I have an idea:
Monthly Archives: August 2010
So I've been meaning to post some of our vacation pictures in my spare time >insert hysterical laughter< and since I'm apparently allergic to the entire month of August in this town and so find myself awake when I should be asleep even with the assistance of my inhaler–which cost more than 200% more than the last one I purchased, thank you very much corporate America–here I type.
- Soccer Practice. I signed up three boys this fall. One coach set up practices already, one hasn't picked up his list from parks and rec yet, so I don't know who he is, and my other son's coach quit, so they are asking around for another. Asked us. Hahahhahahaha. Yeah right. I respect the people who volunteer to coach soccer, but I am not one of them. First of all, I wouldn't know the difference between a volley ball and a soccer ball. Second, if I'm going to pay to put my kid on a soccer team, I'd better not also have to coach–I've got enough boys to set up my own, free soccer team. (Free, assuming you don't count the exorbitant cost of equipment). So I took my 9 year old to practice this week. He came home sweaty; that's all I need to know. I'd actually really prefer not to know what it was his one-eared coach was shouting at the boys in Spanish because I suspect it wasn't exactly polite. I say one-eared, but I suppose it was more like 1/4 of an ear. Would it be totally racist of me to suspect he lost it in a knife fight? Enough of the snide suspicions; the man is coaching for free, he knows the rules, and he is actually holding practice. What more could I ask?
- First honest to goodness, in the classroom Grad class. Yawn. I'm learning much more from my online classes. So far, I've learned a lot about Dr. B's favorite hobbies and his military service. Rah, rah, rah. Glad I paid upwards of $1300 for that privilege. Maybe he's breaking us in gradually–I've got 8 more hours of him today, so lets hope the pace picks up a little or I'm going to have to start studying my other, more legitimate classes on the sly, in Dr. B's classroom.
- Oooh, wait. I did learn something new from Dr. B: This August is the first time in something like 873 years that August has had five Sundays, five Mondays, and five Tuesdays. Weird, eh? I'm not even sure that's possible, mathematically speaking…
- I also learned, this week, how to type with phonetic symbols. It makes typing this way a little confusing; it always takes me a while to make the shift from this to that, and that to this.
- Paid $16/box for peaches. That's still cheaper than the grocery store, but come on! The last time I bottled peaches, they were eight dollars a box. I can buy them already canned for less than that and my floor doesn't need to be triple mopped afterwards. But my kids hate store canned–tough luck, I've told them for five years–and my almost 16 year old wanted to learn how to bottle them. Can't argue with that–even after a long day at work.
- I finally threw the rock. Two of them, actually, because my aim is really, really bad. I missed Tri-pod, but I hit his obnoxious friend. A person can only take so much abuse, and my other option (carrying a can of red spray paint, with which I imagined painting a large target on the dogs' heads) promised to be a bit cumbersome and unlikely. At any rate, the canine hasn't returned since he went limping home. Should I be ashamed of myself? Cause I'm really not feeling it…
So, the stalking worked. Just call and make yourself a pain in somebody's neck, and voila–daughter has no more evening classes. Hooray! Sitting in that registration session, looking around at all the heavily pierced and tattooed slouchers in the room–I think there were three other young people out of one hundred there who might look a person in the eye–I was a little concerned about my fifteen year old walking across that campus every night at 9:30.
Took my daughter to New Student Registration yesterday at the college. Two hours of talk, and here's your pin so you can register. The pin was her birthday!!!! We could have registered online months ago, had we known that–you know, back when there were actually classes open?
- Broom #1: Discovered on the fourth side of the fence–the porch wraps around here, and I didn't think of looking in this nook initially. I was very excited to locate this broom, until I realized it had been watered thoroughly with the hose…while it was sitting in the dirt…
- Broom #2: After enough of my children drug their behinds out of bed yesterday, I started interrogations, and my thirteen year old explained that he was trying to enter the under-construction garage the night before without letting the cat in; he needed the broom in order to poke said cat out long enough to pull the door shut. The cat really is a psycho; he will not be deterred from his intended course. I spent two hours the other morning just trying to keep the thing off my lap/shoulders/out of my hair. When I refused to stare into his eyes, nose to nose, which is what he demanded and never tired of, and it really freaked me out (have you ever breathed recycled cat air for an extended period of time?), the thing began stalking my hands. I tried to hide them under my book, but he'd head butt his way under there and bat at them; I tried hiding them under my armpits–he squeezed between me and the chair and bit my fingertips. I'd just gotten out of the shower, too. (Maybe cats like soap?) I finally broke a vine off the fence and swung it around randomly while I studied. He never got tired of attacking it. This broom was returned temporarily to me, and has since disappeared again. I'm thinking maybe we just need a cat stick.
- Broom#3: Still missing. I'm inclined to buy into P.S.'s theory, that it's buried under the bark somewhere–we've permanently lost several shoes and possibly a telephone to that pit. No children, yet. Although, I did catch a child using it as a litter box, if you will. After several episodes of this, I began to duct tape the child's diaper on. This only works if you wrap the tape all the way around the child's body at least twice, by the way. I know, I know, the fact that she could accomplish this feat screams "potty train me!!!" but she isn't here regularly enough for me to really jump on that wagon. We tried, we failed, we taped.
Five boys+three brooms+$900 SLR camera (plus possibly some explosives left over from July 4th–everything seems to involve explosives at this point)=what?