Thank you all for being honest about my nakedness. I mean, thank you for talking so openly about being naked. I mean, thank you for sharing your own struggle with being naked. I mean - oh sugar. What the heck DO I mean? I know I mean thank you. :)
Speaking of being naked ... no, this isn't a naked soul story. Oatmeal Head has been on the phone with A GIRL for the last hour. There'd better not be any nakedness involved. At all. In any form. And what do I overhear? He's telling her his reading level and that his mother is a writer with a large vocabulary. Except he has such a difficult time expressing his creative self verbally. I'm sitting here silently laughing. Grateful, on the one hand, that he's so awkward and arrogant. Maybe she'll see the light and move on to someone a little more mature who doesn't sword fight in the hall with his little brother while talking to a girl on the phone. On the other hand, I really do want him to be well-spoken and graceful. But he's a 14 year old boy, so I don't think that's possible. Thank God!
Is it Thursday already? When did that happen? Did you do that? Well stop it. I don't want it to be Thursday yet. My Hunny is gone to a conference in Oklahoma City (everyone at work was grumbling about the location), and the kids finished school last week, so my schedule's all off.
Oop! He's off the phone. Time for the interrogation. And the mumbled responses. And the broad smiles and evasive answers.
Until I write again ...