a wednesday outing

For today's reading enjoyment, everyone in my household will now be placed under harsh lights and outed to reveal a moment of their past week that they'd rather forget. I'll leave the Film Geek alone just this once. I've picked on him enough the last few days. (I reserve the right to change my mind if the mood strikes).




Sasquatch - Last night was Parent's Night at his brand new High School. I didn't really feel like going but I did. You have to bear in mind that all through his Junior High years I approached these things warily, never knowing which teacher was going to put a contract out on my life. Or send in my picture for the cover of "Loser Parent of the Year" magazine. (Although my money was on his AP Biology teacher). It's not that we don't try, it's that he has a head like a concrete bunker and is fortunate enough to always know better than us. I learned a lesson last night in inflection. Always before the teachers have said, "Oh, you're Sasquatch's mom." Last night, every one of them, with a genuinely pleasant smile said, "Oh, you're Sasquatch's mom." That little inflection changes everything, doesn't it? It tells me he's trying. It tells me he's finally ready to take this seriously. It tells me we're only nine days into the year.



Gumby - Has joined the Sixth Grade Orchestra and will be learning to play the violin. He has been practicing diligently at every opportunity, and makes up in volume and enthusiasm what he hasn't yet learned in technique. At the same time he's decided that our bathroom "ghost" has now moved into his bedroom and is watching him while he sleeps. Last night he told me very excitedly that he'd figured out how to scare the ghost away. He's decided to play his violin for his visitor, you see. To hear him tell it, ghosts don't like music. As he said to me,"I bet I can scare it away forever with my playing." I'll bet you can too, sweetie.



Surfer Dude - Got so carried away eating Farmer's Market pear shaped yellow cherry tomatoes that he told me if it were legal he'd marry one. (They were amazing, I'll give him that. He and I ate most of the pint on the seven minute drive home). This from the kid who said (after attending our last lesbian wedding), "Mom, just once can I go to a wedding where a girl marries a boy?"


Yours Truly - Was helping Sasquatch carry a dilapidated entertainment center out to the trash Saturday and lost my grip, causing it to slide down my shin with enough force to break it apart. The entertainment center, not my shin. However, it took a concave divot out of the Rotten Correspondent off and on from knee to ankle, causing me to hop around in my front yard with blood running down my leg and vile words spewing from my mouth. When the FG saw it he first looked nauseous and then said I should go straight to the ER, at which point I said..."On my day off? Are you out of your mind?" and went looking for clean cloths, hydrogen peroxide and Neosporin. Every time I hobble past him he bites his lip and keeps walking. Wise man.



On the good news front, I racked up my 5,000th visitor to this blog this past week. I can't remember exactly when I put the stat counter on, but it was very exciting to hit that number. So to celebrate I threw on the little country counter to your right to keep track of other fun stuff. It looks a little sparse now, but hopefully will bulk up soon. It could be quite interesting. Make sure to check it out.



And that's all I have for today, folks. Eat lots of cherry tomatoes, listen to some good lesbian wedding music and don't let ghosts carry entertainment centers out to the curb. You heard it here first. And I should know.