Allow me to clarify:
I accidentally named the lizard Stanley. Dillon was holding off, trying to think of the coolest, cleverest, dragon-ey name (Vlad, as in The Impaler, was at the top of the list). But he took too long and in the interim I started calling him Stanley.
And it stuck.
Which makes me so thankful that we went into childbirth with a clear plan. Can you see me open the back door and holler, "Vivian!! Fabio!!! Time for dinner!!!"???
Yikes.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
The Pets, They Fear Me
I don't think I ever recorded it, but right after we moved here last spring, several innocent animals gave up their lives for my amusement.
We already had the dog. We acquired him in Japan and must be a strong little ball of fluff as he is still living and breathing, though I frequently forget to feed and water him until he scratches and sneezes at his food bowls in a canine attempt to communicate that, "Hey, Stupid! I know you don't like to cook all the time, but I don't have a drivers license and can't go through the Mickey D's drive-through so I'm completely dependent upon your lazy ass to keep me alive!"
And then I tell Mackenzie to feed him.
I think the death-toll is somewhere around 8 fish and 2 aquatic crabs.
Anyway, Dillon wanted a snake. We said, "No way in Hell." He counter-offered with a ferret (refer back to answer #1), and then came up with the lizard idea. So we went and looked at them. He came home with a Chinese Water Dragon and all the required accessories (including a container of live crickets which must be refilled on a weekly basis - ewww). His name is Stanley, and though I was in charge of his well-being all summer long, he is still with us.
My problem seems to lie in the aquatic realm.
Mackenzie wanted an aquarium. We bought her a 5-gallon freshwater with 5 or 6 fish. None of the original fish are still living, though that's not entirely my fault. We brought home a fish with "Ick", who infected all of the others, who then, one by one, slowly kicked the bucket despite my best efforts at marine veterinary science and a product called "Ick-Away". We also bought a couple of teeny-tiny brown crabs. We had to put them in a decorative shallow glass bowl because they kept scaling the filter and climbing out the back. And then I'd have to chase them down. And sometimes I'd have to wait stealthily outside Mac's bookcase until they came peeking back out, thinking all was safe, and then I'd whomp a tupperware over the top of them. So finally, they ended up in the glass bowl on the coffee table where everyone could enjoy them and the sides were too slippery to perform a Birdman of Alcatraz. Until one died and the other molted. And I wanted to get a peek at the renewed crab and lifted up a corner of the rock it was hiding under, at which point it (obviously) scooted further under the rock, and then the rock slipped out of my hands. And I squished it.
And then I made Tiny-Little-Crabcakes.
We also bought a Betta for the kitchen. He lasted about 2 weeks. Until I washed out his bowl with Palmolive (which I totally know you're not supposed to do but did it anyway) and he died.
Then we bought a pop-eyed goldfish for the same bowl. I rinsed the bowl out sufficiently, but apparently forgot about the rocks. He was dead by dinner.
I still haven't lived down the murderous rampage and my family is still teasing me about the carnage. In spite of all this, Mac has asked if we can get some more crabs and another Betta but I'm not sure in good conscience I can deliberately go to the store and select any more creatures to be my next involuntary victims.
We already had the dog. We acquired him in Japan and must be a strong little ball of fluff as he is still living and breathing, though I frequently forget to feed and water him until he scratches and sneezes at his food bowls in a canine attempt to communicate that, "Hey, Stupid! I know you don't like to cook all the time, but I don't have a drivers license and can't go through the Mickey D's drive-through so I'm completely dependent upon your lazy ass to keep me alive!" And then I tell Mackenzie to feed him.
I think the death-toll is somewhere around 8 fish and 2 aquatic crabs.
Anyway, Dillon wanted a snake. We said, "No way in Hell." He counter-offered with a ferret (refer back to answer #1), and then came up with the lizard idea. So we went and looked at them. He came home with a Chinese Water Dragon and all the required accessories (including a container of live crickets which must be refilled on a weekly basis - ewww). His name is Stanley, and though I was in charge of his well-being all summer long, he is still with us.
My problem seems to lie in the aquatic realm.
