Random Hopelessness

I was thinking about elementary school during Mr. Drummer's early morning feeding.  My elementary school.  I was mentally going through all my teachers and remembered how I always confused Mrs. Donagan and Mrs. Donavan.  One was the librarian and one was my Kindergarten teacher.  Still don't know which one was which.  As I went through all the grades I got to 5th grade and couldn't remember the name of my teacher.  Oh, it made me mad.  How could I remember the rest and not her?

Then I started thinking about how our personalities are right there with us from the beginning, and laughed (in my mind, though, Drummer doesn't like feeding interruptions).  I remembered how I used to crochet during recess.  I know.  I was a dork, even back then.  I always feel like I have to be doing something with my hands or I'm not being productive.  I have to conscientiously tell myself to sit back and enjoy a movie without doing anything else.  And I've got about a dozen projects going at once, and usually only get them done if there's a deadline attached, or I'll just keep starting new ones.  It's horrible.

I'm afraid I see that trait in a few of the baby dills.  Sigh.  I just love projects so much, though, I'm not too apologetic.  I've joked that it's my drug of choice, but it really does exhilarate me to rummage through my supplies and start something new.  I'm hopeless, as I think Ryan has discovered, but he like to see me happy.  Even if I'm hopeless. 

Look at those knuckle dimples and big boy paws.  That's one of the first things we noticed about Drummer, who was dragged into the sewing studio to munch on peaches while I attempted to get some sewing done.  Not only does he like peaches, he thrives on attention, so not much was accomplished.  We're all hopeless around here.