My muse is gone. I have no idea where it went, but if you find it, feel free to return it.
My folks got us Netflix for Christmas. What a fantastic gift. My Mom said they watched something like 72 movies last year with their Netflix. I told her, "I'll meet your 72, and raise you 5... in a month!"
So far Bones has watched Toy Story 3, twice, Tangled, old Pink Panther cartoons and endless Sponge Bob. (He's into legos, so he builds with Sponge Bob in the background.)
My husband has watched a couple movies and my sister in law watched one while she was here.
So we've had it up and running for... four days? We're well on our way to Netflix losing some serious cash on this family!
I'm struggling here. My second son is absolutely MISERABLE at his new high school. He actually told me he misses Middle School. Who. WHO? WHO MISSES MIDDLE SCHOOL?!
He's not being bullied. He has friends. But... he simply hates it. He has a couple teachers he thinks need to retire or be fired and he feels that they make his workload that much more.
He has to find some sort of niche, something that makes him feel like he belongs and it's not happened yet. We lost our two best band members, two of his better friends, this next semester to a school with a better band and football program.
It's kind of put a damper on this holiday. I'm not sure what to do with him...
And I completely get that high school is not something that most people look back on with great happy memories. I completely get that for most, it is four years of marking time. I get that. I do.
I just wish he didn't dread/hate it so much.
I'm doing some research on dual enrollment. What do the great colleges think of that? What do they think of a kid who is enrolled at a local high school, but doesn't really attend their senior year because they're enrolled at the Junior College instead?
I guess that's where I am right now. If he hates it that much... there has to be a better way.
If any of you know anything about that... feel free to leave it in the comments.
Because of my eldest son, I'm getting SAT questions of the day in my email.
I need to take the SAT. I think I'd score a 1600. I've not gotten a question wrong yet.
My parents and my husband's eldest sister arrive tomorrow. My house is not decorated. (It's been a VERY bad week. Very bad.)
I have a 10 foot tree standing in my living room, I swear 5 feet in width. It's the fattest dang tree I've ever seen. And it is in my living room, Day... 5? Not decorated. Bones is in charge of keeping it watered.
As I said to my sister yesterday, "It's like having a 10 foot potted plant in the middle of my living room. It's big, it's green, we just keep watering it."
Maybe it'll be all the rage, "A tree in every room... for everyone! Yippee!"
My house, however, is clean. Crazy clean.
Because of the additional guest, said sister in law, Bones is moving from his bed to Ringo's room to sleep in the spare twin bed. (Are we the only family that still has twin beds in kids rooms?) Bones notoriously sleeps better when he is sleeping in Ringo's room or WITH someone. He sleeps like the dead when he and Mr. T share a double bed at my folks' home.
On his own? Not so good.
So I just assumed he'd be elated to sleep in his brother's room. His brother's room, after all, has been redecorated into an adult room, with earth tones, guitars hanging from the wall, a full sized drum set, and art.
Imagine my surprise when Bones pulled me aside.
"Mom... so... what's in this for me?"
"I know I have to sleep in Ringo's room. But I have to be honest with you. His room... smells funky... it smells... all... ummm. hmmm. werewolfy. And he sleeps until Noon. What am I getting out of this?"
I nearly busted out laughing. Werewolfy? I replied, "Oh... you mean his room smells... musky."
He stared at me and said, "Sure. Musky, werewolfy... it smells funky."
He gets a place to sleep is what he gets. Sheesh.
Smells werewolfy. Where does he come up with this stuff?
Falling into the Category of "you can't make this crap up..."
I was in Publix this afternoon and the little cashier had on a Christmas Tree 'hat'. It was one of those bands that sometimes has antlers, except this one had a Christmas tree.
The man in front of me was in a scooter and his wife/significant other, was standing bagging their groceries. I saw him point to the girl with the hat and point to his head.
She looked at him confused. I looked at him realizing he was probably mentally handicapped or had had a stroke. He was impaired.
