Woulda Shoulda Coulda

**Warning: Inner monologue moment alert**

So I've been thinking. Yes, that does happen sometimes. I've been thinking about things that I wished I would have blogged about at the time but never got around to. You know, those moments where a neon sign flickers: BLOG THIS, BLOG THIS. And while you have every intention of whipping out your trusty computer right then and there, you inevitably get side-tracked. What seemed like a good story to share at the time never got written down.

Anyway, here are some gems that should have made it to the blog but are still waiting in the line just praying not to be the last pick for the kick-ball team:

1) My interview with Barbara Walters.
This one takes place entirely in my head, usually when I'm driving for long stretches at a time. She sweeps me off my feet going on and on about how talented I am, have one of the greatest minds of our generation, etc., etc. Then we discuss my plans for revamping public education and ending our dependency on foreign oil. Babara listens with rapt attention and we engage in a natural tete-e-tete. She tells me she's totally impressed with both the innovation and depth of my solutions. Then she invites me to lunch and we dine on lobsters and drink San Pellegrino (food and beverages may change depending on what I'm in the mood for that day).
*NOTE: I have had this fantasy since, well, I'm too ashamed to admit how long I've had it. But needless to say, I've crafted it over the years making it a thing of beauty to behold—in my mind at least.

2) The Great Sleep In.
Several weekends ago the kids went camping with my folks. This allowed me two mornings to sleep in. I felt like a derelict 20-something. Okay, more realistically I felt like I did before we had kids. We used to sleep in until 11 on the weekends. Anyway, it was a momentous and glorious occasion. Except that I don't know how to sleep in any more. As I lay there awake at 7:30 a.m. I scripted my entire post. Then I poked Dave until he woke up and made him take a picture of me. The picture* was to go along with what would have been (undoubtedly) something very witty about the whole thing. In the end, it didn't make it. Let's just say that what's witty at 7:30 ain't so witty after the coffee has kicked in.

3)The Great Vacay of Aught-Eight
I'll tell you how this tent camping story ends before I begin: Night 1. Dave rolls over at 3:30 a.m. and says through gritted teeth, "Tomorrow, we are checking into a hotel. This is it." I will say this tale of using State Park restrooms, camping in a 3 person tent with 4 people on a huge inflatable mattress with one sheet to share, and a potty accident at 3:15 a.m. is fraught with comedic calamities. However, it is still all too fresh for me to write about. The therapist helping me work through it thinks I should wait at least 18 months before dredging up the memories of poo-stained toilets and showering in other people's hair.

Well as you can see, there has been much to discuss. But for now I leave you with this, I will try to get some pictures and stories up in the near future. I have commitment issues so all I can say is "try." My therapist is helping me work through the whole commitment thing in addition to the memory repression thing. Oh LORD THE HAIR. The hair of STRANGERS in MY shower. Sorry. The camping memories/horrors still hit me at random times. Anyway...

Until then!

*Oh wait. Here's the picture which you now know is slightly fabricated. Don't get me wrong though, the mask is not a prop. I do indeed wear one from time to time. You would too if someone *cough, cough* read next to you at night while you were trying to sleep.