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Crazy Little Thing Called Life

September 15, 2009


I’ve been a bad blogger, but I have a pretty good excuse. It’s called Life, and it’s very probably the reason for my marathon craving for Life cereal recently. I’ve singlehandedly gone through no fewer than four boxes in the last few weeks. That stuff is tasty sprinkled with a little sugar.


My manic days begin with me stumbling out of the bed in the morning and getting the kids dressed and fed and off to school.


Okay—I cannot tell a lie. I urge the kids to get themselves dressed and fed, and I remind them to brush their teeth. Same dif. Very June Cleaver-ish.


Then it’s time for the time suck. That’s the computer, in case you were confused. With my computer I email the teachers of my homebound student and print their lessons and handouts, make notes for my student, and somehow manage to email twenty-seven other people before ten-thirty a.m. I am not kidding. I counted. I think it has something to do with volunteering to organize the fall festival for our church, but I could be mistaken. It could also have something to do with volunteering to organize the snack rotation for Lawson’s soccer team.


I’m not really sure what I was thinking. I think it’s one of those classic cases where the brain is not actually engaged when the lips are moving—which happens a fair amount with me. I wasn’t pestered or begged or even really asked…I just volunteered. And then I volunteered again, at Lawson’s soccer practice tonight. (The soccer practice, coincidentally, that Duane and I have to move heaven and earth to get to, since Autumn’s tumbling is from 4-6:30, Lawson’s practice is 6-7:00, and Duane’s meeting at church is at 7 p.m. And while it isn’t AA, that kind of schedule is enough to give anyone a drinking problem.)  No one else had volunteered (imagine that) to help out with team pictures or the end of the season party. So open mouth, insert helpful volunteer foot. This isn’t even an “I can’t say ‘no’” kind of problem. This is a “you’re a moron” kind of problem.


But I’m not complaining. I am actually reveling in my moronic-ness. My moronic, freakish, volunteerishness. I actually like being so busy I can’t draw a deep breath. I can’t explain it, because it defies logical explanation. My mom remarked on the phenomenon when I was in high school and filling every waking hour with some activity: volleyball, Forensics, Ace, lit mag, newspaper, work…she would have been worried about me if she couldn’t see clearly that I was thriving. It’s the same now.  


My name is Lori. And I am a Volunteer.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. September 15, 2009 9:25 pm

    Oh, Lori, how I feel your pain! I call it helium hand. Every time someone asks for a volunteer, my hand seems to go up on its own accord. But, like you, I thrive on it. Here’s to overachievers! 😉

  2. September 17, 2009 9:37 pm

    I choose not to comment on said topic for fear of incriminating myself as Gerb has done before me. Curse us all!

  3. hintonrae permalink*
    September 21, 2009 12:20 pm

    You know, I’ve been looking for just the right statement with which to personalize my license plates. I’ve considered “LAWTUMN,” because somehow, no matter how hard I try to separate my children in my mind, they always just sort of run together. It’s always either Awesome or Lawtumn or both. Awesome Lawtumn. But “HLUMHND” has a nice ring to it. I’m kind of liking it. Or maybe HEHAND. But probably nobody would get it.

    Ah, well. Off to cut and paste for the kindergarten teacher…

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