So he did it again, pointed to her hat, pointed to his head to which she said, "OH! You want my hat!"
To which the wife/so, replied, 'You have enough of that stuff at home. And why aren't you talking?"
At which point, he began to have a full length conversation with this woman. After she paid, they went out the door and on and on they chatted, like a normal couple with no ailments.
I just kind of stood there wondering what was going on. As I got to the cashier and they were out of earshot I said, "OK, is it just me or was that really weird?"
Her eyes got big and she said, "OH! I know! I thought he was mentally impaired! And he could talk?! No issues?"
And I said, "No kidding! I thought maybe he'd had a stroke or something! Sheesh. Takes all kinds..."
And we laughed and shook our heads and I walked out... only to find he'd gotten up out of the scooter, walked big as day over to the scale and was weighing himself. As I passed him, he grabbed his bags and walked out back to his car.
Unaided. Without issue.
I had this urge to run back inside and say to the cashier and say, "WAIT! There is MORE!"
Now, I'd not think anything of a person who was in a scooter and then walked to their car. People have circulation issues, heart trouble, unsteady legs etc. But considering I'd just seen this guy fake not being able to speak, I feel fairly certain he was 'fake not walking' too.
Craziest dang thing I'd ever seen. Who does that? Who? (Well... other than Bones. I can see him doing that. At 15. Not at 60... I don't think...)
There is a lot going on here, we're behind in life, but a quick story.
Every now and then on the internet, we get a funny story about something a student wrote on a test. I don't know if Ringo made this up himself or he heard it from someone, but this is true; he did do it.
He had a young Biology teacher his freshman year. He took regular bio instead of Honors because the school had this ridiculous rule that if you didn't take Honors Geometry, then you couldn't take Honors Bio. I was going to fight it, but decided to leave it alone. It's a good thing because he wasn't mature enough to take that heavy of a load and the Honors Bio teacher doesn't... teach.
But the regular bio class was... crazy beneath him. He made A's by just showing up. He participated readily as he REALLY REALLY liked his teacher... a 24 year old blonde that looked like she should have a surf board in her hand. She was smart as hell too.
He REALLY liked her.
So one day he was taking a test, and on the top of his test he drew a Samurai and he wrote underneath it, "This Samurai is protecting my test from your red pen..."
When he got his test back (an A), she had written, "Luckily, I have my anti-Samurai pen..." and she graded it in Green.
I didn't know that story until today. He was laughing about various things that have happened in school and some cool teachers he's had. That made the list.
She gave him an extra 2 points for originality.
I really liked her. Too bad she got laid off at the end of that year due to the last in first out rule. They kept the sucky teachers. She got the shaft. I'm not over it...
Finals are upon us. And we're trying to get ready for Christmas. We're all ready for a long winter's rest.
We've lived in this house for 15 years. The bathroom the kids use, after 15 years of toddlers, preschoolers and teenagers had taken a beating. Builder's Grade paint had turned to chalk, tile was chipped and I felt certain there was mold behind the tile in the shower since a year ago the soap dish fell off and it was black behind it.
Soap dishes falling off is bad, but black behind it is worse.
The double sink vanity had been made of some Builder's Grade particle board. Years of little boys washing hands or better yet, using the sink as their personal waterplay area had completely destroyed the doors on the cabinets. They were swollen and the innards were pushing out.
It was actually embarrassing. It didn't matter how clean the bathroom was, it was just so beat up, I never let guests use it. I used the excuse of "Oh... the boys use that one..." when in reality, it was just so bad, beyond a nice coat of paint bad, I didn't want anyone in it.
So over the past couple years, I've been cataloguing what we could do as inexpensivily as possible and my husband has been buying odds and ends for it, storing what he found on sale, in the garage.
Last week we finally had the work done. Not enough stress in our lives with Christmas and high school aged kids preparing for finals, work, and of course, all the end of semester music concerts.
We're not decorated yet.
Shopping was started... two days ago.
