8:30am

Remember awhile ago when I said that *a bead* is small, but many are not? Let's add to that the fact that many beads, when stored in a plastic bag, are easy to drop into the big tupperware box, but singular beads are a right pain in the ass to have to deal with.

But they're done now, and *now*, I can finally move on to other stuff. I was hoping to have more done, but once I finally finished picking up the little ones, I looked up and all of a sudden it was 8:20. Doh. :)

Next song:

Drive - Alan Jackson

I love this song, but it makes me both happy and sad. Makes me remember good times--summer camping trips to Flaming Gorge and Lake Powell, and those times when I got to drive the boat. The wind's in my hair, and my stepdad's smiling, and it's like there's not a care in the world. My mom, trying to teach me how to drive her 5-speed, 1980 Corolla, and me having trouble with the clutch--but doesn't everyone? That Corolla was my first car, and we drove that poor thing into the ground. My own car, especially the newest one, on those nights after class when the sun's going down and it's 75 degrees outside and I can put the top down and enjoy the evening.

I love my car.

But it's kind of bittersweet, too, because he's talking about 'when Daddy let me drive,' and that didn't really happen for me, not with my birth father. There are so many things that I missed out on, being a product of a broken home, and a father who...well...he didn't really get it, I guess, that's probably the kindest thing to say about him.

Still, I do have those good memories, and if that unlikely event ever comes to pass, if Brett and I ever do have kids, I think I'd love to teach them how to drive.

Let's just hope they don't inherit my lead foot. :)