I have to write quick. I don't know how long I have. Special Agent Baby is near me, on the other side of the bed, looking out the window. He is, in other words, distracted.
It has taken me a week to find time to return to this blog. I feel like a Bond Girl on a special mission anytime I try to do anything for myself. It requires cunning, craftiness and coordination. There are other times I feel less like a stay-at-home mom and more like a Bond Girl. For example, when I drive with my Isotoner gloves on in the 2-door Accord coupe, I feel like I am really driving a hip sportster down a sleek, curvy road in the Alps. (Driving with the gloves in the Chevy Lumina minivan doesn't have quite the same effect on me.)
Alas, I only drive with my Isotoners in the Accord so often. (You may have guessed that the Accord does not rank high as a family vehicle.) In the meantime, back at the farm, the ice storm we recently experienced has melted my enthusiam. I try to remain optimistic about job hunting in a bad economy with a degree that is useless, but, somehow, I am falling short today. I miss using my brain. I love my baby, but I miss creating complex neural pathways.
My time is up. Special Agent Baby is on to me.
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