But the bathroom is almost complete, with the exception of one wall that my husband is about to repaint for the third time. And we don't have mirrors. I'm in the search of mirrors for over the sink.
Anyway, so that is a long way of saying 15 years worth of kids and the collection of complete and total crap in the vanity.
Oh my God.
Before they hauled out the old crap vanity, my husband dumped the contents and put it in another room. Today I decided to start putting things back in the bathroom.
Three boxes. He had filled up three boxes of... crap.
If you have a skinned knee, come to my house. I have an assortment of bandaids that I think would make most medics envious. They are shaped like toast, eggs, or bacon. They have devil ducks, snowmen, Santa Claus, Christmas trees, power rangers and super heros. Some even have a variety of animals from tigers to pandas. I have bandaids to keep the wet out and create some sort of bubble. I have bandaids that range in size from covering a scrape to covering a gun shot wound.... seriously, big as your face.
And there is NOT a house that takes First Aid more seriously than this house does, evidently, as band aids are JUST the beginning. I have... five first aid kits. Lest you think these are store bought, NO.
I managed to throw the store bought kit out.
The remaining were all made in Scouts at some point in their Scouting lives and trust me when I say, there is no way in hell you can buy a better one than ours, unless it's professional. The only thing our kits are missing is frosting for diabetics and that's because none of us are diabetics.
Goggles, scissors, more bandaids, bandages, tweezers, tylenol, advil, antiseptic wipes, latex gloves (could be a problem for those allergic to latex), hand santizer, it's got it all except needle and thread. No stitching allowed.
If you need Gold Bond powder, let me know. I'll ship it to you. We have three bottles of that crap. I already told VW not to buy it when her boys start doing overnight camping with Boy Scouts. (It prevents chafing.) They didn't sell it in the little bottles... so the big bottles we have.
We evidently collect soaps from hotels. I'm donating those. Done.
If I laid out the hair junk you'd have been able to see the trend over the last 15 years of little boy hair from a stick to be able to flip up the top, to green goo to keep it all spikey. I have blue and gray hairspray from the Lord only knows what. I think it was crazy day in Bones' First Grade. He's in Seventh now. I had tons of hair product to help Ringo straighten his hair.
Story on Ringo's hair... his hair was straight as a board until he hit puberty, then it turned to springs. His hair, when long, looks like springy snakes. Think... Greek God like hair. He hated it. For awhile he just let it go moppy but sometimes he'd straighten it. I thought he looked either like he was trying to hide or like he was emo. Now he keeps it short and the slightest hint of a curl, we're back at the barbers.
So hairproduct... all over.
Of course, all this junk is mostly gone now, except the Gold Bond that I'll give to VW.
Now when I open the vanity or drawers, it's full of toothbrushes and razors, aftershave, and acne soaps. A few cold medicines and benadryl round it out. We own sunscreen.
I kept all the bandaids.
I couldn't part with them. The last bastion of their childhood... Ringo leaves in 18 months.
How crazy empty that bathroom will feel then...
The craziest thing happened yesterday.
Ringo has been really sick so he missed Monday and Tuesday. Finals are coming and we're all freaking out that he's been sick, including his teachers. I actually had one of his teachers call me, worried he was about to blow his A.
But on Tuesday morning, he knew he had a paper to turn in for English, and he was going to get 28 extra points on a test if he could recite this one particular poem. It was the difference between a high B and a low A.
So I drove him into school early, so he could see his AP English teacher, turn in the paper and recite the poem. It was just five minutes. I waited and then he got in the car and I took him back home to sleep.
As I waited, I listened to one of our local stations, one I don't find offensive. The DJs are women, and I think they're kind of funny. I don't always like the music, but it's not a bad morning show. They asked a question to the audience and I thought, "Hey, I have an opinion on that... I don't have anything else to do, what the hell?"
