fuzzy

"Are you feeling a little fuzzy today?" asked Terri, my coworker. Um, yah, just a little bit.

I don't know what was wrong with me today, but more than once, my brain failed to connect with my mouth, and I made a fool of myself. Several times, I walked out of my office only to stand in the big room wondering why I left my office. Then I'd sit down again at my desk only to immediately remember why I left in the first place.

First thing this morning, I needed to call Darren to ask him some computer questions. I picked up the phone and dialed up to Michael's office. Michael, I knew, was not in the office yet. And yet, I let it ring and ring, wondering why Darren wasn't answering across town in HIS office. Yeesh.

Darren was on the phone with me yesterday (my cell) when I took a call (on the work phone) with a vendor I've been courting, and commented that it was cool to hear me "in professional mode". He was impressed that his trash-talkin', oft-giggling, sometimes ghettofied wife could actually sound mature and educated on the phone. I rode high on that compliment for a couple of hours, sad as that sounds.

Well today, the gentleman I was so professional with came by the offic with a proof for me to peruse and sign off on. He was middle-aged (meaning, of course, that he was probably 20 years older than me. ahem), immaculately groomed, very professional. After we small-talked for a bit, I offered to provide him with one of our info packets, and made my way across the room to my office. Behind me, I could hear him mumbling something, and then he said, "A&M".

I turned on my heels and squawked, "GIG 'EM!" He looked completely taken aback, and was speechless. Then I realized that he was looking up at the quote that adorns the doorframe of my office, which reads, "The Lord is my rock, my fortress, my deliverer. Psalm 18:2." In an instant, I realized that the mumbling I'd heard was him reading that verse aloud, followed by a more audible "Amen and amen." NOT A&M.

Finally, he said, "You're an Aggie?"

"Oh!" I gasped. "You said amen." He smiled weakly. I know he was thinking, "What a FREAK."

"I thought you said A&M. I just moved my daughter to College Station last week for her freshman year at A&M, so I guess I have it on the brain."

I am a freak.

I'll spare you the other stories, but the day didn't improve.

Fuzzy.

1st day

And so here we are again - the first day of school.

Remember back in the day when choosing your first-day-of-school-outfit was something to stew over and change your mind about thirty-three-and-a-half times? In this age of mandatory public school uniformity, it's a choice between khaki or navy pants, and white or blue shirts. Not a whole lot to get excited about. In fact, it's so unexciting that this morning, Aidan and Ian dug through their dirty laundry and chose the closest-to-clean shorts they could find to impress their teachers and influence their peeps. But wait - before you judge me - let me explain.

Last week, before I left for College Station with Dani (who is now safely nestled into her townhome and noshing on cupcakes and Dino nuggets like a real grown-up), I carefully laundered all the new school clothes and put them away. Imagine my surprise this morning when I opened the shorts drawer to find it empty of all khaki and navy shorts! WHA.....? A quick glance at the laundry heap clued me in: they'd been wearing their new school clothes every day that I was out of town. Did their father notice? Apparently not. Who sends their kids to the first day of school in dirty clothes? Please pass the Mother of the Year Award.

At least their underwear was clean.