umbrella. It was a sight to behold.
And when we got home, we tore apart my patio, trying to whip it back into shape long enough to enjoy the summer season before I convince the MoH that it has to be redone. Seriously. Hell will freeze over first. I promise. But I can dream, right?
My big boys arrived, separately, and it was a nice end to a lovely day. My middle son brought plants he’d worked on in one of his classes — some from cuttings and some from seed. Nice. The older one sort of slinked in through the side, surprising us all, smiling, and knowing that we’d smile back, enjoying his company even though there are always lots of worries to be put aside whenever we see him.
The MoH gave me a gift certificate to a camera store so I can choose a new camera. It looks like I get to graduate from my point-and-shoot and I’m giddy with being able to choose the perfect camera. Okay, so the perfect camera for me. Now.
And that’s just about perfect.
Thanks for checking in on me. I do appreciate you and do have you in my mind daily.
It’s actually quite amazing how much you’re all there.
Really.
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