So I called in. Next thing I know, the two DJs are on the phone with me and we're talking and laughing, and they said goodbye and I wondered if it would play, if it had been live and I didn't know (I had the radio off to call). But as I went to hang up, this guy came on and said cheerfully, "So did you talk to them?"
And I laughed and said, 'Oh yeah. They were great... thanks for putting me through..." and he said, "Wait, I want to confirm your information so I can put you in for some prizes."
Cool. I didn't need anything, but that's cool.
Five minutes later, Ringo and I are on our way home, and I was on the frickin' radio! It was me and the two women talking. And... I realized a couple things.
One, I have an undefined accent. I understand now why people can't understand where I'm from, because I pronounce my vowels oddly. Second, I talk REALLY REALLY fast. Now I understand why when I leave a message on my one friend's msg machine her husband always says, "The Machine Gun called". (I am VERY slow repeating my name and phone number.) So it was weird, but fun, and the DJs were nice.
So today I got a call from the station and Holy Crap. I won a ton of stuff!
The girl from the promotions office said she looked at the list and said to herself, "Wow... this person won a lot of stuff!" She told me that calling and participating gets you the most. I probably won't call in again, but how fun is that?
We chatted for a few minutes about her job. What a fun job, calling people and giving them things.
Then she said I won some sort of DVD (I didn't catch it), tickets to Kennedy Space Center, some holiday house from Hoffman's chocolate that I can pick up next week and... a Christmas tree!
I won a frickin' TREE!
I couldn't quit laughing! Who wins a tree?
So it's been the big joke at work and we're laughing at home. My husband and I discussed it and I'm calling the Promo department back and asking them to donate the tree to a needy family. I can buy a tree. If the station will find a family and donate it, I'll even take decorations down to the station so they have a full on tree to deliver.
But how frickin' cool is that?!
I am glad sometimes I didn't personally go through the whole '7th grade boy phase'. I have to say, it's different with Bones than it was with the others, because... Bones is Bones.
He came home the other day and declared, "I need to shave."
I looked at his smooth baby face and stared blankly at him.
He continued, "Look. This moustache I have..." as he rubbed this blonde fuzz on his upper lip.
I squinted and said, "Yeah, but it's not time. If you insist, go ahead, but really, there is no reason."
I thought it was dead.
Today, he got in the car and informed me that he was told, "Hey, Bones, that hair on your lip... it is thick as cottage cheese!" First thing he said to me as he bounced in the car.
Flash forward to our being in the car today coming home from his orthodontist appointment. He was all sad sacky because he got rubberbands and he thinks it's going to inhibit his spontaneously breaking out in song. (Serious, he does... break out in song.)
Nothing I could say would make him happy. "Pick your favorite dinner! What kind of ice cream would you like?" Nothing, nada, zippo.
Finally, I looked over at his sad schlumpy face and said, "Well... do you wanna go get that razor?
And at that point, a new energy permeated the car as he started to quote a commercial for, "Gillette Fusion ProGlide."
I efing hate TV. Seriously, I think half the crap Bones wants is based on a commercial he saw. He is an advertiser's DREAM.
Off we went to Publix, for me to purchase ingredients for dinner and for him to get a Gillette Fusion ProGlide. (Did you know the Gillette's own a football team? That tidbit of information came from Mr. T, who is all football, all the time.)
Mr. T was harrassing him relentlessly. "You don't need a razor! What a joke! You don't even have a beard!" Coming from the boy who ONLY has lambchops. Every other kid in high school shaves their upper lip or a portion of their chin. Mr. T has to shave the side of his face. It's THICK. And he prefers and electric razor like his older brother and Dad.
We got home and Bones is wiggly all over the place. "I gotta shave! I gotta shave!"
Mr. T is laughing hysterically. My husband is in his own world, clueless as to what is going on and I'm totally ignoring it. Let Mr. T guide him. Memories, etc.
Not five minutes later, Mr. T is still laughing and Bones comes running in, doing the Kermit the frog, where arms are flailing and he's being dramatic and sad. T is laughing harder.
