Contemblogging

Ho hum.

I sit, finger tips ever so gently poised on the primary qwerty keys, ready to wow my audience (all four of you) with a story…any story.

Only problem is I’m feeling rather ho hum. I’m not sure if it’s the anticlimactic end to a beautiful wedding/holiday season, or the fact that I turned 40? It might be because I was sick all week, and haven’t returned yet to the full vitality and glow I frequently radiate. In fact, my glow meter is a low 2 on a scale of 1 to 10.

There’s no glow.

Not even a lousy twinkle.

After applying an ample supply of makeup, I still look tired and blah.

I’m afraid it’s the five year itch. The inherent need to change, redo, regroup. It hits me every 5 years or so, and usually results in a new job, a move or perhaps a new house. With the cost of living rapidly increasing and next year’s private school tuition due within weeks...more likely I’m looking at a new pair of curtains, or maybe a haircut.

Let the transformations begin.
The first change of the year took place yesterday when I said goodbye to my blue Moma van. I loved my van, full of memories, Barbie shoes, plastic dinosaurs and the occasional lost cheerio. I could almost hear the sounds of giggling (or arguing) children echoing from the van as I gave it one last look and fondly told it goodbye. Its lease ran out at 60,000 miles so I was switched to the new hybrid Ford Escape. It’s brand new and has that new car smell that you either love, or that sends you into raging fits of asthma. It’s smaller, sportier, silver, and has a much younger feel than my previous parental mobile. That should take a few years off the old image huh?

Change is good. Scary, but more often than not necessary. Now I’m thinking I need a make over too, because when I look in the mirror I see a tired woman with frazzled hair and dark circles under her eyes. Maybe a new ‘do’ is just the thing I need to update my appearance and add some pep to my step? I’m not a fan or hairdressers by any means, and tend to avoid them until I’m bumping into things from obstructed vision. But it is, after all, just hair and will grow back if I find myself weak and unable to throw rocks or build floating arcs, or however that story goes.

I’m taking suggestions, which doesn’t necessarily mean I will act on them because I am a big fat hairy pair of sissy pants when it comes to cutting my locks, but I’m listening. Go on…make me over.