Dear Diary,
This is a test to see if HTML and I get along any better yet. As far as I can tell from the number of edits that have proved necessary, the answer would be a resounding NO!!! Ah well, at least there's a page with something on it here now, whether it's right or not. Will work on it more once I've beaten Hellchild into submission for the day and stuffed his unconscious body on the bus.
Well, the back yard is cut. Finally. So are several of my knuckles. Being a reasonably cautious person, I went around before mowing, trailing a trash can behind me, picking up this and that potential hazard and getting them out of the way. But it's truly amazing what a bit of longish grass and last year's dead leaves can hide. The actual mowing turned out to be about as safe and healthy as your average Sunday afternoon stroll through an unmarked mine field. Even though I wasn't able to spot them, the mower had no trouble finding the sticks, rotten windfall apples, a couple of missing socks, a flat coke can, a tennis ball (boy do THOSE things fly a LONG way!), and assorted other detris. Thank goodness my mower has a Briggs & Stratton motor. No lesser machine could ever have survived that torture session.
I'm going to try the usual round of bribery and threats this afternoon to get HC and Demonspawn to rake. It won't work of course, but it should be good for a nice bitter argument and will give me an excuse to put off doing it myself until after our next few days of rain. As much as I love gardening, I really hate yard work. The reason I do it is because my boyfriend is allergic to cut grass (uh huh, but that doesn't explain why he doesn't take the garbage out), and I'm not. Well usually not. Must be stirring up TONS of pollen though, 'cause I've given up the breathing thing now.
Sorry for the lack of update yesterday. Not sure if it made national news, but Mother Nature decided that it's been too long since people around here ran screaming in terror and handed us an F5 tornado Sunday evening. While my home was not directly threatened, it flat tore up the area just south of here where I do most of my shopping that can't be done right here. So I sort of spent the day yesterday making sure none of the piles of matchsticks I was seeing on the news belonged to family/close friends. I'm sure you understand. The Red Cross, though their headquarters was destroyed along with lots of other stuff, is responding in its usual thorough fashion, lending aid and support to the families that were displaced. My thoughts and prayers are with slain, the injured, the now homeless, and all others touched by the disaster. I'm sure yours will be also. More later. Keep smiling!
So, the kids get home from school. Demonspawn appears on schedule. The bickering starts nearly as soon as the playing. Actually, I think the bickering started over the "what should we play" question. Mommy tell them to knock it off. They look at each other and parrot, "Yeah! Knock it off! SHE said!" Mommy sighs. Bickering continues. Mommy tells them to stop again. More parrot action. Mommy sighs. Bickering continues. Mommy tells HC to do some little something. HC in turn tells Demonspawn to do it. Demonspawn points out, none too politely, that HC was told to do it. More back and forth, between all combatants. Finally, Mommy sighs heavily and audibly. Hellchild looks at her, bright eyed and happy, but apparently with his sense of self-preservation kicking in. "Are you thinking about beating me now?" *Mommy gives up, stomping off to the kitchen, chanting in a droning monotone, "I love my children I love my children I love my children. . . "*
A few brief notes from the last week. First, my household hint for the week. If you have a new green scrubbie in your kitchen that is still stiff and difficult to use, just stuff it down the garbage disposal accidently, turn the garbage disposal on, then stand there for a couple of minutes scratching your head and thinking, "Okay, what the heck is that strange noise?" Turn the garbage disposal off, reach in and grab your green scrubbie. Now it's nice and pliable and easy to use.
We went out on Sunday. Arrived and had to park in a different time zone. Stood in line for 20 minutes to show our tickets (thoughtfully purchased in advance, so as to avoid lines) and get in. Took our stubs to a different building, stood in line for an additional 30 minutes to have our pictures taken and put on little cards. Got in a different line and stood for 15 minutes before we were told it was the wrong line and directed to a different building. Stood in line for 45 minutes, paid a lot of money, and were told we had to go back to the first building to stand in line again to have our little cards redone. This was clearly hit the "enough is enough" category, so I politely inquired if the additional line standing could be accomplished at some later date. Fortunately, the answer to that was yes. All this time HC is hanging off one arm, telling the world at large, loudly, "Can't we DO something??? I'm BORED!!!" Does anybody think all this is amusing?!?! I thought not. Then why on God's green Earth do they refer to Six Flags as an "amusement" park???!?!?!
Hellchild is tall enough this year to go on almost all the "thrill" rides, when accompanied by an adult. He also loves them. They make Mommy urpy. They make Mommy VERY urpy. It's going to be a VERY long summer. *sighs and chants in a droning monotone, "I love my children I love my children I love my children. . ."*
Okay, for the uninitiated, when you are sitting in the principal's office (again) with a nearly tearful and terribly pentitent (temporarily) Hellchild next to you, and you notice that your number is on the principal's speed dial list, you KNOW that's a bad sign. *sighs and begins chanting in a droning monotone, "I love my children I love my children I love my children. . ."