But first, I have to:
Brew coffee. (Because you have to wake up to write about lust at 6:30 am on a Sunday.)
Then I decide I'd better check my personal email. Why do I have 34 messages since last night in there? Oh yeah, because I commented on a bunch of Facebook status entries while waiting for Charlie to start Breaking Bad. Which means I'd better log onto Facebook now, too, and reply.
But then I find some informative emails in my inbox, too. Like the four different messages from Nate's soccer coach concerning fall tryouts, banquets, and the Memorial Day tournament. Which I read while trying not to get all panicky about the five places I need to be at once at 1 pm next Saturday (setting up for a party, at Toby's kindersoccer game, driving Calvin home from his 11:30 am game, finding a copy of Nate's birth certificate for the tryouts, and making fruit kabobs...don't ask). I decide I'd better go find my iPhone and add all these events to my calendar, in hope that the wonder of Apple technology can work out a formula in which I miss nothing (I'd pay a lot for an app for that). And then I reply back to the soccer coach with questions. And then ask Nate exactly how many goals he did score in the Kick-a-Thon, so I can write out the check.
It's now 6:48 am. But that's cool; I still have time before the kids will demand breakfast.
Then I remember I really should check my blogging and travel email, too. And I respond to several comments left there and two reviews. Then I get sidetracked down the lovely rabbit hole which is my google reader.
I open Blogger and stare at a blank entry screen for a bit.
Lusty, lusty, lust...
Nate can't find his Bible for church. Needs it now. We look in his room. On his bookcase. In his bed. Under the seat in the van.
I stare some more at the blank screen. Lust. I've got...nothing. The night before, I told Charlie that today's topic was lust, and we did a little free word association to give me some ideas. For the record, the first thing he said was 'Gone with the Wind' and the first thing I said was 'grain elevator'. (See, I had this professor in college, and he talked a lot about writing poetry in grain elevators while working summers on the Washington Palouse, and waxed lyrical about the smell of the wheat ripening in the heat of the sun, and...well, anyway, it was all very sexy. You'll have to take my word for it.)
I make a mental note to follow up on that Gone with the Wind thing, then try to play around with these two ideas for a few minutes. Amber waves of grain, antebellum hoop skirts...what's wrong with us?
7:26 am. I delete.
7:32 am. I'm out of writing time. Nate still hasn't found his Bible. He wants breakfast.
I start the water for oatmeal. Toby comes over to complain that the other boys will only watch Animal Planet and not Sponge Bob. I make them switch. But Toby doesn't want to watch that Sponge Bob, because that's the one that gives him bad dreams. As does Animal Planet.
7:38 am. Calvin doesn't want oatmeal. But we're out of cereal. Toby wants a egg sandwich. But we're out of eggs. I get them yogurt and granola and tell them to get in the shower.
7:49 am. I remember Nate has a poison oak rash and I have to rub cream all over his legs and stomach before he can get in the shower.
8:05 am. I get in the shower. I wake up Charlie. (Yes, it's good to be him.) Nate still can't find his Bible. Oh, and he's decided he's too sick with a sore throat to go to church. But not sick enough with a sore throat to miss his soccer game later. (No dice, kiddo.)
8:18 am. Calvin has no clean underwear. I make him wear a clean pair of Nate's. (Does anyone else do this, or is it wrong, wrong, wrong?)
8:26 am. In the car.
8:35 am. We remember we forgot to put the dog out. Go back home.
8:45 am. Late to church. (Nate is itching his legs and Calvin is complaining that his underwear doesn't fit. Toby is crying that he thinks he sees a Cheetah out his window and will never sleep tonight out of fear of Animal Planet.)
I hope you enjoyed this sultry post on lust.