Oh Mayb forgive me.

I...I'm a happy person. I know that the cranky people of this world (and no, I don't mean Mayb) look at us happy folk with suspicion and resentment*, but one can't change one's basic nature. I do, however, occasionally think how irritated some people might be when I am in a really REALLY happy frame of mind, particularly if there is no specific reason for said happiness. Because perhaps some things are beyond the pale.

So...Mayb, Jason and whoever else may read this blog I'm sorry. But this morning I was in the stacks singing out loud...to Aqua. Happy Boys and Happy Girls. Can we still be friends?

*I think because they don't believe that people can actually be happy and they're convinced that we're pretending to be happy while we secretly plot to rule the world.

Matchmaker?

It's good to try new things, yes? So I thought I'd give a shot at matchmaking. And where do I start? Trying to get a person who won't meet without emailing together with someone who won't email without meeting. Not my fault but I think the message here is that I'm not a matchmaker. I mean really, I should have started with something easier. Like some couple that's already together.

Rock a bye baby

I confess, I am a softy in the mornings. I make the lunches and if I think the day is going to be particularly hard for my babies (yes, they're teenagers but they're MY babies, so shut up) I will make them something special for breakfast. I made green pancakes this morning. What better use for the green sugar left over from the cookies we made for a bake sale? Anyway...

The boy thinks that his day has been starting earlier than it needs to. So rather than wake him up so that he is actually eating before I left for work today, I woke him up as I was leaving. Told him there were pancakes in the warming drawer, syrup in the fridge and he would have 35 minutes before I came back to take him to school. So did it work? Did he get ready in time?

Yes, but only because today I took the girl and her poster board and baking and things to her school before I came back for him. He got ready in the intervening minutes, pancakes uneaten. I knew, however, that he wouldn't be ready when I got there for the girl. How? When I phoned to say I was on my way, at the end of the conversation I said good-bye. He said good night.

And I thought I sucked at selling

I just finished a computer class. More than half of it was spent on what the software can't do. Why I need to spend time learning what I can't ever use is beyond me. Maybe that's why they're management and I'm a mere underling.