Oh, what is it about the transition into Fall that makes me feel so lost? Literally and figuratively, I spent much of the weekend without a clue as to where I was. It started when a mob of Japanese tourists got between me and my beautiful, sunbleached, ice cream-eating children and started snapping pictures with wild abandon. I understood the atttraction and the adorableness of the scene, I really did. But still...
And then trying to find the church in which our dear friends were getting married- at that very moment- we were lost again. I couldn't help feeling we were partly lost on "accidentally on purpose", what with our aversion to the Catholic mass sit-kneel-stand hullabaloo. Once inside, we still weren't safe from the feeling of being in the wrong place. We were like a couple of 10 year olds, giggling and rolling our eyes in the back pew. It didn't help that the priest's speech impediment made him sound ever-so-slightly like the priest in The Princess Bride.
And even this morning, there was the normal Monday Morning pre-schoolbus rush, multiplied by the suitcases in various stages of unpackedness, the papers that never managed to make their way out of the backpack all weekend, and some escaped sheep (guess they got lost, too). I was finally sitting down to my much-anticipated bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and walnuts, and a cup of hot coffee, I suddenly realized my son had missed the bus. Where did those 10 minutes go? They were just... lost.
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