Mackenzie wanted an aquarium. We bought her a 5-gallon freshwater with 5 or 6 fish. None of the original fish are still living, though that's not entirely my fault. We brought home a fish with "Ick", who infected all of the others, who then, one by one, slowly kicked the bucket despite my best efforts at marine veterinary science and a product called "Ick-Away". We also bought a couple of teeny-tiny brown crabs. We had to put them in a decorative shallow glass bowl because they kept scaling the filter and climbing out the back. And then I'd have to chase them down. And sometimes I'd have to wait stealthily outside Mac's bookcase until they came peeking back out, thinking all was safe, and then I'd whomp a tupperware over the top of them. So finally, they ended up in the glass bowl on the coffee table where everyone could enjoy them and the sides were too slippery to perform a Birdman of Alcatraz. Until one died and the other molted. And I wanted to get a peek at the renewed crab and lifted up a corner of the rock it was hiding under, at which point it (obviously) scooted further under the rock, and then the rock slipped out of my hands. And I squished it.
And then I made Tiny-Little-Crabcakes.
We also bought a Betta for the kitchen. He lasted about 2 weeks. Until I washed out his bowl with Palmolive (which I totally know you're not supposed to do but did it anyway) and he died.
Then we bought a pop-eyed goldfish for the same bowl. I rinsed the bowl out sufficiently, but apparently forgot about the rocks. He was dead by dinner.
I still haven't lived down the murderous rampage and my family is still teasing me about the carnage. In spite of all this, Mac has asked if we can get some more crabs and another Betta but I'm not sure in good conscience I can deliberately go to the store and select any more creatures to be my next involuntary victims.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
You Make Grilled Cheese For Dinner, Right?
"Elaine" stayed for dinner tonight.
When I got home from work, I looked in the freezer and all I had was venison (nah), pork chops (all pork-chopped out, thankyouverymuch), and 3 tupperwares of frozen chicken noodle soup. As I didn't have any aspirations towards cooking tonight At All*, I decided it would be Soup and Sandwich Night at La Casa. So I whipped up some grilled cheese sandwiches while heating up the soup (and a left-over pork chop from 2 nights ago for Dillon, who eats more than your average human) and called the troops down. As I was cooking the last sandwich, I heard Elaine telling Dillon (in the most innocent and super-sweet 15-year-old way) that "her mom never cooks like this and always has like 5 things to eat. She never makes grilled cheese for Dinner".
I've always had grilled cheese for dinner. It's like a Family Tradition. Tuna, Grilled Cheese, Fried Egg Sandwich... all acceptable dinner fare in The House of Mounce. But now it occurs to me: are not all families like that? Do some people actually have a Real, Well-Rounded, All-Food-Groups-Represented, Dinner Every Single Night?
*Come to think of it, I didn't feel like cooking last night either and we had Tuna Sandwiches. Hmmm...
As Dillon took her home, I got to wondering... I've always known that we Parent differently than most people, and I've always attributed it mostly to our being younger than our parent-peers, but now, as I approach 40, I am realizing that in fact, we (mostly me) Are different. I don't think in a bad way; I hope in a Fun, Open, non-therapy-inducing way, but it's interesting to see how the teenagers react to us. As opposed to little kids, who are pretty much accepting of everyone.
I asked him, when he got home, "Are we weird?"
"Yes."
"Bad Weird?"
He got a smile on his face. "Actually, as we were walking down the steps, she said, 'I like them.'"
And I am relieved. "Weird" is ok. "Embarrassing" is not.
When I got home from work, I looked in the freezer and all I had was venison (nah), pork chops (all pork-chopped out, thankyouverymuch), and 3 tupperwares of frozen chicken noodle soup. As I didn't have any aspirations towards cooking tonight At All*, I decided it would be Soup and Sandwich Night at La Casa. So I whipped up some grilled cheese sandwiches while heating up the soup (and a left-over pork chop from 2 nights ago for Dillon, who eats more than your average human) and called the troops down. As I was cooking the last sandwich, I heard Elaine telling Dillon (in the most innocent and super-sweet 15-year-old way) that "her mom never cooks like this and always has like 5 things to eat. She never makes grilled cheese for Dinner".
I've always had grilled cheese for dinner. It's like a Family Tradition. Tuna, Grilled Cheese, Fried Egg Sandwich... all acceptable dinner fare in The House of Mounce. But now it occurs to me: are not all families like that? Do some people actually have a Real, Well-Rounded, All-Food-Groups-Represented, Dinner Every Single Night?
*Come to think of it, I didn't feel like cooking last night either and we had Tuna Sandwiches. Hmmm...
As Dillon took her home, I got to wondering... I've always known that we Parent differently than most people, and I've always attributed it mostly to our being younger than our parent-peers, but now, as I approach 40, I am realizing that in fact, we (mostly me) Are different. I don't think in a bad way; I hope in a Fun, Open, non-therapy-inducing way, but it's interesting to see how the teenagers react to us. As opposed to little kids, who are pretty much accepting of everyone.
