Some days there is a shortage of blog fodder. Other days... not so much.
This is the first year where I have not one kid who is Trick or Treating. Ringo is out with his buddies, wearing a Viking hat with a Percy Harvin jersey, because supposedly at some restaurant, you can get free food if you're dressed. T is sitting here doing homework and watching all that is... the World of Bones.
Bones decided that this year he would dress in some sort of black ghoul costume and scare trick or treaters by hiding in the dark recesses of the house. His brothers were immediately aghast by the plan, simultaneously chastizing him, "What kind of jerk scares small children and babies?" to which he replied offended, "I'm just going to scare the big kids!"
So I bought the ghoulish cape, knowing it will last him a few years and we already had the scythe. We have all sorts of weapons because as any of you long time readers will remember, for years the costumes were all about the weapons.
But, Bones can't tell when kids are coming to the house, our house set back about a 1/4 of an acre from the street, so he keeps coming back into the house, waiting, hoping, and planning.
I'll update this if we actually get any kids he can scare. As of now, we've had two kids and he was off doing something else when they came. It's tough for an ADHD kid to stay focused and still in the corner of a dark house. Let's just say, I've realized that Jason from the Friday the 13th series did not have ADHD or ADD in any form for that matter...
So some snap shots from tonight:
Gator Pumpkin (Sidenote : My husband free handed this pumpkin.)
** NOTE: Well, our ADHD scary ghoul was struggling to stay outside and wait, so I got him a camping chair and an iPad...**
Sitting Ghoul with iPad
(Gotta wonder what I'm going to get googled for with that one...)
** NOTE#2: Girls scream really really loud...**
**Note#3: So Bones was hanging out waiting, hearing bigger kid voices and as the small pack of kids showed up, three boys and a girl, he realized how much bigger they were than he and they seemed tougher, having Hispanic accents. So he just stood there, not moving. One of them finally noticed. They said, "Were you going to scare us?" and Bones said, 'Yeah, but I got afraid you'd punch me in the face!" and the kids started to laugh. It was dang funny... And funnier still to hear him put his funny Bones spin on it. He said to T, "Suddenly this Hispanic gang showed up..." to which I replied, "No.they.were.not. They were your age." And he said to T, "They were big. A lot bigger than me. I was afraid for myself, so I didn't scare them..." Afraid for himself? He was laughing and cutting up with those kids the rest of the way down the sidewalk and then as they went to other homes... he was yelling after them as they all teased each other.
Mr. T is REALLY going to email Brent Pease. What a nut.
The storm itself can be scary.
It is the aftermath that is horrible. The abject suffering... can not be comprehended if you've not seen it or experienced it. Power will be out for weeks and possibly months.
Sewer and water systems will be a mess. Things you take for granted, the little things, will be non-existent. Gas becomes a commodity. Bathing... can be a luxury. Ice if it's hot out, warmth if it is cold.
And even if you've prepared, even if you have enough food for 2 weeks, what do you do... on week 3?
It is cold in the Northeast and there won't be heat. The flooding, the stench, the clean up, the cold... may we pray for our friends in the North East. It is in these times that we are not divided by politics, religion, race, social status. Is is in these times that Americans pull together to help one another.
May the suffering be limited. May there be no more loss of life. May God hold them in the palm of His hand, giving them the strength to get through this.
We hold all these people in our prayers and thoughts.
I'm sitting here LMAO. You can't make this stuff up and it doesn't translate well via the written word. I need frickin' video.
T and Ringo came up behind me today, playing off each other as they do.
T: We decided...I'm going to be an OFFENSIVE coordinator when I grow up.
Ringo: He's serious.
T: I have some GREAT offensive plays, Mom. Great. They won't know what hit them.
Ringo: He's good.
T: And not just from the 1 yard line, Mom. I'm talkin'.... 99 yards.
Ringo: He's got good stuff.
T *crazy eyes in my face, pointing his finger at his head like he's some psycho from a movie... think Jack Nicholson*: Mom. Shhh. It's all about getting in their HEAD.
Ringo *laughing hysterically*: He's got it.
T: I'm going to email Brent Pease. (Sidenote: He's the offensive coordinator for the Florida Gators.)
Ringo: YOU SHOULD!
