The end of summer is in sight. I hate this time of year. I do really look forward to big sweater weather, but I hate the thought of snow. Last year, we had a snowstorm before Halloween. It's still in the distance, but it's coming. The girls were talking about what they want to be for Halloween this year, just last night. And Charlotte wanted to know when I was going to be making meatloaf again.
The light is changing, and the leaves are starting to turn. The tree outside my kitchen is the first to go, every year. It has crimson tipped leaves. It is glowing a golden red as I write this. Pretty as hell, but it is the first sign of Fall.
This weekend, after the bills are paid, we have to get school shoes, and a violin for Olivia. She is going to be in the orchestra this year. She didn't want to play, but I insisted she learn to play something. I played the flute, and wish to this day that I never gave up on it. My parents didn't seem to care that I did. I wonder why they let me. No arguments from them.
Last night, I had too much wine. Again. It seems like such a good idea, having another glass. But today, not so much. I wish it were raining out. Then I would have an excuse not to motivate. But the tree is glowing red, and telling me otherwise. And the dishes in the sink aren't going to clean themselves. Nor is the bathroom.
Some days, I just want to go back to being single, and living in my apartment in NYC. My biggest challenge was getting out of bed, wriggling my size 2 ass into some jeans, and picking what color I wanted my nails painted at my weekly mani/pedi. As I drank wine last night, I chewed my fingernails off, and tore and ripped away at my cuticles. They don't even look like my hands anymore.
I have a picture of my toes, painted a really bright red. I was in Greece. Lying on a lounge chair. I took pictures of my feet all the time. This particular day, my toes looked relaxed, I thought, against the backdrop of the hotel pool. There was a swim up bar, in the distance. I recall being disappointed that the bar never had a bar tender, or anyone sitting at it. I felt like I got gypped. Like it was at one time a cool place to sip a cocktail, but those days were over by the time I got there. I remember thinking that there must have been a better hotel around, and I booked at the bad one.
Silly girl.
The light is changing, and the leaves are starting to turn. The tree outside my kitchen is the first to go, every year. It has crimson tipped leaves. It is glowing a golden red as I write this. Pretty as hell, but it is the first sign of Fall.
This weekend, after the bills are paid, we have to get school shoes, and a violin for Olivia. She is going to be in the orchestra this year. She didn't want to play, but I insisted she learn to play something. I played the flute, and wish to this day that I never gave up on it. My parents didn't seem to care that I did. I wonder why they let me. No arguments from them.
Last night, I had too much wine. Again. It seems like such a good idea, having another glass. But today, not so much. I wish it were raining out. Then I would have an excuse not to motivate. But the tree is glowing red, and telling me otherwise. And the dishes in the sink aren't going to clean themselves. Nor is the bathroom.
Some days, I just want to go back to being single, and living in my apartment in NYC. My biggest challenge was getting out of bed, wriggling my size 2 ass into some jeans, and picking what color I wanted my nails painted at my weekly mani/pedi. As I drank wine last night, I chewed my fingernails off, and tore and ripped away at my cuticles. They don't even look like my hands anymore.
I have a picture of my toes, painted a really bright red. I was in Greece. Lying on a lounge chair. I took pictures of my feet all the time. This particular day, my toes looked relaxed, I thought, against the backdrop of the hotel pool. There was a swim up bar, in the distance. I recall being disappointed that the bar never had a bar tender, or anyone sitting at it. I felt like I got gypped. Like it was at one time a cool place to sip a cocktail, but those days were over by the time I got there. I remember thinking that there must have been a better hotel around, and I booked at the bad one.
Silly girl.
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