Not in a state of yo

I'm anxious. I've been this way for about a month now. I can't pinpoint what's causing it. I have a few ideas, but until I mull them over, I think I'll keep them to myself for a bit. Smitty says I share too much information anyway. That may be true, but as a writer, I genuinely feel I don't need to hide anything about myself. Yes, I walk into doors and fall into holes and wore two bras to work one day...that's the beauty of me...

I just saw a commercial for a Senior Citizen dating website. In theory, that's nice, although creepy. In reality, it brings to mind that my grandmother mentioned to my sister recently that my mother should "find somebody." It's been less than a year since my father died. While I don't begrudge my mother having another relationship, I think maybe more than a year should pass since your husband of 48 years' death before you start dating. And also, I would like to say for the record, this is not something for which I'm ready. If this happens soon, I will actually need therapy and will have to stop joking about the fake need for it.

Disorganized people can have children, right? I've been thinking about the whole "little person" (baby, not midget) thing seriously lately, and I worry. On the one hand, we always have milk and canned goods, and we have guns to fight against zombies and baby kidnappers, but on the other hand, I have sand in my car, and I don't know from where, there is a pile of at least 15 pairs of shoes on the floor in front of my dresser, and I think Jimmy Hoffa is in my closet.

Children need structure and order, but they also need milk (which we have) and maybe they need beets and oysters in a tin, which we also have ... for some reason. And they need creativity and imagination, which I have, in droves, and acceptance and love and unconditional support, but also a kick in their asses, which Smitty and I can both provide. I think we'll be okay...I just worry...these random things are the things that keep my neck in knots and cause insomnia and weird dreams and thoughts.

I think that Smitty and I balance each other out well enough to have ONE (only one) well-adjusted child. If you had told me 10 years ago I would marry a gun nut with more than a touch of OCD who lives for football season, I would've called shenanigans. But, I imagine if you had told him that he would marry a Noxubee County yellow-dog Democrat with no coordination who frequently runs out of gas and sings a soundtrack that ranges from Frank Sinatra to Carrie Underwood to Concrete Blonde to Sheri Lewis, and sings 80% of the words wrong, he would've guffawed and called his own shenanigans...but it works...oh, how it works. I internally give thanks every day for him.

I'm very excited to be on a reading dervish again. When my ADHD kicks in, I don't want to read, but I think recently, I need inspiration and a bit of escape..and I refuse to play any weird, role-playing games. I feel good things are afoot for Team Smittily. We'll see how it unfolds.