T: Why... I think I will! He will listen to me. I know what I'm talking about. Brent Pease. I'm going to email him...
T seems to have recovered from the disaster that was the 'Dawgs. For those that don't get that reference... nevermind.
I need a new category for College football.
I'm home. I had a fantastic time. I could feel myself getting skittish and nervous on Sunday, knowing what was coming at home. A call home made me realize you can leave for a couple days, but everything is still there percolating. I think they call that, "You can't run away from your problems."
I need to get the Driver's side window of my car fixed. It is a serious pain in the neck to pay for your airport ticket when you can't get the window down to insert it into the kiosk.
Ringo got accepted into his second college this weekend, under the guise that he do so by attending their summer session first. He did this with his ACT score which was one point from "Ivy League Competitive" and his not so great SAT scores. If they'd seen his new SAT scores, he may have gotten in for Fall Semester. We got is new scores last week and they rocked.
So he's going to college for sure. He's been accepted to my alma mater, UWF, and then UCF is the newest. It's a huge school in Orlando. He is waiting to hear from two more schools and he informed me last night that he wants to apply to a college an hour from here. We'll see.
I think there is Trig homework on the table for me to look at...
Bones auditions for the Art High School in January. Today we went to the Open House.
There I sat with 100 other parents? and someone said, "So how many people apply?" and the music director said, "Last year, we had 200 students apply."
She continued to talk and then someone raised their hand and said, "And how many spots do you have open?" and the director replied, "We take 25 students" and about then... I nearly threw up.
As we walked out, one of the Moms I know said, "Holy crap. Twenty-five out of 200..." and I looked at her son and his eyes were big and he looked horrified.
I looked at the Mom and said, "Well, as good fortune would have it, Bones is the black hole of math. He sucks it out of other people. All that went completely over his head..." as we watched Bones bee bop out the door.
Boys have preference if they pass their audition. If it was a pure lottery, they could end up with no male voices. So they do pull the top boys immediately. The key is to be... the top boy.
He is working. He is working. What I'm posting is his first cut three weeks ago of his audition song. This is very very preliminary. Right before his audition, I'll tape it again so you can hear the difference.
He is settling into a bass.
So... Bones' First Pass.
I am off tomorrow for Atlanta to see the babies and then to Eric's. It's been crazy here... and I'm in need of a bit of an away. I've been in an 'alone in a crowd' funk lately, so I'm looking forward to smooching on my nieces. Babies have a way of warming the heart...
Well I didn't lose my job.
And not only did I not lose my job and not get pulled aside and told to watch myself, although upon conferring with my boss I did get many big sighs which I knew were accompanied by head banging on door frames, instead there was this crazy group of apologies and attempts to rectify the situation.
I'm still scratching my head over it. I'd love to say it's because everyone saw the light and saw I was right, but in reality, I think it boiled down to two things:
The person I was really pissed at has burned a lot of bridges and people were sick of it.
And... some sort of chivalry. I think that my nasty email tweaked something down deep in these men... a feeling that a woman was being wronged and they stepped up to make sure it was rectified.
I could be wrong about the last, I feel certain I am right about the first. I, in no way, came across as the victim in my pissed off email. I'm not sure I've ever come across as a victim in my life, although surely I have felt that way on more than one occasion. But when I reread my email at the end of the day today, now looking back on the entire situation in hindsight since it was all coming to a conclusion, I read a very seriously pissed off woman who was sick and tired of being dragged around and being treated like an idiot.
And I think they were all kind of taken back since I am usually pretty laid back at work and then they were irritated that I have been dragged around and I've been a pretty good sport about it (the pays the same, right?)... until Saturday when I'd had enough.
There you go. I'll try harder to control it next time as I realized I'd nearly made my boss collateral damage. Sunday morning 5AM, I sat bolt right up in bed and thought, 'Holy crap. My boss is in the Great White North and he hasn't seen the email, but everyone he's meeting with HAS and he can't be blind sided!' I spent Sunday trying to get hold of him before Monday's meeting... which was the phone conversation where as I explained what had occurred, I got the quiet, the deep breaths, and what was probably his forehead hitting the door frame of some door in his hotel as he was thinking "F***".
