I have a problem. It's called short-term attention span. I'm an all-or-nothing kind of person, and frankly, it's gets in the way sometimes.
Some people are like turtles - slow and steady, plodding along with their aggravating steadfastness, usually winning the race. Damn them. My husband is more or less a turtle. He's as steady as a rock and it takes a lot to get him riled up. He's like the photos of a gal with Botox - sporting the same expression unless it's something really cataclysmic.
I, on the other hand, can sport a multitude of emotions for any occasion. But it's my rabbit-like tendencies of being focused for the short dashes, that is paining me now. We've been into the Guadalupeproject for three months now, and I'm still not fluent in Spanish. It's ticking me off.
Today when I spent time with Rosetta, she's reminding me that I'm not as smart as a fifth grader. Top that off with a conversation that I had with Maria from work yesterday, on how she was unable to complete her education, yet she's bilingual! No Inglés until she came to the United States. Maybe I need to purchase a one-way ticket to Mexico or Spain or Columbia to get the job done right. I am going on a cruise to Mexico next year. Hmm. Possibilities...
Perhaps when the high school football season is over I can refocus on Rosetta. Honestly, every game is do or die now that we're in the Race for the Ring. Friday's game is for the Semi-State Championship, and if all goes well, we're heading to Indy for the State game. I know, I've mentioned this before, but it's the song that keeps repeating in my head and I won't be normal until it's over. My son, Alex, jibed me the other day, saying, "Aren't you glad I give you something to live for on the weekends?" That hurt. Of course I have MANY things to live for - I just can't think of anything else at the moment. By the way, he said that in response to a request I made about how even football stars need to take out the trash.
I am grateful for this blog. This self-imposed writing project. This public announcement on how I'm going to do something that would be easy to stop until next week. Like the diets and the New Year's resolutions and yada yada yada. One of my friends, Brenda, and I joke about how next week will be better, because we're always so swamped with this week. We toy with putting that on our tombstones.
What the heck? I'm just going to enjoy the ride whether I'm dashing or plodding. The Guadalupeproject will keep me honest.