Today, I read a book that was second on my list of Things That Have Wasted My Time. The first was "Children are from Heaven" by John Gray. I highly recommend his book on relationships...he's not so great with the kids.
Anyway, the book I read today was supposed to be a mindless novel, intended to steer me away from my usual genre and toward something less twisted and scary. Instead, it was way more twisted than Steven King, poorly written, and centered around a brand of feminism that I just cannot tolerate.
What I got from it was this: Burn the book and never read anything by this author, nay - this publisher, again.
I hated it. But I got two good ideas from it. One was to make a dream list. Every week, dream something and later, when things aren't so crazy, make it happen. I love lists, so this was perfect. I can list out the crazy things I want to do and make sure I have some time to do them in the next fifty years. Number one is to ... make a dream list. Actually, find some time to make a dream list. Number two would be the list. Actually, number two would be to not spend the time I find watching everything in which Nathan Fillion has ever had a role. Number three -- The List.
The other idea I got from the book was how great it would be to be able to chose something. As free as I have felt over the last year and half, in reality, all of my choices are made for me. I had to find a place to live, I had to go back to school, I have to wake up to that alarm every single morning, I have to take the kids to school, take myself to school, feed people, clean things, wear the same clothes, find everyone's shoes, put people to bed, go to bed myself, start all over the next day....
It was actually quite depressing.
I can't wait for summer.
Last summer was spent scrambling to find a place to live and figure out what to do about a job. This summer is mine.
I'm going to take a road trip with no notice and no plan.
I'm going to have a serious tan because I'm only going in the house when the temps are over 100.
I'm going to walk.
I'm going to turn off all the clocks for a week.
I'm going to get purple feather extensions in my hair.
I'm going to get this divorce finalized if it kills me.
I'm going to spend every Friday babying Ninja Truck.
I'm going to look at Corvettes until my eyeballs fall out and I find The One I will eventually own and drive when my kids are grown.
I'm going to hang out on my front porch by myself and with anyone I can get to come over.
I'm going to jump on the trampoline with the kids every day.
I'm going to clean my house and fix up the yard and give the dog a bath and all the big chores I don't have time for anymore.
I'm going to read 50 pointless novels. Some of them better be good.
I'm going to go see my aunt and uncle and cousins.
It's going to be a glorious eight weeks. Or seven, because of the snow days.
Ok, that sounds like a lot of work. Mostly, I'm going to sit on my porch. Come over, I've got beer.
