Kryptonite in the form of Galoshes

As I openly confessed to the peer editor of my totally awesome book that has yet to be finished but nonetheless exudes total awesomeness, I need to get 'writing'.

I need to do a hell of a lot of things.  The list is longer than Rapunzel's hair, I assure you.  It's so long, I don't know how to prioritize it.  Sad.  Back in 'the' day, when most people used Daytimers, and then Outlook, I never strayed from the Fallonized Cornell notes I once learned from my high school Physics teacher.  I didn't learn anything ELSE from my high school Physics teacher, I assure you, nor do I have any plausible idea as to how I achieved a 'B' in Physics, other than she was gone a lot and her Mom was sick and she was traveling back and forth from Daytona Beach every single day, and I had her for first period, and I was the only junior (yeah, my Catholic junior high school totally screwed me up with math and science, which is why I was AHEAD of my geek peeps in science and BEHIND in math...which also explains why I did so horribly in both, because Algebra 2 is meant to be taken WITH Chemistry, not AFTER...UGH) and honestly, I don't even think she knew the names of anyone in the class besides our Homecoming Queen who also happened to be pretty smart, unusual yet not as impossible as it may sound, and I think she probly gave everybody in the class a minimum of a 'B', just for showing up on most days.

Back to my Fallonized Cornell notes story....back in 'the' day, I would start my workday every morning with my diet Coke, my Snickers bar (ahhhh, the sorely missed Breakfast of Champions, and now I'm craving Diet Coke which is one of my many primary no-no's which hasn't passed my lips in quite some time) my mechanical pencil and my legal pad.  And I would take the previous day's list, and transfer all the items that were not crossed off the day before.  I did this every day of my working life, every day of my work by day college by night life, every day of my plan two weddings all by myself life.  My colleagues and superiors vocally expressed their amazement at my photographic memory and my awesome figurative (thank YOU my genius six year old son for clarifying the difference between figurative and literal) juggling skills.  In fact, one of my favorite aphorisms which became a bit of a catchphrase developed at my last employer, when I was successfully balancing 20 or so projects, totaling hundreds of millions of dollars, my phone ringing off the hook, my profane voice screaming nonstop, papers flying here and there throughout the day, men coming to my cubicle with yet another interruption, another 'fire', another emergency, and I would turn around and 'pretend' to juggle while I VERY loudly made sure that everyone within two counties heard me, "Sure!  Throw another ball in the air!", and my 'peers' in the finance department who only had one or two projects and complained all the time at how overworked they were, shut their bitter overpaid pieholes as they realized I continued to outwork them, outwit them, outsmart them, out....whatever, and it wasn't even a competition, but I was always "WINNING".  One award after another.  One two digit percentage increase after another.  WHILE having rat venom shot up every 6-8 weeks.  Oh, yeah, AND being a pretty decent wife while pretending to manage parenthood.  And perhaps a term as an acitve Deacon.  And displaying yet another first place ribbon from the annual baking contest..and...and...and.....all the while, 

NEVER SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT....

Sigh.


Those were the days.


Yeah, I should be getting back to my 'list'. 

But it is soooooooooooo long, and soooooooooooooo intimidating and soooooooooooo depressing and sooooooooooo barely achievable, and sooooooooooo difficult to work through the pain.........that I simply......don't.



I was supposed to respond back to the I-R-S by the 10th.  Shaaaaaaaaa



I was supposed to have a ton of paperwork filled out and given to my awesome attorney on Monday.  Shaaaaaaaaaaa



That's just the beginning.



I'm taking care of the kids, though.  THAT, I am doing.  And pretty well, I might add.  They are out of the "I miss Dadddddddddddddddy" stage of attempting to prolong bedtime by getting me to feel sorry for them. 



There is laundry to be done, dishwashers to be emptied, floors to be swept, toilets to be cleaned, yet I can't put any weight on my right foot, and damn, the pain is nearly insufferable.



And..............



Fallon-style.................



God dropped a set of galoshes in our life last week.



Galoshes, I say.



For the rain, I pray.



Galoshes, in the form of two job inquiries for Billy, one of which is seemingly solidified as Jell-O.



In Minneola.



Florida.



Minneola, as in, the tiny town ensconced by Clermont that allegedly has its own mayor and schools and fire department, but might as well be Clermont, and even the Minneolans know it.



This life of mine, of ours, this waiting on pins and needles life of ours, this life of totally trusting God, while attempting to interpret the heiroglyphics of his message.........



Damn.



M_________________M____________________________________________M



That's my attempt at illustrating the high peaks and low valleys of our life, aka our time in the desert.



It's not just physically difficult to scratch items off my to-do list.



Mentally, emotionally.................I almost 'can't' do it.



And there's nothing that Fallons 'can't' do. 



(other than play professional basketball or win an NAACP Image Award)



Or so we tell our children.



I used to feel like Superwoman, even though I knew I wasn't.



I knew I wasn't Superwoman because of life.



Life was my Kryptonite.



Life IS my Kryptonite.

~