I love Lucy!

I love Lucy, really I do. The whacky red-head could make me laugh (and relate) like no-one else. But, does my life have to resemble her beloved re-runs?



Take Saturday morning as an example. I woke up in a rather brutal, not uncommon, way. The phone was ringing loudly and no-one was taking it. I'm not the only person in the house who faithfully sleeps in on the weekend. I am however, the only person who wakes up when the phone rings. I crawled out of bed in my usual sleep attire; a rather short, somewhat skimpy nighty. Sounds sexy? Maybe from the neck down, but my morning hairdo and make-up could scare the sex drive out of any man! In retrospect, that might be a good thing.



I was heading towards the dog-on phone when I tripped over a pile of DVD's on the floor. I should've known better than to look straight ahead; in our house there are various piles of different sizes whereever you'd least expect them. The trick is to look down at all times. Anyway, as I lost my balance my arms flew in the air, my body made a strange twist, (I can still feel it) and I fell face first and boobs second right onto the couch. That's when I realized I was not alone. A young man was sleeping on the couch, or at least he was until I landed on him. Thinking it was my son missing work again I yelled "DAVID, you gotta get up for work, that's probably them calling!!"



"WHAAAEEEE!!!!!" the no longer sound-asleep young adult screamed! "WHAAAAEEEEEEEE!!!!" I yelled even louder. Behind me I heard a third "WHAAAAEEEE!" from my 17 year old, Natalie. "MOM, NOOOOO! That's NOT David!!!!" She sounded near hysterical.



Now that I was awake, I realized I was leaning over a total stranger; my semi-sexy nighty, racoon make-up, "got-frizz?" hair and all. I quickly excused myself and ran back upstairs. Well, I really don't do running, so it was more of a hurried limp.

Exactly 23 minutes later I re-appeared in the kitchen; boobs, hair and make-up in all the appropriate places. I introduced myself to the young man (who was at this point having it out with our coffee maker) as Natalie's real mom. My poor daughter was still recovering from the entire experience. I think it might take her some time.



FYI my daughters don't make a habit of bringing home male companions without clearing it with me first, but apparently this was an "emergency" of sorts, and poor Trevor (who actually makes pretty decent java) needed a couch on which to crash for the night. My bad for going to bed so early I guess.



The day only got worse, for me that is, not Natalie. (How could it? She went on her merry way to the mall like any sane, unemployed teen on a Saturday.) So as to finish sometime today, I will only bring up disaster number two, and you'll get my drift.



My munchkin (a.k.a. my one and only grandchild Nicholas, who is of course the most beautiful, intelligent, strong and observant almost-four-month old in the entire universe!!!) was about to arrive and I had up to this point not accomplished anything visa-vi housework. The most urgent task on my agenda was to boil water for his bottles. Like any person in our family, Nicholas is not impressed with starvation, so it was of utmost importance that I have at least half-a-dozen bottles at the ready before his grand arrival. As I plugged in the kettle I realized the kitchen was in desperate need of a wipe-down, so I plugged the sink, turned on the tap and added a bit of soap. You know what comes next, don't you...



My excuse is a riveting article in the newspaper. It had to do with Winnipegers once again showing their compassion in action, this time by planning to block a crazy cult (yes cult, not church!!!) from gaining access to a funeral. Anyone following the story would understand the distraction. When the water started flowing like a river across the kitchen, I heard it, yes I admit I heard the sound...it just didn't register. I honestly thought it was the kettle boiling, and I usually let it boil for a while anyhow so I ignored it.

Suddenly I discovered the sudsy waves splashing across the hallway and once again "WHAAAEEEE!!!" fell from my mouth along with a few other choice words. David (who indeed had stayed home due to an accident: a whole 'nother blog for a different day) came tearing up the stairs in a "let-me-at-em, let-me-at-em" mode, in spite of his injuries, ready to battle with whom/what ever was attacking his mama. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was "only" a flood taking over the house.



Several laundry loads of wet towels later, I was ready for Nicholas, whose mom thankfully called and said they'd be an hour late. God is good. If she'd come on time, she might never want me to spend time with the tyke again, for fear he'd drown in my kitchen.



I have often heard from friends that I remind them of Lucille Ball. At first I would thank them, thinking I actually looked like her. She was after all very beautiful. But alas, it has more to do with her lack of focus. I too have no focus. I would like some focus. Just a smidgen focus, even, would be great. It would, for example, be nice to read one book at a time, or get my whole house clean on the same day, or drive to work just once without someone honking at me or vice versa. (Actually, I don't honk, I just use my outside voice. Thanks to a co-worker, I can yell at people in Italian, which somehow seems more effective.)



Why did I start a blog? Because I love writing. I would like to write a book; but a blog seems more appropriate. I won't have to focus for too long and no-one will actually have to publish what I write so as to not destroy my self-esteem.



Welcome to my place.



Liz

PS. I never did find out who called.

PPS. There will be plenty of PS's as I never finish talking, unfocused as I am.

Bye.