Queen of Rambles

I can’t believe I have my act together enough to turn in an article on time for this issue of Mosaic Minds. Granted, it is still a rough draft and I have three other things I need to do, but I’m still impressed with myself. Usually I’m doing things at the twelfth hour since I don’t have anyone to hold me accountable. I must be held accountable.

Speaking of Mosaic Minds, we are in need of feature articles for the upcoming issue. The theme is Turning Points, so please feel free to submit an article (personal essay). We would love you forever and might even give you a child (if my kid keeps up with his demon squalling every night. What? You don’t want a demon squallor? Maybe I’ll give him to you if you don’t submit an article).

We also have the next batch of themes prepared, and I’m quite happy with them. Here’s a small preview: Generation Gap, Never Say Never, Anticipation, Truth or Consequences, and Time Warp.

Now, on to the important questions in life. Which came first, the North Pole or the Elf?

I swear I gave birth to an elf. My little boy looks more and more elf-like every day, but that’s too be expected. His father’s side of the family has a distinct elf-like quality. Is it because they’ve lived so close to the North Pole for so long? Did Mike’s ancestors work for Santa? Will my child become a toy designer and reindeer whisperer? Should that be my wish for my child? Forget about wanting a doctor or lawyer in the family. I want someone who knows how to wrestle a flying reindeer.

Seriously, when I lived in Kiruna, Sweden, I noticed that many of the natives looked like elves. There is a myth that Swedes are tall and blonde, but I didn’t find that to be the case at all. No American would call me short, but I certainly wouldn’t be classified as gigantic in height either. In Kiruna I was always getting awed comments about my towering stature. I’m only 5′6″ and I don’t wear heels. The really odd thing, though, was Swedish pants. In America I have to be careful not to end up with high waters, but over there it was almost impossible to find pants that didn’t land under my heel. What do the short people do? Who is wearing those long legged pants? It’s certainly not the elves!

And now my little elf wants his mommy’s booby so I guess I better go before the screaming resumes.

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