The Obligatory Dear Husband Post (For That One Guy Up in Michigan)

One of Rhett’s buddies cruised by the blog the other day, and his main comment was that my dear husband is conspicuously absent from my writing. I don’t know if this truly concerned him, or if he was just making a casual observation. I honestly hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess after rereading previous posts, I can see why he thought that – but he’s wrong. Rhett’s presence is all over this blog. Just maybe not the way you would expect.

First of all, there wouldn’t even be a blog if it weren’t for Rhett. If I hadn’t gone back to school, I never would have remembered how much I love writing. Even now that I am back in school, Rhett is my number one cheerleader, constantly encouraging me to keep going. Rhett’s never-ending patience with my insanity/eccentricity ( I never know where one stops and the other begins) allows me to indulge my creative side, whether knitting or writing, while I try to decipher who I am and who I want to be.

So, never fear. Rhett’s absence is his presence. If you read about my latest escapades in academia or my tangled world of knitting, just know that Rhett is behind it all. Whether he’s helping with the housework or reminding me that I can accomplish my goals, Rhett is unmistakably important. Just like the old adage that says behind every successful man is a good woman, I firmly believe that behind every successful woman is a man who isn’t afraid to do the dishes.

I'll Take "Safe Answers" for $500, Alex

Sunday night we were all driving home from my parents' house, and the boys were discussing the difference between nerds and geeks. Evidently, according to Oldest Son, there are stringent criteria for each classification. After listening to the debate for a bit, I posed the question, "What am I?"

[Insert cricket chirping sounds here.]

Evidently the boys were afraid to answer, and I have to give them props for being smart enough to not call me a geek or a nerd (at least not to my face). I finally broke the silence and gave them some advice that will take them far in life (especially when they get married), "No matter what the conversation, if a woman asks you 'What am I?' the answer is 'beautiful' boys. The answer is always 'beautiful'."

Not missing a beat, Rhett chimed in with, "And if a woman asks you anything else, the answer is always 'Yes, dear.'"

My Two Favorite Black Holes

I had industrious plans this evening. I was going to study for my Spanish exam and come up with a dazzling thesis statement and outline for my next paper. I was even going to post some ridiculously witty piece of writing here on this very blog. Then, I checked my email.

Now, it's not the email checking per se that has sucked the productivity out of my evening. It's where a particular email led me that is causing so much trouble. The subject line appeared harmless enough: "Do we read the same books?" Considering that the sender recruited me into her book group, I was thinking, "Of course we do, silly. We have at least one book in common every month." But curiosity got the better of me and I opened the email anyway. The email was actually an invitation to goodreads.com, an absolute paradise for book readers and list makers alike. Not only can you keep track of what you've read, are reading, and want to read; you can also network with other readers. It's like Facebook for bookworms!

My other big time-waster lately has been Ravelry, which is to knitting what Goodreads is to reading. Not only can I keep track of my yarn stash, my needles, current projects, and projects-to-be; I can see what others have knit with a yarn that has been sitting in my stash way too long, or I can see what yarns other knitters have used for a particular pattern and then substitute without fear. I could get lost on Ravelry for days. I even broke down and ordered a digital camera just so I could post pretty little pictures of my stash and works-in-progress. (Yes, I do realize I'm the last person still using film.)

Well, at this point, I really do need to get busy. I still have a Spanish exam tomorrow, and I still have a paper due next week. But first, I just want to add one more book to my list...

Just Do the Math

I read an article called "30 Days to Success," and the premise sounded simple enough. Try a new habit for just thirty days, and then you can go back to your old miserable ways (or not). I decided I would try getting up each morning at 5:00 a.m., because as we all know:

early to bed + early to rise = healthy, wealthy, and wise

Unfortunately, I forgot a few other key equations. Like...

early to rise - early to bed = sleep deprivation

And...

sleep deprivation + PMS = total meltdown

Therefore...

early to rise + momof3gr8kids = What the *#%@ was I thinking?

I'm Missing an "H"

I've always felt defective. I understand now that I've been measuring myself against an impossible standard: my mother. She is absolutely amazing and always so full of energy. I truly believe that she accomplishes more before 8:00 a.m. than an average person does in an entire week. But when I was I kid, I didn't realize that. I just saw her buzzing around and felt incredibly inadequate.

Seven or eight years ago, I was finally given a name for my perceived inadequacy: Attention Deficit Disorder, or ADD. (Unfortunately, naming the problem didn't cause my bathroom to instantly shine or get me caught up on laundry.) What I noticed about this diagnosis was the glaring absence of an "H". You see, my type of attention deficit is known as "inattentive". This is the zoning out kind of ADD, the kind where I am blissfully ensconced in my own little world until something truly interesting comes along. ADHD, on the other hand, is for the unfocused types who run around, always busy with something, even if it's the wrong thing to be busy with. The way I see it, the "H" is the crucial difference between the two types. So, I've decided I desperately need my missing "H".

I think my Mom has this elusive "H". Let's face it, what we might call "hyper" in children, we just call "having a lot of irons in the fire" in adults. I also think that the "H" can skip a generation. While Oldest Son is a dreamer like me, Middle Son definitely has the "H". (The jury is still out on Youngest Son. So far, he seems miraculously balanced. It must be his father's fault.)

Now before anybody gets upset, let me make it clear that I don't think having ADHD is necessarily easier that having ADD. But, you see, I've already got the whole unfocused routine down. I've been working on that for thirty-five years. But if I found my missing "H", I might actually get something done. Sure, I might only get the dishwasher halfway unloaded before I get the brilliant idea to make a tutu for the cat, but at least half of the dishes would be put away (and the cat would look really cute, but miffed). So, needless to say, if you see an extra "H" floating around, send it my way!