We didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition
2005-05-18, 10:48 a.m.

Year-round school is about the most effective medieval torture device ever created, except that it�s not medieval and not specifically designed for torture, but torture it is. Torture for Son, torture for me. Today is Daughter�s last day of 5th grade, now she can get her groove on until August 4th. Groove includes long loud laborious rounds of �NYAH nyah nyah NYAH nyah� at her brother because he�s imprisoned until June 7th. I don�t forsee much productivity on his part in the near future.

I did grant him bail on the 4th grade program this coming Monday. Some of you may recall his jailbreak from performing arts awhile back, where he convinced a substitute teacher that he had been banned from art class forever, just so he could avoid going to performing arts. I got a small clue then that he really isn�t into school plays, and since he is something like Ambiguous Zoo Animal #72 amongst a clot of other ambiguous zoo animals his non-presence won�t be felt. Still, I had to shell out five bucks for the t-shirts, because the school ordered them and THEN demanded the money from the parents. That�s the other hallmark of year-round school, only the rich kids, the overachievers, and my kid attend. My kid is there because of the autism program, which is good, but why break up an autistic child�s routine with three-week breaks? Doesn�t that go against the whole keeping-them-in-the-routine thing? As for fitting in, we�re certainly not rich or overachievers, we just play that on tv. Clear enunciation can make anyone think you�re thisclose with Bill G@tes. Whatever, just ignore the Km@rt clothing and buy me lunch. I�m shallow like that.

Hubby and GroovyGuru sallied forth last night on the tree house construction. Three hours of consultation and labor, and they installed:

One board.

One. Board.

But it is a very good board.

Yesterday in the car Son was blathering on about video-game-du-jour and how hard it is and there�s one character that he hasn�t been able to beat because it has these ginormous powers and how frustrated he is because �IT�S KICKING MY ASS.�

That little morsel prompted the Mom-in-the-driver�s-seat-180 where I got a visage of red hair, REALLY big eyes, and a hand clamped over the offending mouth. Daughter was glorious in the front seat, thrilled to be up close and personal with the impending execution, sorely disappointed when all I managed to do was call their father and leave him a lengthy voice mail detailing how it�s all HIS fault. Because it is. Yeah.

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Popping back on with a li�l update, because I just bit the proverbial bullet and got a gold membership. Guestbook and all that forthcoming. Forgive me Sunnflower, yes I�m a bit slow on the uptake, not to mention cheap, but at long last I�ve conceded. Not to mention that after 3 or 4 page visits half my template disappears due to too much bandwidth consumption. Cheap quickly turns into crap.. time to shell out and get all fancy and sh*t.

I�m also taking time out from laundry and my fourth cup of coffee in a row to register a gripe (surprise, surprise). Hubby needed clothes. I trudged forth and procured nice clothing. He got all hot and bothered over the Columbi@ sportswear, so that�s what I bought. 9 million pieces of crap in his closet, so of course he ignored those and did heavy yard work in his brand new Lookit-me-I�m-a-Yuppie-but-I�m-so-outdoorsy $20 t-shirt, the one supposed to be worn under the Lookit-me-I�m-a-Yuppie-but-I�m-a-badass-fisherman $40 button-down and never meant to really be worn in the great outdoors. This stuff is supposed to be fantasy wear for engineers and cubicle jockeys. Instead, I�m washing a giant $20 grass stain.

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