And I do think it kind of sucks that every time I'm pissed at a situation, I have to sit back and think, "Ok, am I going to be perceived as a b*tch?" because I'm telling you right now, none of the men I work with ever think, "Ok, am I being perceived as a b@stard?"
It's over. I have a job. That's what matters...
And Bones informed me today that when he buys his own car that he is going to buy one that is Lime Green and that he understands that I probably have an issue with his wanting to have his bedroom painted Lime Green when he turns 16; therefore, he won't ask.
Thank God for the little things...
My eldest is taking AP English and I proof his papers before he turns them in. I don't rewrite. I do what my Dad did for me. I look for glaring grammatical and punctuation errors. I suggest where things might be moved. I tell him when, as an outsider, something doesn't flow or make sense.
I'm perpetually amazed that this is my son's writing. He writes like... a college student. I sent one of his papers to my family. I never wrote like that in college.
After one of his papers I said, "You know Mr. K runs this all through plagiarism software... right?" To which I was met with a *blink*. Finally he said, 'What's your point?"
And that would be about the time I realized it was his.
But I have to say, they need to move past Lord of the Flies. They keep writing papers on that one book. Holy crap. The wisdom symbolism of the glasses, the Freud Id, Superego, Ego attributed to various characters.
I'm kinda done.
Could they read some Faulkner?
It'll be interesting to see if I get fired on Monday. I might be OK with it... if anything, I'll get pulled from the program I'm working.
Sometimes calling a spade a spade is a bad thing. Sometimes. I just don't care.
Some extraordinarily rotten days are made just a little bit better when Steve Spurrier is seen in The Swamp getting the ultimate smack down.
When I was six, I lost my first tooth. It was the standard front bottom tooth that most children between the ages of five and six lose first.
I remember my father sitting me down, unwinding a long piece of string, tying a little knot in it, slowly pressing it down on my tooth, using a tooth pick to get it in place, and then when he said 1-2... 3, YANK!, he pulled out my tooth.
Except this was the first tooth pulling experience for all involved, my being the eldest child and this being my first tooth.
So instead of doing it some place like... oh... the kitchen... that had either a tile floor or linoleum flooring, something solid, slick and easy to find things, we were in the family room, over a shag rug.
Out popped the tooth, the string only holding while the tooth was in my mouth, and the tooth was sprung free not only from my sweet angelic face, but from the dark blue/black string it had been tied to.
Flung into the carpet it was. And although I don't remember this part so much, I suspect my Mom was probably really pissed, as I would have been, because I would have wanted the perfect experience of putting the tooth under my angel's pillow so she could have awakened to a quarter. (I think that was the going rate.)
But I don't remember that part. I just remember suddenly I was literally missing a tooth, in every sense of the phrase, and I remember Mom getting the vaccuum cleaner and vaccuuming the living room and I remember them splitting open the vaccuum bag and finding my tooth.
All was right in our world.
I don't think many kids have quite the same first tooth loss experience that I had. I even remember what was on TV. It was Wonderful World of Disney, which means it was probably a Sunday night, because I think that was Sunday Family fare back in the 70s.
That's how my teeth were pulled. The process was fine tuned, of course. No more shag rugs under foot. Teeth didn'tget lost. String, toothpicks, and a pull was all that was needed.
By the time it got to Mo, evidently TGOO got more creative. Mo can add more to the story, but she got the string, but she also got the string tied to the doorknob where the door was shut.
And of course there was the infamous fork story. He pulled her tooth out with a fork. He swears he doesn't remember it. She swears it happened.
I lean towards Mo's memory of the details.
Now I thought this was how all kids had their teeth pulled. Strings, doorknobs, forks... new and inventive ways. Some not so inventive...
Until my eldest was of age. And there was my sweet angelic five year old with his first little wiggly tooth and I said to my husband, "Well, we just need a piece of good string and we can pop that sucker right out".
To which my husband then stared at me as if I was Blinky the Three Eyed Fish.
"String? Why... do you need string?" he queried.
And so I ran him down the story of how I lost my first tooth, ending with Mo's final tooth being popped out with a fork and if he thought my family was a bit off before, namely because we don't take left turns, now he thought we were down right freakish.