I looked at Bones and there are little cuts on his lip. I looked at T accusingly, "Didn't you tell him you only shave one way?! Did you show him?"
Mr. T had his hands open, "MOM! I left! He told me he was going to do it alone!"
I couldn't believe it. All the cottage cheese was gone, and left were some little cuts.
They went into the kitchen to unload the dish washer and Bones once again, was singing, so much for the rubber bands getting in the way, but this time he was singing...
... get this....
Ring of fire.
For 20 minutes, that's what I heard, meanwhile Mr. T was still laughing.
I ended up putting some healing stuff for shaving on his top lip, he said it helped for two seconds.
The whole thing is ghastly funny. He's tired of us laughing at him, but he's such a cartoon, you can't help it.
The part I keep laughing at is... half his teachers are MEN. I know dang well that every male teacher he has will look at him and know EXACTLY what happened.
On a weird note, Bones and I were in the car today to pick up T from trombone lessons when walking down the street was a guy carrying a garbage bag in one hand and a 5 foot python in the other.
I was so pissed I didn't take a picture.
Thank you Mr. Watterson and Monty Python.
Mr. T has an English test tomorrow that is totally jacked up. He has to know the definitions of all sorts of words that I don't even know.
WTF is a synecdoche? (We put it in dictionary.com just to hear how to pronounce it.) Or... a litote? Or do we really need to know that trochee is stressed, unstressed?
As he said to me, "You know I don't need this in real life."
I keep telling him just to move on and learn it. Meanwhile, I've been looking for little ways to remind him what things are, coming up with mnemonics. Some of them are simple.
To remind him what an Ode is, I looked up Calvin and Hobbes' Ode to Tigers, complete with cartoon so he could visualize Calvin or Hobbes looking all pompous when speaking of Tigers.
And for some reason, Folk Ballad was just not sticking in his head. (Elision does, but folk ballad does not? What gives?) So I grabbed up Youtube and looked up Sir Robin. I think he's going to remember those...
We're slowly getting decorated for Christmas. Bones found a music box still in it's original packing, sitting on the floor waiting to be unwrapped and set on a table.
He opened it and said, "Hunh! This is cool..." He flipped the switch on and said, "It doesn't work."
I said, "Well, there are batteries..." as I kept working, not looking up.
So off he scampered to change the batteries.
He got it all changed out and said, "Hunh. It still doesn't work. I think it's broken...", when he... *get this* opened the lid and music poured out.
I looked up and said, "Wait..."
He looked up, eyes wide and said, "I guess it works..."
To which I replied, "When you said it didn't work before, had you bothered to open the lid?"
I continued, "So what's the probability that those old batteries aren't dead?" at which point he ran into the kitchen to retreive them and put them back on the 'might work' shelf.
Twelve years old and the kid doesn't know how a music box works?
So I uploaded the vids. These are videos of his private lesson yesterday as he gets ready for his juries. He was given TWO songs. We are hoping they pick this first song, as his voice has outgrown the second. I'm putting up a couple videos...
This first video, the sound was better than my first actual take. It's blurry, unfortunately, and he doesn't make it all the way through before his teacher stops him to correct some things.
He doesn't have some beautiful voice, but it is nice and he makes me happy when he sings.
This video picks up and ends the song. It probably shows his voice at the best part of the song. There are still issues, but this is 18 months of formal voice training and his instructor is VERY happy.
This is the song he's outgrown. It's not in his octave any more and he is really really struggling to stay in pitch. He waffles between staying too high and going flat. If this gets chosen, he'll be fine, but there is a high probability that the vocal director will just change the octave. It'll be interesting.
Here they continue to try to work on... adieu. He's just too high, trying to stay in an area he isn't comfortable singing in anymore.
I think that last video gives probably a more accurate depiction of what his vocal lessons are like after he's learned the words. He picks up songs very very quickly. It's the auditory learning he has... he hears it once and he can mimic.
