Weekend?!!! What Weekend?

The weekend swung me from one point to another like a wet cat!  HahaaaaaHahahahhaha!  A-hemmmM!  -_-  Sorry!  I'm just picturing it.  It’s rather hilarious, to me.  Seeing the weekend swinging a wet cat!  Poor cat, ay!  All I hear is “RowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwrrrrrrrR!”  In a high-speed, high-pitched, feline voice!  As it’s getting swung by its tail!  From home to dance, to the mall, to another mall, back to the first mall, to a busy grocery store, to home, to the soccer grounds, back home, to my parents, to youth, back to my parents, home, to my sister in law and then finally back home!  SHEWWWWWWW!  Ears perched and cock-eyed as it flies through the air, wet and looking like, "Weekend?  WtF with all the swinging?!?!"  Just so that I’m not in any trouble with the animal rights people?  I mean no harm.  No cats have been harmed during the imagination of the above-mentioned scenario!  Just like me?  The cat is safe at work right now.

You know?  I completely understand why men would rather climb Mount Everest in the melting snow with heels on, than go clothes shopping with women!  It hurts your feet.  I think that's from walking.  I could be wrong.  But it has to have alot to do with, “I’ll come back.”  To the store where I saw this thing I liked. 

#8 point 6 of the shopping rule book states, “If you see that thing you really liked in the forty seventh store you walked into?  Do not, under any circumstances, buy it immediately.  Walk in and out of another forty seven stores?  And then?  When you begin to feel that you’re kinda balancing on your middle toe from feet throbbery?  Go back for that thing you really liked!”  Why do we torment ourselves that way?  Thing is this.  We’re spiting nobody but ourselves by doing that.  Unless we’re shopping with someone we really don’t like.  That’s the only time it becomes effective.  Yet, somewhat self-inflicting.  Because?  I mean.  You are shopping with yourself aside from that person you don’t like.  Therapution is meant to be relaxing?  Is it not?  :-\  I-I really don’t care.  M-m.  You should know me by now.  They’re self-explanatory.  Just close the dictionary.   Learn the new words and use them in future!

Sometimes, I believe that we give ourselves a bad name and then when we succeed in that?  We complain bitterly about the fact that our partners’ won’t spend quality time with us.  By that I mean?  We complain bitterly about the fact that our partners’ won’t agonise themselves with us.  And that they’re instead, rushing to the mountain, in our heels.  “They’ll be coming round the mountain in our heels....”  Or their own.  I looked outa the window to avoid the awkward stares you’re giving me.  Don’t pretend like it doesn’t happen.  I have a closet full of sneakers.  Some are men’s sneakers.  So what?!  If he likes heels every now and again.  If you accept that side of him?  Who’s judging?  Just make it clear that he is not to be seen in public with you that way and everything will be alright.  Plus, some people are freaky that way.  You might be one of them.  And still?  Who’s judging?   

A blessing in a boy child

An August nineteenth gem

An attachment of my soul

A framed tattoo in my heart

A smile that lifts spirits

A gentle giant of compassion

A mountain of courage

A magnet to greatness

A beautiful dreamer

An inspiration to me

A blessing in a boy child

That's my introduction

Of untainted admiration

I've named him Damon

And he's my eldest son

I adore him without limit

Unconditional and infinite

Happy Birthday, my sugar

Mummy

I wrote that little poem for Damon for his twelfth birthday, yesterday.  That’s precisely how I see him.  He read it and smiled sohhhhhhhh hard.  As though I handed him a bag of gold.  If you’ve never felt like the end of a rainbow before?  Write your child a poem telling them how much they mean to you, and you will.