He informed me that there would be no string and he proceeded to take a napkin, to keep the wet tooth from sliding, and he just plucked the tooth out like an over ripe grape.
Hunh. Who knew?
So imagine today when a buddy of mine sent me this video. I started laughing and screaming at my screen, immediately sent it to my entire family, called my Mom and Dad TWICE, and then made them stay on the phone with me while they watched.
TGOO is sorely disappointed he didn't think of this. I informed him they didn't really have rockets like that in the 70s, at least not so readily available. My Mom was wondering what that random family was going to think when they found a rocket in their yard with 300 feet of dental floss attached...
And to my Mom: Mom, watch THIS video, because it's longer and you're going to like what happens in the end. It answers a question that will make you happy.
I give you... tooth pulling Dad of the year:
Hear him laughing in the background? My Dad used to do that too. He always cracked himself up...
Sometimes in my spare time, I like to just drive to Publix at 10:15 at night, to see if they have glow sticks, since glow sticks have strontium in them.
These frickin' school projects are killing me. Between the 6 page essay my eldest son asked me to edit regarding The Lord of the Flies and the characterizations using Sigmund Freud's Id, Ego and Superego, and T's chemistry project regarding Strontium, I'm wondering exactly what *I* was doing in high school?
'Cuz I sure as hell wasn't doing what they are doing...
Bones and I talk about music a lot. He'll listen pretty much to anything. He's, however, become more analytical about voices. He gives me his insight, which is far more than I have, and tells me what he's learning about women's voices as well.
This is the first year he's been in a chorus with girls. He has explained to me the octave differences between sopranos, mezzos and altos (we think I'd be an alto with a really bad range) and male tenors, baritones and basses.
Bones' voice is settling. He's not lost his range, but he's not as comfortable in the tenor range anymore. He is settling in as a baritone with leanings towards bass. His voice is still very rich and it carries well. I look at his body structure and it seems to make sense. He is so broad chested... it just seems fit for a voice that carries.
He had a concert the other night and son #4's Mom, one of my best friends and Bones' Godmother, was with me as always. (She goes to all his concerts.) During this particular song, she noticed how big his hands are getting.
This is Starbreaker, the song the top chorus ALWAYS finishes with. During the concerts, the vocal directors call up alumns of the chorus and all these high school kids get up and sing... every now and then someone is in from college. It's Bones' favorite part.
Look at 1:03, where their hands spread out. That's the part on Tuesday night when my gf noticed how large Bones hands are. She called him a puppy.
We've had to start moving where we sit in the auditorium. In the boys' chorus, evidently as your voice drops, you move to the right. Bones is either in the center now or off to the right... no longer with the tenors. It is odd.... but it's like this big badge he wears. "Oh. I'm a bass." or "Me? I'm a baritone" as his chest swells... as if this was something he worked to accomplish as opposed to genetics.
He also seems to gravitate more towards classical. If he were to have a true musical career (he won't), I would say he would be a Josh Grobin type over some boy band. It may come from the 3 years of classical training, but you can tell to in the music he favors in their concerts. This past concert his favorite was a song they'd learned in German.
This post isn't going where I thought it would go. That happens. I started this post to talk about the two songs on the radio that Bones and I laugh at. It ended up being about Bones. His auditions for the High School of the arts are in January.
It's never too early to pray.
So back to my original thoughts. Bones got in the car the other day and he said, "Have you heard Taylor Swift's new song, We are Never Getting Back Together Again?"
Bones: I don't know why, but that song cracks me up...
Me: I KNOW! Right? She's just so adament and it's just funny the way she states it.
Bones: Her voice is really maturing...
Me: She doesn't sound so flat anymore...
That was our big discussion, when she first started singing, her voice always sounded flat to me.
The video is odd... she has her group dressed as odd little animals, but even without that quirk, Bones and I for some reason just think this song is funny, even if it wasn't mean to be. You don't have to listen to it all to either laugh or not. It's just the chorus. Maybe it's the thought of being on top of the world and instead of professing one's love, professing how you'll absolutely NEVER EVER get back together again.
That said, we think this song is funnier. This guy gets broken up with by his girlfriend and thinks of all these ways to tell his buddies she died, as opposed to her dumping him.