The good thing is he learns music quickly. The bad thing... any comedy skit on Youtube is quoted here in its entirety... constantly. That makes his older brothers and me a bit bat crap crazy.
I have vid of Bones preparing for his jury. I hope to get it up tomorrow.
People who have not seen him in awhile will be surprised by how deep is voice is beginning to get. A song his teacher at school picked out for him in September is now a struggle to sing. He's out of the high boundary.
His private teacher seems to think that the upper ranges may very well be completely out of his range by his jury. That is 10 days. That's how quickly his voice is changing.
When you have a male vocalist in the family, it really sheds light on this whole voice changing deal. She thinks he may end up a bass. His voice is changing that quickly.
But... he could be a tenor. We shall see...
To steal a phrase from my sister, today was just a 'little cup of crazy'.
Six hundred and fifty plants arrived today. Or so. Twenty eight were beautiful white hydrangeas and the rest were red poinsettias.
I am covered in poinsettia goo.
I could not work with the general public. This small, very small, fraction of parents that make me bat crap crazy, in larger quantity with the masses... would not be a good thing for me.
Overall, it went very well. It really did.
Our local alternative rock station got closed down this week. The parent company, CBS I believe, changed them to a top hits type programming.
That hasn't set very well with my eldest. He got in the car the other day and told me, seriously pissed off, he doesn't listen to Pop or Top Hit music. He's an indie kind of guy and this alternative station was the closest thing.
He got in the car and declared, "OK, we're a classical family now..." and he switched my station to the local classical station. Not classical rock, but classical as in symphonic music.
So that's what we listen to. I'm cool either way. When they leave my car, I typically listen to my iPod anyway.
Bones... is not happy. He got in the car and Rossini's Barber of Seville was playing. "You're kidding me... We have to listen to this all the time now?"
Ever so cheerfully I said, "YES! But you know this song, right?"
To which he replied, "Of course. You know what school I go to..."
And I said, "Plus! There is always Bugs Bunny!"
I think I'd love to go to the symphony with a Bugs performance at the same time. The Houston Symphony has it all going on...
This evening was spent baking a cake so someone could make an edible animal cell.
My prayer for tomorrow is that everyone in Bones' Science class has a pancreas that can handle all the sugar.
I'm sure my husband made an A. (OK, Bones put it together, but it was my ever lovin' husband that planned it out. And Bones baked the cake. I oversaw his first cake baking.)
Here's what it's supposed to look like, artist's rendition:
Here's the Key:
My sister has so much to look forward to...
Meanwhile, on the independent front, my eldest was supposed to make a video for his Religion class. It was supposed to be on rituals and they were supposed to teach someone something.
Ritual was used loosely. I'd say it was more of a 'how you do something, you do it the same every time', unlike their how to make a sandwich video from last year in Spanish, which by the way, got voted in the class as the best, but they failed it.
Go figure. I thought it was great.
Anyway, so his buddies were coming over to film in a vacant lot and he was going to help them do theirs, when one of his friends on the way over, ran over a nail and didn't know how to change a tire, so he drove his car, on a flat tire, to a place to get it changed, where he waited two hours.
Ringo was APPALLED.
So on Sunday he said to me, "Mom, I'll take you to your baby shower. I need your van... I'm doing a video on how to change a tire."
He dropped me off and proceeded to film himself changing a tire, an educational video if you will. He said he chose it so Nick will learn during Religion class... how to change a tire.
Now my husband is very very handy and is quite the motorhead. He loves cars and can do anything with them, but he's never really sat down and shown Ringo how to do anything because he just hasn't had time.
I said to Ringo, "Where did you learn to change a tire? Your Dad didn't teach you yet..."
To which he replied, "Boy Scouts. The older boys this year were taught how to change a tire, change the oil in a car, and how to jumpstart a car..."
Frickin' LOVE Boy Scouts. LOVE.THEM.
