Granola, continued....

is still a bit of a mess. Not clumping together like I want it to. I want store bought looking granola. What I've created in reality, not metaphor, is a plastic container full of bird seed reject. I don't think even the squirrels would risk a lead vitamin to go after this.

I eat it anyway in my Greek yogurt with a smear of honey. It may not look pretty but a couple of craisins will go a long way toward tastiness.

Jules is chewing my comment box for my poor metaphor. That's okay. We can not all be Gifted Ones.

However, it's not a bad comparison as to how this Monday has transpired. I mean, Tuesday. That is today, right?

See what I mean?

I could blame it on the drugs. Listen carefully. Some dietary changes I've made recently have caused a weight loss. Yeah. But my body has not quite adjusted to the "nerve pill" dosages. I love saying "nerve pill". I grew up hearing my South Georgia aunts tell each other they needed a "nerve pill" because of the "chillen" (children) driving them batty.

Still makes me giggle.

Seriously though, I'm on a real "nerve pill" to help with the after effects of having a nerve root in my spine severely compressed. While all that compression is now relieved, thank you, Mr. Doctor Neurosurgeon, that particular nerve root is still more than a bit irritated and having your leg feel like it's brushed up against an electric fence 91 times a day isn't all that pleasant. (There's a simile for you, Jules)

So I've chosen the "nerve pill" option. And my "chillen" still can drive me batty.

Like they did this morning. I think that's where this story was leading. In an Atlanta to New York through Malaysia sort of manner.

The alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. but I didn't haul any part of me out of the bed. It was cold. Instead I snuggled right down where the sun was not shining and tempted myself with another 22 minutes or so of sleep. And then for some reason Husband and I began to discuss the boys' high school transcripts. Which led to discussing college choices.

They are finishing 7th grade. Blame it on sleep deprivation. Or not getting up at 5:00 a.m. when I should have. But not the "nerve pill" this time. I hadn't had my morning dose.

Through the shower, the getting ready and the dressing of the day, the discussion continued. Inadequacies reigned, dispute arose, was quelled, feelings soothed, unity re-established, word pictures flying. You know, just the regular ole' Tuesday morning before 6:30 a.m. discussion between Husband and Wife.

And then I woke up the boys. Who didn't want to get out of bed either. Chores, breakfast, some chores redone, breakfast clean up and then getting school organized on the board and on the work table and answering math questions and explaining a science assignment and telling Son to leave the typing program alone and setting up the video and printing off maps of Scandinavia and Europe and explaining the math again.

Sheesh. Bed was looking better and better. But responsibility called although lack of focus loomed. In the garage I was greeted by the cold hard facts that leaving an interior dome light on all night will murder a battery. Guilty as charged.

Husband took me to my meeting where I kept trying to keep the train on the rails. (Look, another metaphor!)

Anyone still reading?

So, the wrap up is: my life right now is still unclumped granola. The individual pieces are good, but I want them to stick together better.

Which is why there is Wednesday, right? To try again and use more honey.

Metaphors, mwahaahaahaa.