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 |  Welcome to Whatsit's Wild World. |
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Sometimes I think we're all tightrope walkers suspended on a wire two thousand feet in the air, and so long as we never look down we're okay, but some of us lose momentum and look down for a second and are never quite the same again: we know. ~Dorothy Gilman The Tightrope Walker |
 I have to admit I've been looking forward to the Halloween decorations on WdC. Matt, my six-year-old, took a pair of his socks and put them on his bear's feet. Well, they were cold!  He's been feeling puny lately - I imagine it's sinus drainage - so we are going to the doctor, if they would ever call me back. I imagine they are extra busy today - it took several minutes for me to get a call in because of a busy signal. They have hired a new assistant at work. She has been obnoxious to everybody. We don't know what her problem is, but I do know that we got a lot of stress relief by standing around outside by the portables the other day and talking bad about her. I have a wicker chest that I keep my blankets in. The top had something or the other wrong with it, so we took it off. My dogs take turns crawling in there among all the blankets and going to sleep. Wimzy is in there now, asleep, and a precious thing she is too. I'm glad we have made it around to October - one of my favorite months of the year. |
| Captain Underpants Super Diaper Baby Goosebumps Spongebob Squarepants All of the above are serialized in book form. In my official position as a snob about what I read, I wouldn't so much as read one word of any of these - wouldn't dream of it. Why? Because they are trash. Before, all I had to pick on were Harleqiun Romances. Now I have quite a diverse selection of books to look down on. However, I wouldn't do away with these books. Oh, no, not at all. Because they do serve a purpose. If Super Diaper Baby will get a child's eyeballs glued to a page, I am all for it. Reading is reading. If the choice is trashy or nothing, I'm all for trashy. Because reading is like anything else - the more you practice, the better you get. These trashy things will improve a child's reading level, even if it is in spectacularly small increments, and that is better than nothing. Or, God forbid, wasting away in front of the television. Ever heard a mom say that her child NEVER read? Not anything? Not for money? Not for double chocolate chip cookies? No reading for ANY reason? And then about thirty more minutes into the conversation, when you've exchanged recipes, talked bad about both your relatives, and compared ailments, she will mention that all her son ever wants to do is work on his car. All mechanic, all the time. She will say "He even has a car magazine that he subscribes to, and reads it from cover to cover as soon as it comes in. I can't get him to do anything for the next couple of days. He even keeps back issues in the bathroom in a basket." Wait a minute. I thought this kid didn't read. Guess what? Magazines count as reading. Comic books count. The horoscope in the paper counts. The back of the cereal box counts. Being snobby about a child's reading material will not get the job done, I assure you. Let your child read whenever and whatever. Please! Thank you . . . |
| I'm ba-ack! How are y'all? What has been happening: My father-in-law died last Thursday. He had been a diabetic and heart patient for years, and just had bypass surgery in July. A friend of his was talking to him on the phone and thought he didn't sound right. He lived five miles away, and by the time the friend got there, his heart had given out, due to his blood sugar having dropped to 30. He has finally been reunited with my mother-in-law after 14 years. I'm working at the same school I was last year - you know, the one where the principal told me the kids didn't need to know the fifty states. She has pretty much left me alone this year, so it's going pretty good so far. Emily and Matt are still playing soccer. Anna Claire is playing soccer this year too - she switched from dance. Sometimes we meet ourselves driving to and from the soccer field. Fortunately, it's only a couple of minutes away. What I'm reading: The Last Convertible by Anton Myrer. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott Some Can Whistle by Larry McMurtry Maggie-Now by Betty Smith Some opinions thrown in for good measure I'm sick of seeing Michael Jackson on the television. Let the man rest, please. Yeah, Kanye was a jack . . . , but it seems like the president should have better things to think about. Didn't we already go through this whole health care thing with Hill and Billy? And didn't it flop? What's the difference in Jay Leno's current show and the old one? I miss Patrick Swayze - I've had a crush on him since Dirty Dancing. And now you know what I know. Bye! . |
| 1. Boo! I'm still alive. 2. I started back to school today. I was actually looking forward to it. Maybe now hubby and I can get off of each other's nerves. 3. Hubby got a new job - he is now the music teacher at the school where our girls go, 4. Emily, Anna Claire, and Matt are all playing soccer. 5. I still don't like veggies. |
