Dancing Queen
2006-03-23, 2:18 p.m.

I am in an ABBA mood. No idea why, but I have found it�s dang near impossible to be in a foul mood when you�re being a dancing fool to �SOS�.

Went last week to my mom�s, and true to form, she wants badly to clear junk out of her house but cannot due to vapor lock. For instance, she wants to sort through her clothes (FOUR CLOSETS WORTH, two of those huge walk-ins), but she has to have an external rack first, so she can take out chunks of clothing at a time and hang them on the rack for sorting. Can we just lay them on the bed? Noooooooooooooooo. But not just any flimsy old rack, a NICE rack, a STURDY rack, which costs $59.99 (Martha must still have court costs to pay), and she�s not going to pay that kind of money for a rack, so therefore no clothes-sorting this time.

*sigh*

I did mow the front lawn, do a bit of kitchen scrubbing, and a lot of eating things I shouldn�t. I can still fit in my jeans so it�s not a total loss. The most important part of going was of course the visiting. Just being there. One day a miracle will strike out of the blue and I�ll get Mama to sort out some stuff that I can haul off to charity. As it is now, she has sighed and commented on how she just doesn�t know how I will handle all this stuff one day after she�s gone, to which I replied, �Simple. Arson.�

She wasn�t all that amused.

The sure-fire way to entertain a gaggle of teenagers? Fire up the �69 Camaro and take them for a ride. It�s mind-boggling how excited a bunch of kids get over a car. A mighty sweeeeeeet car, but still, a car. Daughter had a sleepover, so Hubby and I charged the battery and Daughter and her friends pounced in and off we went. The girls had a Long List Of By Whom They Must Be Seen In The Camaro, so we rumbled and growled up to a few homes so they could hop out and ring the doorbell and be giggly and hop back in and do it again. Then we went by Happy Emo Kid�s house so her brother could ride. The girls had to wait inside because there were 4 of them and the car holds 5, max. They ran inside, and 4.3 seconds later her brother and his buddy emerged...it was like Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon (or Crouching Dragon Hidden Tiger, whatever, I forget which critter does what)...one leap from the front step, completely airborne to the passenger door.
�Canidriveit?� No.
�Canidriveit?� No.
�Canidriveit?� No.
�Canidriveit?� No.
�Canidriveit?� No.
�Howfastdoesitgo?� We�re not finding out tonight.
�Openherupletsseehowfastshegoes.� �Like she�s going to do that in a residental neighborhood, you dork!�
�Gotothishouseandrevtheengine!� Ok.
And might I say the Camaro has two volumes: Growl loud, and growl LOUDER. A few more engine revs and they probably would have married the car. When they get their licenses, look out.

Son is at it again at school. Got his panties in a wad during math class and handled it by throwing a fit and yelling something about blowing up the school and killing the teachers. Thank God the school considers the source, and knows that all of Son�s social skills and much of his speech are pure parrotting. Sometime, somewhere, from the news or even another kid, Son�s brain programmed those words as the default response to becoming frustrated during school, and it�s going to take time and effort to delete that and reprogram an appropriate response. The aides are also going to pay closer attention to his body language and when he�s withdrawing or getting frantic, pull him out to the time out room where he can pull himself together in blissful solitude. Defuse the little red bomb BEFORE he explodes.

Give me a moment, I could come up with a few more unrelated analogies and mixed metaphors, but �Mr. Roboto� is playing on my iTunes mix and I have to get up and do a cheesy dance and sing along.

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