Breakin' Out

I have a plan.
I'm gonna break out.
Somehow.
I don't actually have a plan yet.

I'm just gonna find a way to break out.

And no, I don't mean with pimples, or some strange skin affliction caused by an excessive amount of orange juice and pistachios, but I think that was really just hives brought on by nerves but never mind that.

No, I mean, I'm gonna break out of this here mundane, uninteresting life.

I'm going to lead an interesting life... one that doesn't involve little boys missing the toilet with their poop and then falling off said toilet into the puppy pee no one told me about, screaming for help while said puppy ate said poop... not that sort of interesting life. I've had enough of that interesting life.

Certainly not one that involves Drama Girl exhorting her will at the lab and refusing to get her blood drawn while screaming, that's not the sort of interesting I mean.

Nor do I mean interesting tales of being the mom of Pee Wee Drop Outs. Or being the mom of a water-phobic Bear who thinks pools are giant tubs for monsters, not that sort of interesting, either.

And I don't mean interesting in the way that my psychotic kook of a neighbor calls me up on Day One of my owning said poop-eating puppy to bemoan the loss of civilization as we know it because Lahdeeda got a puppy and OBVIOUSLY isn't the sort of woman who'd take care of it, and could I take Cujo the Killer Rabid 30 LB PuP Who Strikes Fear in the Hearts of Anthills Everywhere out the front door (no). That sort of interesting I'm done with.

I also don't mean the sort of interesting where Hubby McRed announces that he is going on a business trip, in three days, and will be gone the weekend that both of my papers need to be written so I can graduate. That's not interesting, that's just a special form of hell invented just for me.

I mean the sort of interesting that makes people want to read about my interesting life without having the same effect as they would watching a train wreck. You don't want to watch, you can't help yourself, but boy are you glad you're not on that train!

The sort of interesting life that involves making strawberry jam and taking cute little pictures of it with cute little blond haired toddlers and I don't care if you used a little powder gel pack and it was easy peezy Ms. More Gravy, it was quintessentially quaint.

I love alliteration.

I mean the interesting sort of life that is filled with little interesting happy little facts.
Say, maybe this summer for instance, Bear will go in the water. That would be interesting, and photographic. I could photograph things. I could photograph quintessentially quaint little moments. It could be a new hobby.

The sort of interesting where I announce on my blog that yes, I again am writing another novel and it's just CRANKING away. (The first novel is done, is a kid's novel, and I don't know if I'm going to edit it, seeing as it's the first one I've done and needs a lot of work, but I'm not making that decision yet.)

Which if I think about it, really is only interesting to me, since writing itself isn't really interesting, until it's done.

Okay, an interesting sort of life where I actually go on vacation somewhere. (Not this summer).

The interesting sort of life where my tomatoes actually grow and can be used. Once I buy said tomatoes, of course. And peppers. In this OTHER interesting life I'd successfully grow peppers and tomatoes in my containers on the back successfully (we don't have a yard, which is nice, because I CERTAINLY don't want the sort of interesting lawn stories yard's entail, which I did in our previous home).

The interesting sort of life where when I take my dog out, she doesn't howl like a rabid manic looney bin at every other dog, cat, creature, that walks.

The interesting sort of life where I go out to lunch with my book club and I'm not so giddy at the prospect of adult conversation that I actually speak coherently.

The interesting sort of life where there's actually a good reason to get to plucking my eyebrows (I hear thick is in this season...)

The interesting sort of life where I have this hobby that positively makes me giddy. Like writing, but that doesn't involve being inside. An outside hobby. Maybe hiking. I'll go hiking with the kids. And the dog. The dog can fend off vicious ants while the rest of us all run away from bears. Maybe I can take up fishing...

The interesting sort of life where my sons have suddenly lost all capability to whine.

The interesting sort of life where I am okay with not knowing who the final Cylon is. (Gaeta, Zarek? Me? Who? aaahhh....)

And where I have other things to do besides wish Dr. Who would pick me as his next traveling companion.

Which really tells you how inherently UN-interesting I am.


Okay...

so what I really seem to want, is quite a boring life....