It’s Wednesday.
Today is one of those days where I am really glad Wednesday is Friday. (Sorry to all you international folks. We get to gorge ourselves on turkey and pecan pie tomorrow.) Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. A day to share our thanks for everything we are blessed with in life.
Yet, sometimes (even if for the most trivial reasons – which btw is TOTALLY ok) we’re not thankful for *everything.*
Sometimes you have days where you just want to kick a situation in the shins. I know you know what I’m talking about – that moment when you eye the clock thinking, “I could really use a glass of wine right now,” and realize it’s still only 9 a.m. (Brings new relevance to Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day, I think I’ll move to Australia, doesn’t it? I thought so.)
Here’s the deal.
Sometimes you find yourself so flush with frustration, you’re completely immobilized with indecision about whether to curl up in the fetal position after chugging a glass of zinfandel or hurling a pinecone at the offender (person or problem – we’re not picky) with the speed force and accuracy of Randy Johnson (a moment of silence for our fallen feathered friend here, please).
Over at the group website, A Nervous Tic Motion, we’re starting something just for you today.
Wineconed Wednesdays.
Kabam! Wineconed! Don't frustrate me.
It’s for anyone out there who instead of giving the finger, would love to throw some pinecones at someone who’s been pissing them off. Adoring someone instead? Toss on over a smackaroo. (Sometimes all we need is a little kiss.) Either way, we’ll have the wine waiting.
Winecone
Smackaroo
Join us.
Throw your winecones in the comments. If you’d prefer to remain anonymous, please email anervousticmotion1@gmail.com, or me personally at tricia@streamdoubletrouble.com. (I’ve been working on my curvecone.) We’ll have a weekly wrap-up for you.
Feel free to button up your own site with Wineconed Wednesdays!
And remember – nothing is too trivial to whine about. We know there’s plenty causing those nervous tic motions…We just don’t know what the holy hell to do about it.
Kisses and winecones!
Tricia
I got to break up three fights today, decide whether or not to incinerate the cutouts I spent three hours on after a child with impetigo mouthed them, and get observed by a worried parent through the window—while trying to teach English to 42 hyperactive first graders.