I didn't even know I needed to know this

One of the most interesting gifts Youngest (a big believer in interesting things) has received over the past few years is a subscription to Mental Floss magazine. It's packed full of stuff you didn't even realize you wanted to know. The current issue is beside me on the sofa, open to a page with a bunch of riveting facts about time.
Here are a few:

Did you know that a $1 bill circulates for about 21 months, while coins average 25-30 years? Anyone who digs around in my school bag or purse could tell you that. There are never any bills. There are always coins.

We all have heard that humans need about 8 hours of sleep. A giraffe only needs 1.9. A cow needs 4....huh....who knew I was sleeping more like a cow than a human? Something to think about. I'l like to try sleeping like a giant armadillo. 18.1 hours. Maybe not all the time--I'm just saying it might be nice to try it once.

Apparently, chimpanzees spend 6 hours a day chewing. Really? Chewing what? Must be something other than bananas, right?

Know how long the average hug is? 3 seconds. The journalist who compiled all this stuff and more into a book says that a day is about 28,800 hugs long. That's a lot of hugs, even if you have a lot of people to hug.

See what I mean? This magazine shows up, and every time, I learn things that I didn't even know I wanted to find out. Maybe I should  find out how much time I save each month wearing shoes with no ties versus those with ties...or count how many hugs long a slice take to write...

Nephew and Nonner Mommy

Tonight I went to my oldest nephew's senior music recital. To say that he's a talented musician is an understatement. Nephew can play just about anything within a few minutes of picking it up. Next fall he'll head off to college to continue to study music. He's going to love it.

This is the boy who I held in my arms for the first time not long after we discovered Oldest was on his way. The boys grew up together. Nephew and Oldest were quite a pair, and have come so far since the days of banging on pots with wooden spoons and playing a mean Barney Banjo....for long periods of time.

When he was very young, Nephew called me Nonner Mommy....he already had one mommy...I was the "nother"one. Tonight as he collected congratulations from assorted friends and family, I reached up to give him a hug and tell him what a great job he'd done. A voice much deeper than it used to be replied, "thanks Nonner Mommy!" I'm not sure which of us had the bigger grin.

These little piggies...

These little pigs once belonged to my grandmother. After she died, these were among the things my aunt brought out for my siblings and cousins to look through. I'm not sure why, but I found something very appealing about these little guys. They are salt and pepper shakers. I have no memory of ever seeing them before my aunt brought them out, but I know they must have lived in a cupboard or maybe out on a counter or tabletop at Grandma's house. But surely I would have remembered that--I mean, I'm not sure that I could have resisted playing with them if they had been on Grandma's table. They look like the kind of pigs would need to have a conversation or do little dances or run away from the steak knives.
I haven't asked my mother if she remembers them. For now, I'm just glad they live on the window ledge above the sink in my kitchen, where they've found a home among the chives and parsley. They are happy there.

Shhh....

I alone in the house.
Let me say that again--I am alone in the house.
I have been here all by myself for just over 2 hours. I cannot remember the last time this has happened for more than a few minutes.
I watched basketball, but it seemed like too much noise and too much action. Life has been that way pretty much all day every day for a long time.
So I turned it off, much as I wanted to see who won. I'll check it out on Sports Center later.
I took a bath. I read. I put on the softest clothes I could find. I almost didn't slice because the sound of clicking keys seemed intrusive somehow. The only sounds are occasional creaks from around the house, distant rumbles of car or train engines,  paper rustling as pages turn, and the sounds of my own breathing.
Shhh....

On Friday, We Know

We don't need a calendar to tell us it's Friday at this house. Everyone staggers into the house from work or practice or a meeting, and more than one coat doesn't quite make it onto the hook or hanger or chair back. Bags are carried just far enough to not be counted as left in the doorway.
It's common to find a shadowy lump in a chair or on a sofa in a room that is dark because flipping a light switch seems like too much effort. Often each person finds his or her way to a different room, too worn out for company. The energy level in the house would make a sloth appear hyper.
Even when someone has something planned, and even if it's a much anticipated event, the getting ready takes at least twice as long as usual. It's accompanied by deep sighs and sometimes a soft groan. Going and doing isn't the problem. The problem is momentum.
Dinner is late on Fridays. It takes a while to work up the desire to do something about the hunger pangs. Sometimes someone takes one for the team and agrees to go pick up carry out. Often it's the person who hasn't yet managed to change into sweats or pajamas.
Bedtime becomes a problem only because bed is so far away. There are stairs involved, and teeth brushing, and defying the gravity that keeps us pinned to our spots. There is no need for a calendar to tell us the day of the week. On Friday, we know.

The Slice That Isn't

I have started this slice 3 times.

The first idea had an awesome title and a great premise...but no content (no, I cannot tell what it was! What if the rest of it comes to me on another day this month? I need the potential for an idea, even if I don't have a real one, and the title is awesome).

The second one bored even me. And I have low standards.

The next try had promise, and I got 3 short, snappy paragraphs done before rereading, only to realize that sentences that wander around without going anywhere are not snappy at all.

So this is a slice that isn't. It isn't a story or anecdote or list or poem. It's just a collection of unrealized potential, a series of starts that weren't, and endings that never happened.

Oh boy!

I'm excited, and when I tell you why, I just ask that you don't jump to conclusions.

Husband has done something wonderful. Something that is causing me to especially look forward to going up to bed. A lot. So much that I'm anxious to finish slicing.

(Hey now--just what exactly are you thinking?)

It's just that when he told me what he was going to do, I immediately started figuring out how much longer til bedtime. And I'm a girl who will do almost anything to avoid figuring elapsed time.

(Seriously, I cannot believe that you thinking what I think you are thinking.)

Husband knows how to make woman happy at bedtime.
You see, a while ago, he put my flannel jammies and fleecy socks into the washing machine. Then that handsome hunk of a man put them into the dryer. And the buzzer is about to go off. That means I'm about to be handed a hot pile of comfort just in time to slide in between the cool sheets of our bed. Bliss.

Aren't you ashamed of where your mind has been?