I asked him, when he got home, "Are we weird?"
"Yes."
"Bad Weird?"
He got a smile on his face. "Actually, as we were walking down the steps, she said, 'I like them.'"
And I am relieved. "Weird" is ok. "Embarrassing" is not.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Bethesda Rocks!
No Military-Medicine-induced-frustrations today...
We were in at 1:00, out at 1:15... (had to wait about half an hour for the meds, but...) we were home by 2:30, even after stopping for a Starbucks.
I am still amazed. We lucked out at the pharmacy. I forgot to use Tara's trick and pick up my pharmacy number on the way in, so the first number we got was about 40 customers off and had a wait of an hour and fifteen minutes. But as we were walking away from the counter we saw an abandoned number only 10 away from the number being served! We scored! Dillon snagged it while I was deciding whether or not to claim it as mine with a look that said, "Jeez, Mom! Did you just fall off the Turnip Truck?"
Within 30 minutes he had the Accutane in his grubby little hands and FINALLY (!) we are on the way to clear and acne-free skin.
Ironically, Mackenzie's face has been breaking out for the last week or so. The Teen Misery Demons are not done with La Casa de Pooh yet...
We were in at 1:00, out at 1:15... (had to wait about half an hour for the meds, but...) we were home by 2:30, even after stopping for a Starbucks.
I am still amazed. We lucked out at the pharmacy. I forgot to use Tara's trick and pick up my pharmacy number on the way in, so the first number we got was about 40 customers off and had a wait of an hour and fifteen minutes. But as we were walking away from the counter we saw an abandoned number only 10 away from the number being served! We scored! Dillon snagged it while I was deciding whether or not to claim it as mine with a look that said, "Jeez, Mom! Did you just fall off the Turnip Truck?"
Within 30 minutes he had the Accutane in his grubby little hands and FINALLY (!) we are on the way to clear and acne-free skin.
Ironically, Mackenzie's face has been breaking out for the last week or so. The Teen Misery Demons are not done with La Casa de Pooh yet...
Monday, November 07, 2005
"It's Got Bows."
She opened the box and said, "It's got bows." She didn't know what "it" was yet, but she knew it had fuzzy bows.
I said, "It's a dress coat for you. From Wago (my mom)."
(Blank Stare.)
"You'll be really glad to have this when we go to the Christmas Concert at the Kennedy Center."
"Do I have to wear a dress?"
If she wasn't such a shit, she'd say "thank you, Wago", but as she is (a shit), I'll have to say it for her until she has to get dressed up and then feels like a princess getting off the Metro, in the City, wearing her new jacket.
Thank You, Mama! I love you!
I said, "It's a dress coat for you. From Wago (my mom)."
(Blank Stare.)
"You'll be really glad to have this when we go to the Christmas Concert at the Kennedy Center."
"Do I have to wear a dress?"
If she wasn't such a shit, she'd say "thank you, Wago", but as she is (a shit), I'll have to say it for her until she has to get dressed up and then feels like a princess getting off the Metro, in the City, wearing her new jacket.
Thank You, Mama! I love you!
The B
Maybe you don't know Mackenzie. If you do, then you know that she sets very high standards for herself and others, and expects them to be met. She has very little patience for idiocy.
I just returned from her Parent-Teacher Conference. Her teacher started out by asking if I had any concerns or if there was anything I'd like her to know.
As a matter of fact.....
"You need to know that Tara drives Mackenzie insane. She can't stand to be around her. Tara does and says things that Mackenzie can't understand and it makes her completely freaked out. So last week, when Tara sat at Mackenzie's desk during Math (while Mac was in another classroom) and rearranged it, and wrote on it, and used her scissors to cut up a piece of paper and leave it scattered about her floor, she completely lost it. Could you please not have Tara sit at her desk anymore?"
About halfway through this tirade/request, she started grimacing and nodding and looking terribly sympathetic. She said that the 5th grade team has issues with Tara and no one knows what to do with her (I've got a few ideas, but I'll just keep them to myself) and understands how Mac feels. She will maybe have to turn around the desk when Tara is visiting.
And then she told me how another 5th grade teacher gave Mac a "B". In reading. And yup, there it was, right in the middle of all those A's lined up like soldiers on her report card.
"Oh, no, you didn't give her a B in reading."
