A Good Time Was Had By All
2004-10-24, 4:53 p.m.

An update on last Friday:

I was able to cram in most, but not all, things that needed to be done. The house looked fine except for the MASSIVE HOUSE-SWALLOWING ENORMOUS LOOMING pile of clean laundry to be folded and put away. I stashed it on the guest bed (the Very Large Guest Bed) in the computer room, and there it remains, mocking me. I�ll just consider it the great reserve in case we run out of clean things in the closets and drawers. Otherwise, errands were run, children were schooled, pets were petted, floors got de-yucked, and Sally got worn slap out.

Hubby put the largest kink into the day. GroovyGuru used our truck to haul the boat and Guru Jr. to a Boy Scout campout, as his vintage model is still out of commission. No problem, happy to be of service. I would haul Hubby to and from work on Friday. Still no problem. However, he wanted to be at work nearly an hour earlier than usual, so I told him the kids would need to be at school in time for breakfast. Otherwise, I�d have to rouse them at 4:30am for a bowl of cereal and they would not be amused. I told him we would have to leave no later than 6:15. He pshawed my crude mathematical reckonings and, being intellectually superior, proclaimed that we would leave at 6:45 and everything would be fine.

Problem.

We left at 6:45, after Hubby had a leisurely bowl of Cookie Crisp while watching cartoons, crammed the just-roused-and-hastily-dressed grouchy kids in the car, and set off. We arrived at Hubby�s work at the exact moment Daughter needed to be at school for breakfast. I slowed down just enough to eject Hubby from the car without causing serious injury, and sped off. Clock ticking�no time to get her there for breakfast. Detour to McHopeThey�reMcSpeedyThisMcMorning for a sausage �n� egg biscuit. For optimal locker-rummaging time before the bell, Daughter needs to be there at 7:30. We arrived at 7:32. Fine. Except that that�s when Son�s school breakfast started, and we still had to go all the way across town. You guessed it, major traffic. No McBiscuits; the closest thing was Burger K*ing, where we got some of The Devlyn�s favorite prefab French toast sticks, of which Son ate a grand total of 1 �. We pulled up in front of his school at 8:01. School begins at 8:00.

I was ready to kill Hubby. I was equally mad at me for not listening to that sensible little inner voice that was screaming at me not to cater to Hubby�s sense of time. Why? Because he has no sense of time, that�s why. That�s what moms (and wives) are for, doncha know, walking PalmPilots. Instead of batteries, ply me with mass quantities of coffee and I�m good to go. Well, he being the main breadwinner�the ONLY breadwinner�it was more important that he be on time. A minute or two late didn�t do any damage to our developing offspring. It bumped up my blood pressure a notch or two, but I�ll survive.

On a good note, I was the only mom who didn�t have trouble with directions finding the Girl Scout troop leader�s farm, where they camped overnight. Go me. Daughter was BUBBLING OVER with excitement and could have cared less about the lack of sanitary facilities. She did inform me when she got home from camping that she peed on her jeans every time. Guess how fast that load of clothes got washed? They made campfire stew and ate every bit, they made s�mores and ate every bit, they hiked and sat around the fire and all were asleep by midnight. And the weather was perfect.

Son was SO EXCITED about the principal and his son coming over. He laid out his Pokemon cards oh-so-carefully in display on the kitchen table, and kept his room spotless all afternoon. When they pulled in the driveway he was out there like a shot, practically hauling them from their car. Since Son can have soft-serve ice cream at restaurants with little fear of peanut interaction, Principal took the boys to R*yan�s for supper, with their huge buffet and dessert bar and 4 flavors of soft-serve. They proceeded to gorge themselves and were still groaning when Hubby and I got home. Hubby and I went to Outb*ack where we got outrageously large but perfectly cooked steaks, a beer for him and a Wallaby Darned for me. Oh my, those are soooo gooood. I behaved and stuck to just one, although a personal vat of the sweet slushy would have been preferable. Mmmmmmmmm, peachy. Then we stopped by the Disc Exch*ange and bought a few CD�s: a Prodigy offering for him, the (old) Buffy soundtrack for me, and Pink Panther�s Penthouse Party for the both of us. That last one is just TOO COOL. The artwork is by Shag, which multiplies the cool factor exponentially. I am going to figure out how to design templates and make me a Pink Panther one. Help?

OK, back to the matter at hand�Happy Hubby and happy me went home to a houseful of also happy albeit tired people playing Son�s version of Monopoly. He had removed the Chance and Community Chest cards and replaced them with Pokemon cards. Heaven knows what came after that. Oh well, everyone survived and survived happily and Son is going to ask Principal on Monday when he can babysit him again.

Tangent: While playing around on the Pink Panther site, I eventually made my way to this. My new checks. Must. Order.

So here it is Sunday afternoon, I�m still ignoring the laundry monster on the guest bed, Son is playing video games (what a surprise!), Daughter is on a church youth group outing, and Hubby is at work. Again. There is some big whoop-de-do data his boss needs by Tuesday morning, so Hubby worked most of the day yesterday and is working most of the day today to get it done. He works so hard, all the time, and I worry about him. At least now for him it�s enjoyable work, big mathy and engineery things and precise calculations and solving ginormous problems that send other people fleeing in fear. I have no doubt he�ll have everything done by Tuesday in spectacular fashion, so maybe Wednesday he can relax and enjoy his birthday. The big 3-9. We�re getting� oooooold.

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So, whaddaya think of the new layout? THANK YOU Raging Pistachio Designs! She has a gorgeous Stargate SG-1 template as well, and it was so hard to choose. This one encompasses not only my great love of sci fi, but my desperate need at times to go to that galaxy far, far away in order to ESCAPE. In another life, with overall better math instruction, I would have been an astrophysicist. And a darn good one. Alas, I'll just have to content myself with

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