Rush

In search of something to say, I hopped onto a random word generator. After a click or fifteen, out pops 'Rush'.
So, let this post be Rush-themed.

This word has significance in what I do because my life somehow ends up being rushed. Years ago, we came up with a term called 'Hazelgrove time' which was really the reason why we were late to <i>everything</i>.

Because, in reality, when you have six people trying to co-ordinate things to catalyse all at once, you have buckley's chances. Anything from going to a dinner to leaving for school in the morning - all one big rush.

I've probably been to about five events in the past five years where there has been no rush. Either because our family is involved in some way, or someone is missing shoes, or hasn't ironed something, or is on the phone - it just seems to happen.

This has plus and minus factors - we adapt quickly to plan changes. We learn to dress-up or dress-down. We learn the importance of carrying at least one hairbrush in the car (I'm seriously not kidding on this one.)
Of course, the offset is almost always stress. But our family keeps going.

Because Hazelgrove time is about being rushed because you are doing five million things at the same time.

I don't know if it is directly because of this, or because I am anal about things like where the clingwrap goes, that has caused my intense dislike of being late.
Maybe it's because Dad getting narky is less than fun.

I don't know. And that's all I can really say about 'Rush'.
I can smell dinner and even though I know it is not, it smells like Tacos.
Later.