"Well, Miss Blah-Blah did, but it means that her comprehension is good, she's just not making inferences from what she reads. She's still at grade level."
At which point I looked at this (very nice, just out of diapers, still has callouses from where she sucked her thumb) teacher like she had 2 heads.
"She's always read several grades above her level. Reading is her favorite subject. She is going to Freak Out. I'm not going to tell her."
"Well, you can call Ms. Blah-Blah if you want."
And I gave her the look that says, "And say what to her? You change my baby's grade to an A right this very instant young lady! Or else!"?
I just cannot fathom how in kindergarten, and in first grade, and in second grade, and in third grade, and in fourth grade, she has ALWAYS gotten A's in reading, but all of a sudden, in 5th grade, she's not performing. She's read around 25 books this year. All above her "grade level". I could understand if "something" were going on and all of her grades went down. Maybe she is stressed, or the Virginia school system is too hard* (snicker-snicker) but that is Clearly Not The Case.
So, my plan is to be "That Mom" who thinks that the reading teacher is Wrong, and just ignore the fact that she got a B. (I could just lie and tell her she got all A's...) I will not call the teacher. How foolish would that be? ( "Mac is real smart...please give her an A so you don't hurt her feelin's.") No, the plan is to not say anything and maybe she'll never find out. Even if I did tell her, I'd have to include how Stupid her reading teacher obviously is and how it's not her fault that her teacher is so Stupid and obviously Wrong and even in my alternative parenting style I try not to criticize her teachers too often.
Much better to lie to her about her grade. Excellent plan!
*These folks here in Fairfax County, they sure are proud of their schoolin'. They all told me how my chillins, coming from Californy and Japan and Inni-ana, would prob'ly have a rough time of it round these parts, them Virginians bein' so smarts and alls! Why it be's hard for us countryfied corn-fed Military types to understand all this culture and shit they got here! Good thing we gots the Discovery Channel and the History Channel, so when my lil tots be done with all the homework from their's AP and Honor's classes and makin' A's and shit in math and science, they can get caught up on theirs learnin'!
(Late Parental Edit 6.30.06 - This was the only "B" on her report card.)
I just returned from her Parent-Teacher Conference. Her teacher started out by asking if I had any concerns or if there was anything I'd like her to know.
As a matter of fact.....
"You need to know that Tara drives Mackenzie insane. She can't stand to be around her. Tara does and says things that Mackenzie can't understand and it makes her completely freaked out. So last week, when Tara sat at Mackenzie's desk during Math (while Mac was in another classroom) and rearranged it, and wrote on it, and used her scissors to cut up a piece of paper and leave it scattered about her floor, she completely lost it. Could you please not have Tara sit at her desk anymore?"
About halfway through this tirade/request, she started grimacing and nodding and looking terribly sympathetic. She said that the 5th grade team has issues with Tara and no one knows what to do with her (I've got a few ideas, but I'll just keep them to myself) and understands how Mac feels. She will maybe have to turn around the desk when Tara is visiting.
And then she told me how another 5th grade teacher gave Mac a "B". In reading. And yup, there it was, right in the middle of all those A's lined up like soldiers on her report card.
"Oh, no, you didn't give her a B in reading."
"Well, Miss Blah-Blah did, but it means that her comprehension is good, she's just not making inferences from what she reads. She's still at grade level."
At which point I looked at this (very nice, just out of diapers, still has callouses from where she sucked her thumb) teacher like she had 2 heads.
"She's always read several grades above her level. Reading is her favorite subject. She is going to Freak Out. I'm not going to tell her."
"Well, you can call Ms. Blah-Blah if you want."
And I gave her the look that says, "And say what to her? You change my baby's grade to an A right this very instant young lady! Or else!"?
I just cannot fathom how in kindergarten, and in first grade, and in second grade, and in third grade, and in fourth grade, she has ALWAYS gotten A's in reading, but all of a sudden, in 5th grade, she's not performing. She's read around 25 books this year. All above her "grade level". I could understand if "something" were going on and all of her grades went down. Maybe she is stressed, or the Virginia school system is too hard* (snicker-snicker) but that is Clearly Not The Case.
So, my plan is to be "That Mom" who thinks that the reading teacher is Wrong, and just ignore the fact that she got a B. (I could just lie and tell her she got all A's...) I will not call the teacher. How foolish would that be? ( "Mac is real smart...please give her an A so you don't hurt her feelin's.") No, the plan is to not say anything and maybe she'll never find out. Even if I did tell her, I'd have to include how Stupid her reading teacher obviously is and how it's not her fault that her teacher is so Stupid and obviously Wrong and even in my alternative parenting style I try not to criticize her teachers too often.
