Misc.ing Me

I mowed today. Yeah, you heard me - November 11. I hope it will be the last time I need to this year, but it was 81 today and now I hear it beginning to rain - I wonder.

. . . . .

I go through bouts of depression. My spirit rains, my soul drizzles. I usually don't recognize the depression until I'm on the other side. Once, several years ago, I realized it had been four days since I'd brushed my teeth. That was a rather serious bout as I do try to regularly brush my teeth. This summer I didn't mow the lawn for two months. It seemed like the right thing not to do. I was so busy, after all.

I don't like being depressed. Though I do. I like to shrug it off on my being a classic melancholy, but that is a box smaller than who I am.

I'm not glum. I would even describe myself as "very happy." Most people who know me know my smile. And the smile is not hiding anything, though sometimes it co-exists with something blacker.

. . . . .

My mom sent me some jokes this week. Here's one of the three - with some cussing:

A man went to church one day and afterward he stopped to shake the preacher's hand. He said "Preacher, I'll tell you, that was a damned fine sermon. Damned fine!"

The preacher said, "Thank you, sir, but I'd rather you didn't use profanity."

The man said, "I was so damned impressed with that sermon, I put five thousand dollars in the offering plate!"

The preacher said, "No shit?"

The last of the three jokes was funnier, about penises and such, but that's probably already too much for this blog.

. . . . .

I have beautiful children. I'm just stating a fact. They're beautiful. They're monkeys, the whole lot of them, but they're beautiful monkeys.

I was wondering today what the state of my soul would be if Will had been twins. I whispered a profound prayer of thanksgiving. I cannot imagine the sheer destructive potential of twin boys. If you have twin boys, let me know so I can daily pray for you.

. . . . .

Although I could have sworn I had locked the door, a few months ago my oldest daughter walked in on Laura and me, uh, conjugating. She opened the door, her eyes saucered, and - like an old reel-to-reel playing backward - she exited.

A little while later, Laura was sitting out with the kids and Sophie asked for a drink.

Laura said, "Daddy's in the kitchen; go ask him."

Sophie said, "That boy better not be naked!"