I like to blog in the morning. In fact, I like to sit down with my cup of coffee, read a few blogs and then write my entry. This starts my day off well and then off to shower, dress, and go to work. I’m a creature of habit if nothing else.
When I was little (let’s just say for the sake of accuracy here from like birth to college) I was afraid of dogs. All dogs. No, there were no “nice” dogs in my world view. The little ones where yappy and horrible. The big ones would jump up and freak me out. A bark in my world equalled a full on attack. I was afraid of dogs.
Oh and I should mention, not the cute run behind my mother kind of afraid. I mean the frozen with fear - want to curl up in the fetal position kind of afraid. I would not ride my bike down certain streets because there were dogs (behind fences). I would not walk too close to the fence in my back yard because we had dogs on both of sides of us. I would NOT go to some people’s houses because they had a dog. Did I say I was afraid?
No, this is not the beginning of some truly dull joke. No, in fact, it is the beginning of the really sad story of the mouse.
Mr. Mouse (now, I’m only going to assume that Mouse is in fact a Mr and not a Mrs — as I want to think at that hour only Mr. Mouse would be out as Mrs. Mouse is home with all the little mouselettes) was wandering through the various farms of Snarkville. I’m betting that he was coming home from the local Mousey Pub. He was running late, the Mrs. is going to be ticked and he has to get up early to go to his mouse job tomorrow morning. He had ONE.LAST.ROAD. to cross. In his rush and drunken stupor, he didn’t stop and look both ways. No, Mr. Mouse scurried out and across the street. He got 3/4 of the way and finally the thought, “wow, I can see so well — where’s this light coming from?” entered his mind. Mr. Mouse stopped, he turned, he ran back to the halfway point ….
Prince brought it to my attention that my wishes seemed odd, since in the past year I’ve travelled somewhere I’ve never been AND I’m already planning on going somewhere I’ve not been before in my 33rd year. So, given that my husband didn’t understand my plan, I thought I should explain.
My 30 wishes are more of a ‘to do’ list for this coming year. Some of these are things I’ve got in the works that I want to make sure I accomplish. Some of them are random goals I wish to achieve. Some of them are just plain fun. Mind you I hope some of them are these things, since I’ve not thought beyond the first two wishes.
So the goal of these wishes is to create a little check list for myself for my 34th birthday to see if did the things I wanted to do. However, like I said before, I’m not thinking about things like “world peace” or to change anything beyond my own control. I will not be wishing for large sums of money or something not truly quantifiable, like ‘happiness.’
Any questions?
(The Queen Mum is either laughing as she knows I’ve always had this odd relationship with my birthday OR she’s horrified at my complete lack of social skills. I assure you, it may be some odd combination of both.)
My mother’s horror or laughter notwithstanding, yes, the birthday month is rapidly approaching. Now, I’m not going all crazy like my friend Karl (see, Mother, it is a September birthday thing — perhaps a mid-September birthday thing.) But then again, I’m turning 33, not 40.