Moving Right Along
2004-09-27, 10:22 p.m.

So I was on the phone with a friend today, trying to schedule a lunch date, and discovered that once again I have a week too full of ODDS and ENDS to do it. Where does the time go? Don�t say �On Diaryland.� I churn out a few thoughts in a few minutes� time, as you can tell by the grammar (or lack thereof). There are a lot of nickel-and-dime activities such as this, but there are some big things going on this week as well.

Tomorrow. I am looking forward very much to tomorrow. Hubby and I and a friend are going to see The Cramps in concert. This isn�t one of those awful stadium concerts, this is at a venue that splits time between �regular� club/ �goth� club, has two sofas, one table, two chairs, a medium-sized dance floor, and tolerable selection of intoxicants. The Family Guru is herding our young�uns overnight so we can stay out and plaaaaaay. Our slavery to the Gurus will commence Wednesday morning.

What, pray tell, is the difference between the above mentioned �regular� versus �goth�? Best I can tell is the employees wear orange shirts and walk upright on �regular� nights, or wear black and lurk for the goth effect. Otherwise, same bat time, same bat channel. Tomorrow night is orange night. It�s also the night HUBBY has agreed to be the driver. I�m always, always, always the designated driver. A vital job, yes, but since when did I sign on permanent status? Nuh uh, MY turn to be a party girl. Once a decade ought to do it.

Wednesday. That will be spent feverishly getting this front computer/guest room immaculate before Mama and her Significant Other arrive for the weekend. This has been the repository for all the junk while we�ve been working on the living room and kitchen. Quite a few things are not returning to their normal hovels, but are heading straight into the Goodwill box. Getting rid of clutter is quite cathartic. Yeah, that sounds lame, but it really does feel good.

I must also return our rented videos to Megabuster before noon. Last week when we rented these I was met with a surprise late return fee of nearly $20 on our previous rental. Seems their policy is the stuff must be back by noon on the return date. As we stopped by after school, we were late. They were very nice and cancelled the fee, this time. Reason? Customer Is An Idiot Who Does Not Read Fine Print On Receipt.

Thursday. Mama�s birthday and the arrival of her and S.O. It�s also the day when the oxygen company man fills our home with survival gear for S.O. S.O.�s a great guy, my mom�s high school sweetheart. They drifted apart when he entered the service around 1950. My mom introduced him later to the gal who became his wife. He was widowed about 7 or 8 years ago, and hung out with my parents (one part of the Grey Brigade that my mother hauls around in her party van). After Daddy died last year, S.O. just sort of faded back into the picture as smoothly as he faded out all those years ago. It�s almost like they never were apart. My mother wears a bracelet that he gave her for her birthday over 50 years ago. They live together now. Get your mind OUT of the gutter, they love each other, but PUHLEEZE. Don�t. Go. There. He has rheumatoid arthritis, emphysema, and is on oxygen 24/7. My mother is reminiscent of a Weeble. A Weeble that has to get her hair done weekly and puts on pantyhose to get comfy, but you get the short round idea. Sometimes love is just�comfy. Comfy and secure. They care for each other in every sense of the word. It�s a neat thing to see.

Friday. Together Man�s military retirement ceremony. Daughter gets an 11:30am jailbreak so we can all go to the shindig at 1pm. I had to RSVP today, and provide license plate numbers so they can verify us at the gate. The military guy was very patient on the phone while I came off as a spaz, relaying several scenarios of potential tags. Mama and S.O. cannot get in my car. Well, they can get in, but they can�t get out. (Bonneville, low to the ground.) I will be driving them in whatever vehicle they drive here. If it�s the van, we�ll be in it. If they don�t take the van, they�ll be in S.O.�s pickup. Musical automobiles. I pray that they let us on the base. As it is Monday and they won�t be heading here until Thursday�apparently an unbreachable chasm in the space-time continuum�Mama can�t be sure yet which one they�ll be driving. It all depends on an oil change. Sheesh.

Hubby has generously offered to shoot me should I show definite signs of metamorphasizing into my mother in later years.

Saturday, Sunday. Hauling Mama and S.O. all over town. He waits patiently while my mother tries on every pair of shoes and every old lady pantsuit in every department store in the county. I�ll be in the corner of the dressing room gnawing on my toes BEGGING her to JUST BUY THE DAMN OUTFIT SO WE CAN GO.

Monday. The kids and I drive with Mama and S.O. back to the �Burg in South Carolina, so Mama can indulge in the true reason she had me: slave labor. She�s been back in that house for 5 months and there are still SCORES of boxes to unpack. She�s been saving them for me. Gee, thanks, Mom! No better way to spend the first half of Fall Break. I don�t mind, really. The bit I dread is that she turns on the heat as soon as the thermometer registers below 80. Everyone around her is dropping from heat stroke, and she�s wearing a sweater. We are going to roast alive.

Tuesday. More mining boxes in the Equator.

Wednesday. Hubby and the Gurus swing by to pick us up, and we are heading to the beach! Yes, the beach. Yes, it�s hurricane season. At the first glimpse of a Weather Channel reporter, we�re outta there. Otherwise, it will be a nice mini-vacation with a chance to see the ILs.

Thursday, Friday, Saturday. Hubby and Guru will loaf around doing manly beachy things while Mrs. Guru and I run zone defense on the children and keep everything tidy. She and I will manage to ditch them all and spend a few hours in Calabash Nautical Gifts. That store has freakin� everything. Watch me break down and come home with some more #$%^&* hermit crabs.

Sunday. Trudge to the home turf.

Somewhere in all that, I have to cram in finishing painting the kitchen, regular household chores, another morning of volunteering for school coupon book sales, Daughter�s orthodontist appointment, paying bills, and packing. Won�t be perfect, but it will get done.

Wow. Long list. Maybe I DO have a life, after all!

And yes, the cheese I had with my earlier whine was tasty, thank you. Buck Rogers, RIP.

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