Do-over post

Right, that last one was all mopey and sad.  I'm not sure that this one will be any better, but I'll put some cute pictures of Silas on the end, and we can all smile and pretend it never happened.

I've been having to talk to many highly-educated people lately for work, and I'm quite certain they all think I'm a moron.  Frankly, I sound like a bumbling, stumbling idiot on the phone.  Last week, I was leaving a voicemail for business-related purposes, and the voicemail lady interrupted to inform me that I had blathered on long enough and that I was done now.....but I wasn't done.....I still had to leave my call back number.

Writing is the only means I have of effectively communicating with the outside world.  I'm a rock star in emails.......because I spend forty-five minutes composing them and reworking them until they make sense.  No such second chances on the phone.  

God forbid the person on the other end ask me a question.  Even if I know exactly what I'm talking about, my brain and my mouth never are on quite the same page.  My brain is BFFs with my fingers.  They spend all day writing emails and text messages together.  So, when my mouth tries to get involved, it's just the awkward outsider trying desperately to fit in and failing miserably.

Professional help seems appropriate, and so I've been thinking of auditing an oral communications class at my local community college, but I'm lazy, so odds are, I will just continue to sound like an idiot on the phone for the rest of my life.

Now, as promised:

Last Night's Faux-hawk

The crash that came after the double nap refusal

Improvisation - when you don't know what you're actually supposed to do with a toy, make it a stool

Silas was up all night puking the night before last.  Text message that accompanied this picture: "He knows how to suck it up and go to work."