Have I mentioned that I am slightly... er... underemployed at the moment? And how that's just fine, because I haven't had a slow period in over a decade, and it's summer, and we are doing Fun Things and years and years of being completely mentally ill about money mean that I can slack for a little while and we won't be in financial dire straits or anything? And it's all good, no problems, what a lovely and much needed break, we just have to be a little more careful and it's no problem? Well. I have all this TIME on my hands, now. Time I don't normally have. Wouldn't a lull in work be the...
Here in Georgia it was rainy, rainy, rainy for a while and now the temperature is hovering around 100 all this week. In other words: My garden is going bananas and it's HOOOOOOOOOT (um, very hot, not hoot) out and I'm getting a little loopy. Yesterday I went out first thing in the morning to water, and discovered that as soon as the soil was soft, several of my tomato plants wanted to fall over. (They have cages! and stakes! and twine! and yes, I spend more time/energy on those damn tomatoes than my children, but the tomatoes never tell me I'm ruining their lives.) There's really nothing...
Whenever my children are being buttheads---and trust me when I tell you this happens plenty often---the default tension-defuser is for said child to declare, "YOU MADE A THING!" Translation: "I'm a butthead, but you made me, so clearly this is your fault." (Monkey also loves to follow it up with a gesture towards his sister and the addition of "You made TWO things!" Har har.) And it's true, I made two things which are apparently now full-fledged individuals whom I cannot control. TERRIFYING. I feel compelled to make LOTS of things. Some of them work out, some don't. Some are successful, some...
We have reached the portion of our program where I am completely ready for school to be done and the only thing I care about very much is going strawberry picking. What can I say? 1) It's not a terribly long season and 2) I'm a strawberry glutton. There are worse habits to have, I'm sure. Monkey has started peering into his lunch bag each morning and saying, "Whaddaya know? STRAWBERRIES! I'M SHOCKED!" But it's not a complaint, because what sort of weirdo would complain about fresh strawberries?? (Do not tell me the sad tale of your second cousin's girlfriend's cousin who was deathly allergic...
Traditionally the weekend is a time to relax and unwind, to sleep in and do Super Fun Things. I mean... I assume that's a tradition for some people? We're terrible at that in general, though I do hold the whole "sleep in" part pretty sacred. (As I said to Otto just last night, it's not so much that I view getting up early and packing lunches all school year long as a burden, it's just that by May I am completely OVER it.) Anyway, sometimes we aren't so great with the whole "Super Fun Things" notion, what with the kids' various activities and need to be with people other than us, GOD, MOM,...
... every time I let the dogs out, Licorice comes back in covered in twigs and leaves and mysterious little burrs, all "I'M A WILD ANIMAL! YOU CAN'T TAME ME!" Meanwhile, Duncan comes back inside sneezing. Because he is a delicate puppy-flower, and he has hay fever. ... both children are suddenly complaining that they "don't have any clothes that fit," as if it's somehow MY fault that they grew since last year. Also, at 15 and 17, they seem unable to grasp the concept that 10 minutes before the bus comes is not the most optimal time to start demanding I find them some larger shorts. (I'm...
... I have possibly lost my mind. But hey, it's hard to tell. That's the joy of living life just on a knife's edge of sanity. Woooooo! We're counting down the days until school lets out, and I have been baking as if there's no tomorrow. Or as if there's a tomorrow BUT only if you have a LOT of decadent treats with which to meet it. Whatever. I have been back to the store for more butter THREE TIMES. My garage is filled with various containers of dozens and dozens of cookies, and an entire shelf of the fridge is covered in fudge. (Um, in appropriate receptacles. I did not just slather fudge...
'Tis the season for baking! I feel like my oven's been on more often than it's been off, the last few weeks, and this is because I love to torture myself with goodies I cannot eat. It appeals to the martyr in me, I guess. Yep. It's all bake-o-rama, all the time up in here. For one thing, it's a good distraction. For another, the holidays are coming. And finally, there's been some stuff to handle at school and you KNOW I don't ever go to school without a basket of baked goods. It's against my religion. Also, I figure we need all the help we can get. So in a fit of whimsy---tongue firmly...
When I'm quiet here for too long, my dad calls me to make sure no one died. I always tell him that's just silly; if someone died, I'd have something to blog about, after all. (For some reason he doesn't find that as funny as I do....) Life and the school year continue to WHOOSH past me at an alarming rate. Rest assured that I am not holding out on you on the end result of the dueling posters situation; the kids swear they haven't gotten their grades back yet, and that particular teacher seems to not be using our online grade portal, so it remains a mystery. Of course, Chickadee did mention...