Much better to lie to her about her grade. Excellent plan!
*These folks here in Fairfax County, they sure are proud of their schoolin'. They all told me how my chillins, coming from Californy and Japan and Inni-ana, would prob'ly have a rough time of it round these parts, them Virginians bein' so smarts and alls! Why it be's hard for us countryfied corn-fed Military types to understand all this culture and shit they got here! Good thing we gots the Discovery Channel and the History Channel, so when my lil tots be done with all the homework from their's AP and Honor's classes and makin' A's and shit in math and science, they can get caught up on theirs learnin'!
(Late Parental Edit 6.30.06 - This was the only "B" on her report card.)
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Overheard During Dinner
Paige: "I think I want a new camera for Christmas."
Tater: "Why?"
"Because you won't let me use yours."
"Yes I will."
"Not to take it anywhere. Like to Indiana for my reunion, for example."
(Point for Paige.)
"What kind?"
"Something better than what I've got (a Sony Cyber-Shot). How about that Canon Rebel?"
"You don't want that."
"Why not?"
"It's an SLR."
"So."
"So it's heavy and shit. You don't like carrying heavy stuff."
(Keeping this one within my inner monologue... "Well, concerning TV's and luggage, that's true, but I think I could handle a camera...")
Paige: "I could get a bag."
"Where would you put your wallet?"
"In the bag."
"There won't be room."
"Think of all the shit you put in your bag!"
"Yeah, and it's really heavy."
(Getting frustrated.)
"You'd need lenses."
"Yes."
"That's a lot of money."
(Inner monologue: "Which is why I'm asking for it for Christmas.")
Tater: "It would be stupid to have two different systems with parts that aren't interchangeable. (He has a fancy Nikon.)"
(Inner monologue again: "But I'm not allowed to use your camera anyway...")
Paige: "I've grown out of my point-and-shoot."
"I agree with that, but....blah blah blah..." ...lots of stuff that sounded like I wouldn't be capable of operating all those buttons and switches and talk that just lead to me being pissed off.
Which only makes me want it more.
Tater: "Why?"
"Because you won't let me use yours."
"Yes I will."
"Not to take it anywhere. Like to Indiana for my reunion, for example."
(Point for Paige.)
"What kind?"
"Something better than what I've got (a Sony Cyber-Shot). How about that Canon Rebel?"
"You don't want that."
"Why not?"
"It's an SLR."
"So."
"So it's heavy and shit. You don't like carrying heavy stuff."
(Keeping this one within my inner monologue... "Well, concerning TV's and luggage, that's true, but I think I could handle a camera...")
Paige: "I could get a bag."
"Where would you put your wallet?"
"In the bag."
"There won't be room."
"Think of all the shit you put in your bag!"
"Yeah, and it's really heavy."
(Getting frustrated.)
"You'd need lenses."
"Yes."
"That's a lot of money."
(Inner monologue: "Which is why I'm asking for it for Christmas.")
Tater: "It would be stupid to have two different systems with parts that aren't interchangeable. (He has a fancy Nikon.)"
(Inner monologue again: "But I'm not allowed to use your camera anyway...")
Paige: "I've grown out of my point-and-shoot."
"I agree with that, but....blah blah blah..." ...lots of stuff that sounded like I wouldn't be capable of operating all those buttons and switches and talk that just lead to me being pissed off.
Which only makes me want it more.
Rain, Rain, Go Outside
Remember THIS? When my house was leaking from the third floor onto the second?
This week it's leaking from the second floor onto the first.
Seriously.
About a week ago Mac noticed that there were "funny lines" around the can light in the basement. The dad investigated and found that it was water. Water. In the light. Sooooo not ok.
So he unscrewed the lightbulb and let it be. (He was busy.)
Then a few days later, it started raining from another nearby light. After I did the dishes on the 2nd floor. And then again after Dillon flushed the toilet on the 3rd floor.
So the dad cut a hole in the ceiling, exposing a teeny-tiny copper pipe with a drip hanging precariously off the bottom of it.
And put a bucket under the drip.
For a couple days.
But now he has a clamp on it...
...and it seems to be working. But for how long is anyone's guess and regardless, I still have a big-ole nasty hole in my ceiling:
Again.
