Ho. Ho. Ho.
2004-12-11, 11:26 a.m.

On this whatEVER day of Christmas, so far
December�s brought to me:

Two kids with pink eye,
Maybe we�ll get the house, maybe we won�t,
This AFTER we�ve bought new furniture,
Severe thunderstorms with hail
And the resulting weather-induced migraine,
Three major school projects
(One announced by child the day before the due date),
Many trips for poster board,
A live hornet in my tennis shoe
Discovered AFTER inserting foot,
One benign lesion removal and
Nine stitches in my arm,
One wrecked car (not my fault),
Father-in-law in the hospital
And will then have to go into a nursing home,
And a very big, enormous Visa bill.

Ho, ho, humbug.

*insert groveling*
Infinite thanks to GroovyGuru, the social studies salvation. Daughter announced on a Monday night that her big Civil War project was due Wednesday morning, leaving us one day to work on it. He is a Confederate reenactor and graciously loaded up Daughter with authentic Rebel garb and gear, much to the delight of her social studies teacher. That, combined with a hastily made poster of her Civil War ancestry, garnered her a grade of 100. And she proudly announced to the class that Guru is a Civil War reanimator. Beware the zombies; the Rebels shall rise again�

Someone who shall remain anonymous but whose initials begin with TheDevlyn, managed to barter for me yesterday via IMs with Hubby. Perchance I shall be gifted to his girlfriend as her personal handmaiden or something for Christmas, all for the low low price of two bags of flour and a good axe. I feel so valuable. Must go practice my curtsey for milady, and to wield that axe in Hubby�s direction. If this falls through he�ll probably list me on eB@y. I don�t think I have much trade-in value this month, so someone out there will get a steal.

Why was Hubby on the computer? Why have I not been? Other than the incredible teetering piles of crapola that have been shadowing my existence as of late, Hubby has discovered Snood. Yes, Snood. The most annoying game in the Universe. The cartoonish Tetris-ish complete and utter waste of time that has sucked away any chance of commandeering the computer for my own purposes. I am hoping that soon Hubby will experience Snood overload and go mutter to himself in the bathroom or something, relinquishing the family computer to my capable snoodless hands for more than three minutes at a time. His brother is the introductory culprit, another hopeless Snood addict who shall get a holiday gift of coal from this Snood widow.

Regarding the above-mentioned wrecked car, this past Monday was the first anniversary of the purchase of said car, so I should have seen it coming. I was fully stopped in the school dropoff lane, car in park, Daughter about to make a hasty exit, when WHAM! The Ford Behemothpedition directly in front made a tragic connection with my front end, all because the driver did not look behind her before throwing her tank into reverse. She admitted such to the nice police officers, and her insurance should fully cover the repairs and a rental car. The repairs that the body shop cannot make until the week of January 3rd. So until then, I�m scooting around in a semi-mangle mobile. At least nobody was hurt. My Tums consumption has increased dramatically, but nobody got squashed. Many prayers of thanks to God that no child was trying to pass between our vehicles to reach the sidewalk when the accident occurred.

A friend of a friend who is a children�s advocate called me the other day to get information about Asperger�s Syndrome. She is about to go to court regarding the guardianship of a recently diagnosed child. She asked if I would be willing to testify in court as an �expert� on Asperger�s, by way of my life as a parent of a completely different and differently gifted child. Yes, but� Me? Court? *panic* :::::::::thud:::::::::

This phone call somehow led to a conversation with Hubby about the "outside the box" clich�. Most who overuse that stupid phrase remain firmly inserted in the box while spewing their rhetoric. However, we have decided as proper parenting procedures for our special little Son, we had to jettison from the box years ago in an escape pod, plot it's trajectory, and obliterate the box with photon torpedoes. Life with Son is anything but dull.

La la la la la, I am approaching my Reality Limit and must return to my happy place. See you all there�

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