I think this portion was my favorite part of the list:
She was caught in a mudslide
Eaten by a lion
Got run over by a crappy purple Scion
The things that amuse Bones and I are endless. It's so funny... that as much as he's NOT like me in the way he thinks, his sense of humor and mine are probably the most similar. There are times when the two of us just laugh hysterically... and we crack each other up.
And it's not that I don't laugh with my other boys. There are times when it is the four of us and we all get to laughing so hard, it seems that's how families should be. We can all play off each other and completely get it.
But Bones? Well, he cracks me up most when he's not making me nuts...
Ringo is going to college. He got accepted to his first college on Friday, an early acceptance. It's his last choice, but hey, he's going to college.
The cowbells were a huge hit. Every cowbell sold by half time.
I'm still searching for a picture of Ringo dressed as Batgirl. I'm hearing not ALL the girls that bid on him did so out of spite for T. One of them had other motives. One of them thinks he's all that and a bag of chips... hmmm.
Ringo is at the Homecoming Dance. Ringo went to the Homecoming Dance. Ringo WANTED to do go the Homecoming Dance.
Who is this kid Ringo and what did he do with my real son?
The boys each have their job when it's yard day. They each just got promotions. Ringo used to mow (I've posted stories about how Ringo has run into the porch screening, sheered off the head of our well, etc.), T killed weeds, my husband did trimming, and Bones picked up.
T now mows, Ringo trims, Bones kills weeds and my husband picks up and helps to trim. (I'm usually at work.)
With the weed killing has come many questions from Bones regarding pesticides and things that can kill plants. Recently the boys took turns pressure cleaning our driveway with the new attachment my husband bought.
There was a discussion about the use of bleach or not. Every time we hire someone, they use so much bleach, the run off kills our grass, so we do it ourselves with NO bleach.
But this got Bones to thinking about things that kill plants. He started asking things like, "Just HOW MUCH bleach does it take to kill a plant?" 'Mom, if I were to take just a teaspoon of bleach with a cup of water, would the plant die?' And so on and so on.
Hence his great idea of this year's science project. It is a plant, water vs. bleach project. Bonus for us, there won't be any moldy food left in this house for me to accidentally find 3 months down the road.
Their Dad is the Science Project guy, and not because I suck at science, but because I really don't like it. I've never loved science. I love numbers. I love reading. I'll pass on science. So Science and the projects falls to my husband. (Unless it's too 'mathy' like the Chemistry issue that T's Stupid Mom helped him with in my earlier post.)
So on the 10th, Bones and I were in the car and I said "Wait! When is your Science Project due?"
Bones: On the 15th.
Me: OMG! You haven't even started! You haven't bought the plants! It's due in five days!!!
Bones: Mom, relax. Surely I can kill a plant in five days...
I don't know what bleach mixture he's using, it's not my gig this science project, but I think he killed those plants in one day...
VW just called. It went like this.
VW: Hey, what are you doing tomorrow morning?
Me: Probably going to work. What do you NEED me to do?
VW: Well, I'm camping with my boys. I lost my car keys. I need someone to come out and get me so they can take me back home so I can get my spare set.
Me: Wow. Ok. So where exactly are you?
She went through the directions to some camp ground I'd never been to, which surprised me because I thought I'd frickin' been to all of them.
Me: Ok. So, will your cell phone be charged so I can call you when I get lost?
VW: *pause* *laughing* Yes.
Me: Good. It's gonna happen...
Heh. Yeah, I'm telling tales out of school.
I called her back later and said, "Hey, just so you know, it'll be 730 on a Sunday. I'm not taking a shower before I come. You get what you get..."
She replied, laughing, 'There aren't ANY showers out here and we've been out here for three days..."
Me: OH! So *I* get what *I* get?
I can't quit laughing.
I walked in to tell Ringo something this morning and he was in his black dress pants and black shirt. The boys wear uniforms to school. This would not be the uniform.
Me: What's with the dress clothes?
Ringo: It's dress like a teacher day.
Me: You need a tie.
Ringo: *big pause* No I don't...
Me: Yes you do. The male teachers at your school have to wear a tie.
Ringo: *big pause and the expression of trying to explain something to a simple person* I'm... a priest.
Me: Oh! You need a clerical collar...
Ringo: Padre has one for me. I already asked.
