I can not believe that it’s Dec. 22nd. I can’t keep up with email. I can’t keep up with my blog roll, try as I might. I can’t keep up with anything. Our Christmas plans are changing at the last second. It’s something that neither Ray or I do well with. We very begrudgingly roll with the punches. That’s what we’re trying to do though. Before I disappear… no internet… no cell phone… no facebook…no blogger… I need to catch you up.
I survived the parties at the school…barely. Way back in Virginia, moms made their own cupcakes. They tried to outdo each other with elaborate baking. You may remember I posted my own shot at glory with turkey cupcakes one year. Anyway, thank goodness a friend warned me at the last second…only store bought goods for this school. I had the absolute greatest plans for a melting snowman cookie to go with the donated ice cream. I very begrudgingly changed my plan mid stream. I was going to save the budget a ton of dough with those cookies. Good thing I changed the plan too. As I stood waiting to be allowed to go to the classroom, one mom was ranting and raving that another mom at another party had placed veggies on a tray with dip. I really don’t think she could know if it was store bought dip or not. It got heated.
After spending a day at the school last week I decided most of the Moms fit into very particular categories. There were the Rock Stars. They had on six inch heels and bedazzled tank tops, I kid you not. There are the Cowgirls who refuse to go anywhere without their boots, most still had the manure caked on. There were the Working Girls, career women who feel the need to tell you ever second how important their job is but they still took the time to come to the party. The Betty Crockers, these are the women who once had serious careers but now are forced to live vicariously through their children and make sure you know just how important their child is. Then there are the trophy wives who barely have time to show up between waxings and tanning at the local salon. They are dripping in jewelry and Louis Vuitton. I know I’m not a Rock Star, there’s no manure on my shoes unless maybe Tucker’s on an old pair of crocs, I don’t work outside the home, clearly I’m not a trophy. I love my children but I have other things going on too so I’m having a difficult time find my niche. I think I’m happy about that.
In other, not school related news, Arleigh had a kick butt birthday party that I think I might have enjoyed even more than she did. The parents were jumping, sliding and hitting the obstacle course too. Even Grandma went down the huge slide like 6 times. That night, laying in bed, I looked at Ray and said, “Honey I think I tore my rotator cuff.” He asked how. I told him I went head first (which incidentally isn’t allowed) down part of the obstacle course, I landed on my shoulder. He reminded me that the move was illegal and I should stew in my own juices so to speak.
I think my husband my prefer my hair to be salt and pepper as to the over dyed color of an Elvira wig that it is right now. Why can’t I find a good color for my hair? Getting old sucks.
My mother’s new puppy makes me ache for a puppy with sharp little teeth and puppy breath. He also makes me want to run from every dog I see.
I saw a huge bob cat today. Huge I tell you, right off a main road in Memphis. He was chilling in the sun. I freaked a touch. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one out in the open, like twenty years or so. I love to see big huge animals from the safety of a nice big truck.
The last but most exciting news… our fingerprint appointment is over. I went in bristled for a fight. They were overwhelmingly nice and funny. The security guards were practically putting on a show. One step closer to the little man made for a wonderful Christmas gift.
I hope you have a wonderful safe happy merry Christmas, and we can all catch up if I’m ever at home again.