I haven’t participated in a Writer’s Workshop in far too long. Since I love writing, and love having a prompt to inspire me, there’s no excuse for NOT doing it. Even if I have been busy. And oh boy have I been busy. Between running from here to there and back again and having my nose in a book non-stop, the hours in the day have flown by.
I guess I can finally let the cat out of the bag.
We’re moving. Again. It’s a good thing, I think. We bought a house. Apparently we couldn’t handle being debt free any longer so we decided to stimulate the economy in a big way. 🙂 No way am I going white on my roof, though.
I’ll tell you (and show you) all about it another day.
First I have to know. How do you feel about phone calls from your children’s school? I must tell you that I HATE them. They always WANT something, and whenever I see their number on caller ID I panic a little. Who is sick or hurt? Yesterday I got a call from the school nurse that child #1 fell on a field trip and hurt her arm. This morning I got a call that child number 2 needed a jacket. Wait. I’m supposed to drop everything to take her a jacket? Apparently. Then, this afternoon I got a call from the school nurse that child #2 fell on a field trip and hurt her wrist. It’s a good thing school is ending soon because I’m done with the phone calls. (Both girls are fine, by the way).
Now, let’s just jump right in with SLEEP WALKING and TALKING.
I LOVE sleep walkers, and sleep walker stories. I’m just glad I don’t have one of my own. My kids are sleep talkers, rather than walkers. In fact, I’m pretty sure that Garrett talks more when he’s asleep than when he’s awake.
My uncles were notorious sleep walkers. The kind that would leave their house in the middle of the night and ride their bike down Main Street or pee in the corner of the hallway.
My dad used to wake my brother up when he was in a deep sleep for kicks and tell him it was time for school. The guy (my brother-I just like saying, “the guy”) would take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast and head out the door before my dad reined him back in. And then, he’d just go back to bed. Crazy good times. Too bad he never got to enjoy those times like we did. He never remembered the next morning.
I’ve always been too light of a sleeper to doing any walking. Sigh. I always mumble when I sleep talk too, so I don’t have one good story about me. I hate that. 🙂
It appears that I haven’t really done any out of the ordinary writing here, either. I guess it’s the thought that counts. Right?