My brain went in odd directions this weekend. I spent a lot of time freaking out and/or being irritated about work-related things and then on three separate occasions decided to screw all that and focus on better and more useful endeavors. (It really worked, as you can tell, since I had to disengage three times.)
I took advantage of Virginia's "tax free" weekend and got the kid all outfitted for school with new shirts and long pants that end closer to his ankles than his knees and the 5 things that we hadn't yet bought on his school supply list. I'm amused to report he chose a GI Joe backpack for this year, though he has yet to see the movie and given other friends' reviews probably won't see it any time soon. I'm also amused to report that I am pleased at the realization that my first-grader is sharp and funny and perceptive, albeit combative -- and yet a tiny bit sad that he no longer bears any similarity at all with the jolly and easygoing baby who was completely awed by any and every new thing to come his way. On the other hand, if he were six and still acting two, I'd probably be sad about that. So what do I know?
I figured out what to get my grandparents for their 60th wedding anniversary. I will tell you how it is received. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who will think it is anything other than a little bit off.
I am going to see most of the Illinois contingent in a couple weeks. Due to a series of last-minute maneuvering by the siblings of Not Your Average Blogger, he is saving vacation time to be with them in October. Apparently they've decided to take his parents' and brother's ashes up to the Grand Canyon rim and toss 'em into the abyss. Since the Young Prince will be in school, NYAB will be going solo. And since we actually used most of our time off this year and need to save some for Christmas, NYAB will not be accompanying me on our usual Annual Midwest Tour. Instead, the kid and I are flying to Winchester and then driving home in my grandmother's Camaro, which I'm very excited to be getting because it is pretty, and which NYAB is less thrilled about but OK with because it will give us a third quasi-reliable vehicle to use for our commutes.
So last night, my father informed me that the tribal elders held a council and it was decided that a frumpy middle-aged woman and her blathery soon-to-be-first-grader were at great risk traveling alone halfway across the country in a quasi-reliable antique car, and that he had been tasked to accompany us as a bodyguard. I am not sure how you'd classify my reaction -- maybe "patronizing"?? I know the words, "well, if it makes YOU feel better" came out of my mouth at one point. One thing my reaction definitely lacked was gratitude, which I feel sort of guilty about in hindsight. I am just tickled to pieces by this in so many ways. I can't figure out if it means that my family has gotten really old and paranoid, or if they think I'm that flighty and foolish, or if they don't realize that I've got a cellphone and a lot of anger to carry us through adversity or what. Regardless, I have to confess that I find it incredibly sweet and touching that they actually care if we get dead. And I'm grateful.
I'm not sure what this means for the various side trips I had planned -- wanted to go see a friend's new baby, wanted to reconnect with some other friends I haven't seen in 25 years, etc. -- but it seems unkind to drag my father along on this stuff, so it might have to wait a while. I suppose the car isn't really the best choice for such jaunts either, so I may just chuck it all and head back home directly.
I have plenty of time to decide, however. Today I take the kid to find out if he's a plague carrier, and next Sunday I find out if my deep-dark-chocolate-with-chocolate-chips-and-bacon cookies are prize-winners at the county fair. I still need a name for those suckers. Smokehouse Sweeties? Cocoa Bellies? Anyone? Names with "Pig" in them will not be considered.
With all the stress and deadlines, and congressional foofah you deal with, I would hate to be the serial killing highway nomad who made you a target! (But as annoying as it is, I am always very pleased when my mother demands I call her before I pull into the garage, and talk to her as I walk in the house, lest there be dragons waiting in the dark.)
Posted by: lane | August 10, 2009 at 09:39 AM
I don't know about the cookies, but I think you need a bumper sticker that says "I've got a cell phone and a lot of anger." Fair warning, would-be troublemakers.
Posted by: Katherine | August 10, 2009 at 11:34 AM
I like Smokehouse Sweeties. and I agree with Katherine about the bumper sticker. I need one, too!
Posted by: ardentdelerium | August 10, 2009 at 03:10 PM
How old is the camaro? You could be like Smokey and the Bandit, although that was a Transam... Close enough though!
Perhaps if you told your father all about all the side trips you wanted to take and people to see, he would worry about you less, and also not want to go.
I like cocoa bellies, or bacochocochip...
Posted by: cosmiccamper | August 10, 2009 at 03:42 PM
Smokehouse Sweeties. Definitely.
Posted by: K | August 11, 2009 at 10:03 AM