This week it's leaking from the second floor onto the first.
Seriously.
About a week ago Mac noticed that there were "funny lines" around the can light in the basement. The dad investigated and found that it was water. Water. In the light. Sooooo not ok.
So he unscrewed the lightbulb and let it be. (He was busy.)
Then a few days later, it started raining from another nearby light. After I did the dishes on the 2nd floor. And then again after Dillon flushed the toilet on the 3rd floor.
So the dad cut a hole in the ceiling, exposing a teeny-tiny copper pipe with a drip hanging precariously off the bottom of it.
And put a bucket under the drip.
For a couple days.
But now he has a clamp on it...
...and it seems to be working. But for how long is anyone's guess and regardless, I still have a big-ole nasty hole in my ceiling:
Again.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Kids Gone Wild
Mackenzie:
Dillon:
Dillon's Friends:
Mackenzie went trick-or-treating with friends too, but I forgot to take a picture of them. Duh. It was easier to remember to take a picture of D and his friends as they were loitering around my kitchen and eating pizza.
Oh yeah, and these...
"I am SO humiliated."
"My eyes are burning you with the intensity of 10 blazing suns."
"What? You said I was a Good Dog? Treats for Taiko?"
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Homecoming
Homecoming was last night. This is how great Dillon looks in a suit. And there's his girlfriend, "Elaine", and those are his friends:
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Queen of Procrastination
Wrote out Halloween cards about 2 weeks ago. They're still sitting on my counter waiting to be addressed.
Typical.
Typical.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Olympic Hackey-Sacking
When you play hackey sack in your bedroom, you should cover your water...
It was like magic. He kicked it with his foot, it sailed over my head while I was fixing his computer, and swooshed right into his water glass with a soft little plink.
Couldn't do it again in a million years.
It was like magic. He kicked it with his foot, it sailed over my head while I was fixing his computer, and swooshed right into his water glass with a soft little plink.
Couldn't do it again in a million years.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Fogging Up The Windows
Took a nap. Now I can see. Still have a dull headache behind my eyeballs.
The Scene: Monday night, dark, rainy, 45 degrees. Dillon is at a Powderpuff Football game but it's getting late.
8:45
Mom on cellphone...
"Hey, Honey! Did you forget to come home?"
"Oh, no... the game is still going on but we're freezing and wet so we're coming home. We're heading to the car right now. I'll take 'Elaine' home and be right there."
9:00 - 9:25
Mom, wondering: "Hmmm... school is 4 minutes away, Elaine lives 5 blocks away..."
9:30 The phone rings (and sends me into the auto-mom-response-to-a-late-night-phone-call-when-the-teenager-is-out-with-the-car: pre-panic)
"Hey Mom, I'm in our parking space, but there is a weird arrow lit up on the dashboard."
"A weird arrow?"
"Yeah, it's orange. It's right under the speedometer."
Mom, thinking...thinking..what could that be?.....................
LIGHTBULB!
"Were you making out in the front seat?"
"Yes."
"You hit the button for "winter mode". By the gearshift. Push it again."
Pause. "Yup, that was it. It's gone."
And he lopes in with a grin.
I love that kid.
The Scene: Monday night, dark, rainy, 45 degrees. Dillon is at a Powderpuff Football game but it's getting late.
8:45
Mom on cellphone...
"Hey, Honey! Did you forget to come home?"
"Oh, no... the game is still going on but we're freezing and wet so we're coming home. We're heading to the car right now. I'll take 'Elaine' home and be right there."
9:00 - 9:25
Mom, wondering: "Hmmm... school is 4 minutes away, Elaine lives 5 blocks away..."
9:30 The phone rings (and sends me into the auto-mom-response-to-a-late-night-phone-call-when-the-teenager-is-out-with-the-car: pre-panic)
"Hey Mom, I'm in our parking space, but there is a weird arrow lit up on the dashboard."
"A weird arrow?"
"Yeah, it's orange. It's right under the speedometer."
Mom, thinking...thinking..what could that be?.....................
LIGHTBULB!
"Were you making out in the front seat?"
"Yes."
"You hit the button for "winter mode". By the gearshift. Push it again."
Pause. "Yup, that was it. It's gone."
And he lopes in with a grin.
I love that kid.
Stupid
If I got in my car and drove west for an hour, I'd be in 8 inches of snow.
Instead, I'm here, where it is 42 degrees and raining.
I hate Fall.
Instead, I'm here, where it is 42 degrees and raining.
I hate Fall.
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