So. There you go. I asked for pictures. I don't think any were taken...
T was working on Chemistry yesterday and this was the conversation:
T: Our Chem teacher tried to invent new math. It was terrible. She was doing this double substitution stuff and none of us were following her. I finally leaned over to Karl and said, "I'm taking a higher level math than ANYONE in this class, and making A's, and I have NO IDEA what she's doing. I think that means, she doesn't know what she's doing...".
Me: I can help. Let me see the problem.
T: Mom. You... aren't very good in science.
Ringo: *sound of sucking in all the air in the room*
Ringo: *not breathing as he stared at me*
Me: *blink* *blink*
Me: Are you calling me stupid?
T: *laughing* NO! It's just...
Me: You are. You're calling me stupid. Bring me your frickin' chemistry...
Ringo: *shaking his head* quietly mutters: Uh oh...
I snatched up his chemistry, found the formula he needed on the internet, worked out the problem based on substitution and said to him, "So, are you ready for your Stupid Mom to explain to you how to solve this chemistry problem?"
He was busy doing History and begged off. Every 30 minutes I'd say, 'Ready for your Stupid Mom to help you with your science?" (I did explain to him that just because I hate science, doesn't mean I can't do it. I just don't love it like Math and English.)
So now it's become a big joke. By the end of the night, I'd be in the kitchen and I'd hear Ringo call out to T and say, "Hey. Did you hear about your stupid mom? I heard she's so stupid, she can't even add..."
And invariably, one of the other kids will chime in now and say, "Yeah, T's Mom/my Mom is dumb. You can't even hold a conversation with her..."
Today I was in the kitchen cooking and Ringo came up from behind me, laid his chin on my shoulder and said quietly, "Hey. Did you hear about T's stupid Mom? I'm hearing she can't even read..." "An absolute illiterate, she is," I replied.
It's kind of morphed into it's own life of a Mom joke. Good grief.
It is Homecoming week at the boys' high school and Ringo went as Hulk.
Evidently it went well. He was also sold by the senior class, where T got in a bidding war with a bunch of girls. At first blush it would seem that these girls really wanted Ringo, the prize being they got to dress him the next day. But it seems they bid on him to piss off T.
They're T's classmates.
Ringo had to go to school early today so the winners could dress him. I hear they dressed him as Batgirl, but I've not seen pix.
I think the funny part was during the auction, Ringo was center stage, the Auditorium full, and he did a Hulk impersonation and tore off his shirt. I'm hearing some of the teachers were horrifed, this being a Catholic school and all. I think it's funny.
I said to T this afternoon, "I'm willing to bet that next year they have a rule that seniors must stay dressed. It will be aimed at this year's disrobing incident..."
And I heard that during religion, Padre thought it would be funny if his class of seniors, all dressed as Super Heros, marched into the English class next door. It happned to be T's English class and they were in the process of acting out some plays they're studying.
I think it was done under the guise to kind of tease the English teacher, but it backfired as the English teacher thought it was hilarious, in particular when Ringo got up on the small stage, grabbed one of the playbooks, and realizing that Hulk wasn't supposed to be smart, read it in an Arnold Schwarzenegger menacing voice.
T thought it was funny anyway.
Hey, I didn't get any phone calls at home and nobody is serving a detention for anything, so it had to be all good...
Sidenote: I have 110 blue cowbells sitting in my foyer waiting for the Homecoming game...
My house is quiet this morning. I'm sitting here drinking a cup of coffee and listening to the soft tick of our clock in the family room.
My husband and Bones are sleeping in.
Ringo is taking the SAT again, a hail Mary pass to bring his score up to beyond competitive in hopes that the colleges will ignore his sophomore year's grades. (The goal is a 2150, folks, so keep the fingers crossed, please.)
Mr. T is on his way to the UF LSU game in Gainesville. He's with an LSU family which is cracking me up. Their car is painted with purple and yellow paint, a big LSU magnet on the driver's side door. Meanwhile, when I dropped T off, he had on... no kidding... UF shorts, a UF jersey, a UF baseball cap, in his hand was a UF bleacher seat, and... he had on UF shoes. My sister got them for Christmas one year, the gift of designing their own shoes online through Converse. He designed orange and blue gator Converse shoes. When he walked into the LSU family's house, they busted out laughing. They love it.
