And Now We Resume Our Regularly Scheduled Programming
2005-05-02, 9:53 a.m.

Well, the maternal unit and her significant other are back in SC after a 4 � day visit. Pre-visit: Sunny, cloudless, and 80 degrees. Minute they stepped out of the van into my driveway: Thunderstorms, violent wind gusts, and freezing temps. Whole time they�re here: Thunderstorms, violent wind gusts, and freezing temps. When they left yesterday: Sunny, cloudless, and 70 degrees.

The weather wasn�t a deterrent to my mother�s favorite activity; not even the Apocalypse will keep Mama from the mall. We hit the 6am Super Ticket-Holders Only Mega Ripoff Blaster Sale at her favorite department store so she could buy clothes she doesn�t need and I bought clothes for Hubby that he sorta needs and two pairs of shoes for me that I desperately need. (I desperately need lots of stuff, including that Tiki Bar at Sp*ncer�s. Thanks, Stacy. Thanks a lot.) I bought Hubby some shirts that he doesn�t much need, but not pants that he really needs, because he�s had a recent growth spurt which prompted a friend/coworker to call him �Fat Ass� and he�s sworn off everything except air and coffee until he can squeeze himself into his 38�s without rupturing his innards. He can pronounce loudly to no one in particular that he intends to lose weight, do much of nothing, and Whammo! 20 pounds will evaporate in a week. I can tell everyone I know that I am eating healthy and exercising and those same 20 pounds will stalk me, creeping, mugging my posterior and burrowing into my thighs. It would be nice for once in my life to be a LOSER in the proper sense.

The highlight of their visit was steaks at the Casa de Guru, and for dessert Son�s Freudian not-so-slip. After dinner, Son did his usual plea for Guru III to come spend the night with us. I told him not that night, we already had a house full. He told his buddy they couldn�t have a sleepover, (*insert exasperated tone*) �Thanks to my grandparents�. All that, and they STILL gave the little ingrate $20. Pushovers.

Gotta hand it to Son, he says whatever�s on his whirring little mind, political correctness be damned. He has a procedure chart for school, with his day divided into half-hour increments; if he does what he�s supposed to do, he earns a check. 11 out of 14 checks per day earns him a P0kemon card, 5 days in a row earns other rewards. Printed on top of the chart are his daily expectations, which, in addition to actually doing his work, are thus:
Positive Attitude: I will make positive statements in class, such as �This is great�, or �I finished my work�, or I will say nothing at all. I will not say things like �This is stupid�, or, �I don�t have time for this.�
That�s my boy.

He had a really good week last week, announcing it proudly on Friday when his grandmother and I picked him up from school. He said, �I have a couple of x�s, but don�t worry �bout it.� I noticed they were all right before lunch. Never thought he�d be that excited over school lunch. Told you my child is different.

Daughter�s orchestra concert went without a hitch, and the kids rivaled some big-time orchestras. Yep, they�re good. In a couple of weeks, though, we have to endure the solo recitals for the viola tutor. I want to hear my girl and then split. Hubby tells me that would be rude. I�m with Son, sometimes manners suck.

Everybody�s writing about the runaway bride, so guess I�ll put in my 2 cent�s worth. Notice what all the news reports say: The girl called home after a few days when she was OUT OF MONEY, and only then did she decide to call her financier�I mean, fianc�e�and her parents. Oh yeah, I can just imagine that call� �Hi Mommy and Daddy and Rather Witless Almost-Husband, I skipped town because I just couldn�t handle it all but I COULD handle a few days partying on a bus with 40 strangers but I�m out of cash, so sorry you just spent $1.2 million on my wedding, but I�m out of cash so I think I�ll go home now, ok?� She�s been planning this shindig since August, AUGUST, that�s 8 FREAKING MONTHS to decide things were getting a *little* out of hand and put the skids on it. She�s got 600 fewer friends now to invite to the sequel. If she really didn�t want the big ass wedding and it was the parents whipping the wedding into a frenzied bloated crescendo, she could have taken her fianc�e on the bus with her and got married by Elvis or something. Otherwise, just tell the guy �No,� hand him his cohunes and his wallet back, and move along. You do know he�s taking her back. I wonder which he misses more, the cohunes or the wallet, or if he even knows they�re gone.

Bet he sings soprano.

Awhile back the magnificent Sunnflower kindly asked if I might get one of those guestbook thingies so people can leave comments for individual entries. Well, I haven�t yet, for two reasons:
1. I�m cheap
2. I�m cheap
So if y�all could recommend a cheap (read: FREE) reliable, let me repeat, reliable, guestbook or notes feature, please drop me a line.

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