Oh my goodness, that sounds so George Bush or Sarah Palin. I would consider changing it, but I won't. Neither of them should have a right to talk about gettin' er done, when neither of them have probably gotten anything done without the assistance of a camera crew, a make-up team and an herd of editors. When I say gettin' er done, I was referring to this opening statement on my new blog, so that I can get back to getting everything else done on this farm.
Today, my list consists of volunteering at the school library, ordering pigs from middle Idaho, cleaning the house, doing the laundry for four boys and one farmer, attempt to make a healthy dinner out of a freezer filled to the brim with hamburger and pork chops, convince all of my sons that they can do homework, music lessons, and wax the tractor all while texting their girlfriends on their cell phones. I have to tend to the cat, drive fifty miles into the city to pick up a pair of glasses, get one of the boys to piano and another to basketball, convince my husband not to freak about about the market when Spring work hasn't even started, stem the rising water in the basement, do the recycling, and oh yeah, the school called. I have to go. Sounds like the littlest one has pneumonia again.
Alas, these are my days. They are filled with laughter, irritation, sarcasm, and most of all speed. I have been accused of living my life on Novocain, and that someday I am going to wake up and realize what the hell I went through being married to a farmer, raising five kids and being a writing. I hope so, but I hope I don't wake up too soon. After all of this, I still have to start training for Bloomsday this afternoon!