I did tell him to have his buddies come over after watching the video and change the tires on my van. (I'll have my husband check it after to make sure it gets on right.) I told Ringo it's one thing to watch, another thing to do. Those boys need to be able to do it.
It's even better to teach someone. That'll solidify all of it in Ringo's head.
I suspect after the Religion Class video Ringo will be the one the girls turn to when it comes to car stuff. Just a thought.
We're gutting a bathroom and it's not going as well as we'd anticipated nor as cheaply as we had budgeted.
Our Sundays have become a day of anticipation on how Tim Tebow will do with the Broncos. We're a big Tebow household still.
We're kind of at a loss as to why so many people hate him. Really. Do I think he's a great QB? Not really. But I think he bonds well with his teams and I think the fact he is an upbeat good person glues together his team. I think they like him and respect him and they all play well because of their bond.
It is the media that continually throws him in the limelight. It is not something he asks for, yet he is hated for it.
He's a good person, the kind of guy we want our kids to grow up to be. He's respectful, works hard, keeps up a good attitude, and is kind. Yet... people hate that.
I find it puzzling.
I have nearly 700 poinsettias delivered to the school on Wednesday. It's going to be crazy.
Last year it was so cold I had to call my crew and remind them to dress warmly. This year it's going to be 80 degrees.
I think what I'm noticing is the biggest difference between the lower grades and high schools is... the friends.
I went to a Christmas party last night and saw some Moms I'd not seen since May. We were immediately laughing like we used to, catching up, and talking about old times. I miss that. I don't have that at the boys' high school.
We were discussing how different high school is. Eventually the kids even drive themselves, so there is no mingling at pick up or while waiting for them at events. It's just different.
I was steaming green beans for dinner tonight and the water boiled out. My house STILL smells like burned pan.
I accidentally changed my face cleansing stuff and... my acne has gone away, for the first time in six years? I'm trying to figure out if it's a fluke. If my face stays this clear for another four weeks, it's not a fluke.
We're trying to refinance our home, down to a 15 year. It takes an act of God now to get any lending done. Holy crap.
At the party last night a young girl said to me, "We had our house sold, but they couldn't get the money." The wife was a doctor. It's not a crazy expensive house. It has to be her medical school loans.
But what was funny was when we asked about them buying the house, she said, "They were really nice. They were black Jews..."
To which I said, "I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?"
I have to tell you, I have many many many friends who are Jewish. I have many many many friends who are black. I have absolutely not one friend that is both black and Jewish.
Something kind of whacky happened on my Dad's side of the family. (Not blog fodder.)
I said to him, "OMG! I LOVE Southern Families! It's this kind of crazy stuff!"
He said to me, "It's like something out of a William Faulkner novel..."
To which I replied, "That's why he was so great! He had all this good southern family material!"
Southern families... they just shove all that sh-- in a closet, all the sordid dysfunctionality, and then someone accidentally hits the doorknob and all the sh-- spills out, and then the reactions are many *GASP!*, wide eyes and "NO!!! Say it isn't so!"
Or as my sister said, "Well, is that a little cup of crazy or what?!"
I was at a meeting yesterday... a meeting where I had to run a section of it as a Chairman.
It had the potential to get ugly, in particular with one troublemaker member, so I wore my Power red dress with five inch "Don't F*ck with me Shoes" and did my thing.
It got ugly. I had to get very nasty... while at the mic... and put someone in their place. I thought people were going to cheer.
That didn't make me feel good. I don't like to have to get like that and I don't like to have to be cold and mean in public in front of people. You take people aside to dress them down. But when they are rude in a public forum, it is what it is.
As I stood before the 75 ladies having to do the dirty work, I heard at a side table from someone who does not know me, "Wow... listen to her. Is she an attorney?" I wasn't sure that was a compliment...
I got a txt from someone yesterday saying, "To my dear Dragon Lady. You were PERFECT. Where did you sharpen your Samurai Sword?"
That... made me smile. I like my sword, although she got the wrong ancestory.
I prefer Boudicca's...