The weather is supposed to turn quite beautiful this weekend.
I’m acting in a show that opens Thursday.
Work is going well, for the most part.
Hannah is beautiful, happy, healthy, if a little sassy and ornery.
And yet, somehow, I’m harumphing.
Heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend…women handle emotion like balloons on a clothesline. As long as all the balloons are in some sort of balance, everything is ok. But if one balloon drags you down, the rest plummet to the newly created valley of the clothesline.
I’m disappointed in my house. My lack of ability to sustain and finance all the work that goes into running it. We are the trashy family on the block who doesn’t have the time or energy to deal with the leaves. Hasn’t fixed the front walkway. Has the breaking apart asphalt where the cracked driveway meets the road. The waggly mailbox that someone hit. The rotting fascia. Hopefully, if the weather does indeed turn ideal for outdoor activity, I can drag Hannah outside and have her help me clean up the yard. She loves being outside. The only problem is, we need to clean the front yard, and without a fence, that baby goes straight for the street. What a weirdo.
She likes to help me gather and burn sticks. She likes to explore. She likes to pick up rocks and carry them around with her. She is suuuuuuuuuuuper interested in the magic and mystery of the shed. But she’s also just as graceful as her mother (read falls down a lot). And just as interesting to the mosquitos and spiders. And sun. And in this balloon valley, I feel inadequate at protecting her.
Hope your Friday is billions betters.