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Ode to trying to have Good Ideas

Have you ever looked into a campfire and seen dancing fey among the flames?  And think that the wind is like music which sets the tempo for the flames to dance a sway too?  That’s what I think of when I look at fire, is the beauty and also the potential for danger.  Like most beautiful things in nature God has given them such beauty but also a little bit of thorn.  A common example is the rose.  Have you ever wondered if God did that to make us humble?

Anyway I digressed just a wee bit… night started out wonderful we took Elle out to the dog park for the first time and after being freaked for a bit she really started to have fun.  It was great watching her play and have a great time, I always kind of feel like those mothers at play grounds who watch their children with such diligence and pride when I look at my dogs.  Well at least Elle, Hans is a bit of a spaz, and we blame that on his father, I mean the husky.

So after Elle had started to tire out we went home promising to bring Hans tomorrow afternoon since it’s all fenced and he wouldn’t have a chance to escape.  We get home and start discussing what to have for dinner, now mind you we’re a little poor the week before payday and our options are about 5 different ways to cook hot dogs, and no I am not joking.  My husband, Scott gets this great idea of cooking them over the bonfire and using the new hot dog stick my parents just gave us.  Great!

So as we’re setting up I get this great idea, or so I thought at the time, that we could set up the tent and do a little “camping”  in the backyard since we won’t be able to for real.  Now here is where the evening turned south, way south.

Where we live they didn’t use very clean fill to level the property, and so most of our soil is rocks upon rocks.  Scott tried to put in tent stakes to no avail and while I love my husband, patience is not his strong suit in anyway, shape, or form.  If something starts to not works he gets pretty well…. pissed.  Which for me signals the primitive part of my brain that says “run, hide, and be very, very quiet.”

I totally can not help this response to any sort of anger.  I will immediately assume it is all my fault and that I must take the wrath that will be directed in my direction….because I deserve it.

Why do you ask?  Because I don’t know how to handle anger when it’s not my own.  When it’s mine it get’s bottled and slowly seeped out, unless you’ve really, royally pissed be off then your getting the broken steam gasket full in the face.

Now don’t get me wrong Scott is a wonderful husband until you ask him to do something that requires trusting and relying on something mechanical to work, like the drill for hanging anything up.  I ask those requests as infrequently and sweetly as possible.

To get to the moral of the story, because ever story has to have a moral!  I think I’m  just going to stop coming up with these seemingly great plans in my head but when I try to execute them they always blow up in my face.  Which is why ladies and gentlemen I rearrange all my furniture by myself unless I can’t help it.


About knittyfiend

Stay at home mom with a toddler obsessed with yarn

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