I told him, "you will be a rose amongst the thorns today, baby..." as he'll be sitting in the nose bleed section with all those screaming 'GEAUX Tigers!'. He's tailgating with them too, which makes me grin even more.
Homecoming in their high school is quickly approaching next week, as I wrote that Ringo will be dressing as the Hulk. It's all part of Homecoming.
Last home game a few weeks ago, I was on the field with the band, assisting with the sound system, when our football team was struggling with something. The band director looked over to me and yelled, "We need Cowbells..."
Me: One more time?
Band director, shouting: Cowbells! We need cowbells! We need to make noise for the team.
Now, I pride myself in being able to figure out a way to make anything happen, but let me tell you, at 8PM on a Friday night, at a high school football game, 'finding cowbells' was even impossible for me. That doesn't mean I didn't try... as I picked up my phone and started calling everyone and their brother that I knew that could remotely have... cowbells.
But that doesn't mean that we won't have them for Friday's game. Tuesday I take delivery of 108 blue cowbells. My gift to the band was each member gets a cowbell, but it quickly morphed into more. Son#4's Mom, one of my best girlfriends since 1990, said, "Oh, we should sell them!" as she saw me scrambling to find cowbells during the game. After the game when I told the band director I'd get cowbells he said, "Oh, we should sell them!"
So on Friday night, the band will all have little blue cowbells to make noise, and the band will be selling them on the side.
It will give a whole new meaning to, "Need more cowbell..."
I wonder how they'd feel if I made a big sign for the home fans to hold up for the opposing fans to see that read, "Don't fear the reaper..." ? Right. I don't think it'll go over big.
My eldest is a senior. With that comes all the fun little things, perhaps to balance out all the stress like... the fact I fear he won't get into one single college he wants to get into. But we won't go there, m'kay?
So this coming week is homecoming week and my eldest, who has forever been more of the introvert, but is coming out of his shell came in this evening and said, "Well, they are having dress like a super hero day on Tuesday so Chris and I are going to get purple pants, rip up white tshirts and paint ourselves green."
Ringo: You'll want pictures.
And evidently for some fundraiser, he is being sold to the student body. There will be some auction for him and some other seniors and so his brother has asked me for some cash as Ringo has got a few ringers in the school body so as he doesn't go for free. his dear brother and his buddies will pool their money and have just T bid, so it looks like he is going for a lot.
Which I suspect he might... dressed like the Hulk and all. 'Twill be interesting.
Dinner conversation tonight:
T: Kevin never gets full. Sometimes I give him half my sandwich.
(Sidenote: Kevin is a huge football player and T's best friend. His appetite is endless.)
Me: Oh? Does Kevin like them?
T: Are you kidding me? Kevin LOVES your sandwiches!
Me: Ringo's friends used to like my sandwiches, back when he was a freshman.
Ringo, looking at me sideways as he ate: Used to? Mom. I SELL your sandwiches when I want something else. People BID on your sandwiches...
Me: Still? This your fourth year and your friends STILL buy my sandwiches off you?
Ringo: Phht. Yeah. They love them.
Warms my heart, it does, getting up in the morning, making sandwiches, only to have my eldest sell it off so he can buy something perfectly awful like... french fries. Heh.
Bones came home from school on Friday, "Mom! Mom! Mom! I forgot to tell you... you can buy an ad for the yearbook for your 8th grader. They still have room. Here's the form. Thanks!"
Great. We opted for a smaller ad as most kids in his school do the half page. Plus, they only allow two more pictures for twice as much money for a full page and even he didn't see the value.
But that left me doing the big scramble. As with my older boys when they were in 8th grade, I let him pick the pictures.
This is Bones' page, his selection after I had scaled down the number to choose from. My older boys' pages were serious.
There is one picture that is big and dominant and three small ones. Here is his choice for dominant:
For the three small pictures, he picked the following, with the only stipulation I had was that one of them include his two brothers.
Bones as a baby.
I call this one "Blueberry Eye" It's one of my faves and I wanted to make it the dominant picture, but I got shot down.
He likes this one because he looks like he's drinking. I told him he just looks like the clown. Which he is.