I Have Nothing to Say

It’s been awhile since I really wrote about something, hasn’t it? Almost two weeks. Granted, I posted some photos last week, but that’s not really writing. That’s just distracting you with my kids’ cuteness while I think of something to write about.

I guess I haven’t gotten really riled up about anything in the past couple of weeks. Well, that’s not entirely true. I read this story on the Internet this morning and got really, really angry because yet another selfish tool decided to try to take out as many people as possible, instead of seeking professional help or at least just eating a bullet in his garage or something, because his life wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. But I’ve done the pro-police post a few times already. Don’t want to overdo it.

I’ve also blown several gaskets at other drivers in the past couple of weeks, including the dump truck today who could have moved into my lane at any time during the five miles it took for me to catch up to him on the highway. But he decided to wait until the hood of my van was aligned with his back tires before he started his lane change. Those reflective thingies hanging off each side of your truck are called MIRRORS, moron!! Try LOOKING IN THEM once in awhile! But I’ve already done the idiot drivers post. That would just be boring to read about again.

I’ve been dealing with probationers in all of their loveliness, too. And it was a full moon recently. That’s always fun. Had a woman show up in my office for her first appointment and test positive for alcohol. Apparently she didn’t read my post on the Secret to Probation. Neither did any of the dozens of people who have lied to me in the past couple of weeks. So it seems pretty pointless to write about that kind of thing again.

I just posted photos of my kids, so you know Olivia and June are doing well. They decided last night at dinnertime to have a screaming contest. I’m amazed they didn’t blow any windows out. I still can’t hear out of one ear today. But I’ve already done the kid post several times. Too much sugar makes for upset stomachs.

I’ve gotten a lot of stuff lately. We got our professional photos that we had taken by Marchelle Mosley a couple weeks ago, but I’ve already written about that positive experience. (The photos look terrific, by the way.)

I also got a new pair of boots. I wore out my last pair. Try to contain your excitement.

I got a Blu-ray player and a subscription to Netflix, and I have been in movie heaven for about a week now. I watched some French action flick that I had never heard of last night because Netflix said I would “heart” it. I did, indeed, “heart” it. I also amused myself while I watched it by using my French language skills with their 20-or-so years of rust on them to nitpick the subtitles. Although I have to admit, French actors speak REALLY quickly when I’m two decades past the last time j’ai parlé français. I’d be lucky to find my way to a restroom if I was dropped into downtown Paris today. But that’s not really something anyone’s interested in hearing about.

I went to three Little League games this weekend, all of them massacres. My best friend’s son is on a pretty bad team. I think they’ve only won one game this year. There was hope on Saturday because they were playing the only team they’ve beaten, but after four close innings, the wheels came off the wagon for our team, and the final damage was an 11-4 loss. Later in the afternoon, I watched most of a double-header involving a team that the son of another set of friends plays on. His team is absolutely horrific. They only hung in there for a couple innings before giving up 13 runs in the third inning. They came back with 8 runs in the bottom of the third to make it a five-run game, but then they coughed up another 7 runs in the top of the fourth before the mercy rule kicked in. After they lost the first game, 22-10, I made the mistake of thinking that it couldn’t get much worse than that. Oh, how wrong I was. In the second game, my friends’ son’s team sort of hung in there for two innings again, but once again, the third inning was catastrophic. Entering the third inning in a 9-2 deficit, they gave up 23 runs in the third inning and lost 32-2. The other team really wasn’t trying to run up the score. They would only advance one base per hit after awhile, even if everyone had reached base safely before an outfielder had even gotten to the ball. They stopped stealing bases. And ultimately, they started batting with the opposite hand. Right-handed kids were batting left-handed and vice-versa. And they were swinging at everything except for the pitches that went behind them and seven feet over their heads (at the same time). Mothers of the opposing players were angrily yelling at their sons for making contact with the ball. They were DESPERATE to let our team get some outs. I half-expected them to start laying down in the base paths in between bases for a couple minutes until they could be tagged out. Finally, after the other team went through their batting order about eleventy-seven times in the inning, the last (right-handed) batter popped up to the pitcher while batting left-handed. While the game was painful to watch, it was still a fun afternoon and evening with good friends. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time as we tried to cope with what we were witnessing through humor. But really, who wants to read about a bunch of kids getting demoralized on a baseball diamond?

So as you can see, I’m not exactly leading an exciting existence right now. That’s not a bad thing, but it makes it difficult to find something of interest to write about.

When I think of something to write, I’ll let you know.