Owl Earrings?

These photos of owl jewelry are the result of a seriously wrong mental development that has come upon me as of late. I get breaks in my day of somewhere between 20 minutes and an hour and a half. I am never sure when they will come or how long they will be. My vocation now includes my sweet and amazing son -- this means that I am "on duty" all day and night every day of the week. Always. And for about the rest of his childhood life (and on into adulthood, as my mother assures me -- though in not the same ways at each stage of his life...). This is rather overwhelming. Especially for a person accustomed to long periods of alone time. And to virtual autonomy offered by a slight antisocial tendency and the frequency of major moves I have made in the last 10-12 years. I am not condoning the personality tendency nor the mobility of my habitation. Only, the contrast between my current life and my previous one -- say, even a year ago -- is rather atomic for me to adjust to. I digress..
When I get these breaks I whirl into a flurry -- do the dishes, change the laundry, sweep the stairs, write an email, water the plants, get tonights dessert made, make that phone call....Lately I have allowed myself to get sucked into random internet searching -- Oh, I'd really like a pair of vintage-esque owl earrings. Let's see what's out there. How old exactly is Catherine Zeta-Jones? Where is Durban, again? What are trans-fats anyway? Who is Justin Taylor? -- and is his blog so popular? What goes into the magarita drink called "The Latin Lover"? And other equally useful tangents. Oh, I just can't get going in a straight line. And are my days of efficacious diligence and project-attacking over?
My brains are mush. And over the last few days I have cried about dropping rice down into my stove burners, the refrigerator leaking onto the kitchen floor for the 58th time, ruining a shirt I decided to "modify" with a pair of scissors, Atticus peeing on me, finding out the mapquest directions I printed off were wrong, not discovering that the air compressor machine at the gas station requires the button to be pushed in order for it to shoot out air, my cousin Lisa writing me the perfect email at the right time, my oven being seemingly irretrievably internally dirty, the dog peeing on our outside grill and realizing again the futility of changing one's hair cut or color in an attempt to change one's life. And that I fiercely love my husband and child and home and Saviour and yet I would like to run away from everything to some unknown place for some indeterminate span of time and return as a undefinably different version of myself. And I am just reading the tail end of the book of Revelation where God comes and makes the new heavens and new earth and wipes all our tears away and makes every crooked thing straight, and every broken thing whole, and we are swallowed up in Life. I would like to be the fullest, deepest, most beautiful wife and mother and friend and daughter and sister and citizen and child of God -- NOW. So I can do this life right. All-scrammed fired full-on.
all i can do is look up owl earrings on the internet and write this -- this -- basically a journal entry for everyone who happens to come here to this site looking for photos of Atticus (my truly wonder-baby) to "listen in on".
atticus is waking up and laundry needs changed and i need to get dinner stuff together.
aren't owls neat, though?