| A few weeks ago, Emily tried out for the Mississippi Girl Choir. We didn't think she had gotten it because that was several weeks ago and we haven't heard anything. But we got a letter today saying that she had made it. Hooray for Emily! I cooked a roast today. Dadgum, it was good. I didn't do anything but stick it in the oven, and it came out delicious for some reason. The best part is, there is nothing better on the earth than a roast beef sammich on white bread, later on after it has cooled off. Yum yum! We just got home from Bible School. It doesn't officially end until 9:30 at night, which is something I have never understood about this church. But that is "the way they have always done it." I think it's in the bylaws or something that they have to continually do everything the same way over and over. I'm watching The Golden Girls. Remember that show? It still makes me laugh. Night night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite. |
| Last Thursday, my mother said "Let's go on a trip! I'll pay for it with my credit card. I've got to get away for a few days!" How can you turn that down? We wound up going to a resort area in Alabama called The Wharf, kind of near Foley, which is famous for the outlet malls, and Orange Beach. We had seven people in one car - three kids and four adults, plus my mother's poodle - but that was the only downfall. We didn't do that much but eat and relax. Vacation Bible School is this week. I'm teaching Missions, which is what I always do. Each class comes to me for a little twenty minute lesson. That's why I like it - I don't have to keep up with the same children all week. My dogs need washing, and I keep putting it off. Anybody want to volunteer? |
| I have become addicted to an online game. It would probably be boring to most people, but this one has a certain following. You have to enter a name before you enter, and I see the same people in there over and over, just as I am. I always use X the Owl as my name - dunno why I picked that, it just popped into my head. Here's the link: http://www.eastoftheweb.com/games/multiPopword_1a.html You have a whole bunch of random letters on the screen which you have to connect to make words. I suppose it appeals to my basic sense of being a word addict. Plus, it shows everybody's scores at the end of the game, and I can't be satisfied until I'm toward the top of the list. Silly, huh? It's good to do at the end of the day to let my mind wear down. Isn't it odd how a grown-up can't leave a game alone? |
| Extreme Cuteness We went to our friends' house tonight. They have what could well be considered THE cutest dog in the world, a little 1.8 pound Yorkie named Lulu. I loved to watch her walk - just like a little wind-up animal. My cute meter is now over the top. How Do You Solve the Problem of a Poodle? Speaking of dogs, my mother has this poodle. I have mentioned before that he has bitten her several times. Two or three of these times she has had to have stitches. Well, guess what? This dog is now on Prozac. Yep. My mother's dog has succombed to the quintessential American Baby Boomer complaint - the need for a mood lifter. Good thing that dog doesn't belong to me. He would have succombed to having his teeth knocked down his throat. Sleep, or the Lack of It With getting up early out of the way, I am rapidly turning into a night owl. It's 1AM right now - I never would consider being up this late during the school year. I always suspected I should have had a job that started a lot later than 7AM. I do my best suspecting when I get up at 5AM. Or I should say, when I wake up at 5 and postpone getting up until 5:30. What Day Is It? You're About to Find Out. Today is my third WdC birthday. I am most sincerely feeling smug for still being around here after all this time. Is It Just Me . . . , , , or does Blogville always seem particularly slow in the summer? I wonder why this is. |
| Last week my mother had her girls over - that means her Bunko club. They don't even play Bunko anymore, they just get together to eat and run their mouths. The member who is giving the party that month feels like she has to outdo the previous party-giver on the meal she serves. So I was helping Mama get her house fixed - Martha Stewart couldn't have found a way to improve my mother's house, but she was dissatisfied with it - and help with the grocery shopping. She sent me to Walmart with a signed blank check. It had nothing on it but her signature. I was a little worried about this, because I kept thinking that when they found out I wasn't her, it would be a problem. But I went around and picked everything up she needed, and approached the checkout area with trepidation. The cashier checked and bagged everything and announced the amount. A thought popped into my mind at that instant: I remembered that you could hand the cashier the check and they would print it out. That way, at least they wouldn't see that my handwriting was different from the signature. I handed the cashier the check. Everything was going fine until she asked me to do signature verification. You know the little machine that they have on your side of the counter to run your credit or debit card through then punch in your ID number? A screen popped up on this machine for me to sign my name so they could verify that my signature was the same as on the check. I guess they do this when the cashier doesn't actually see the person signing the check - I had pulled Mama's check out of my purse already signed. My handwriting is totally different from my mother's. Hers is slanted and I write straight up and down, plus I write a lot bigger than she does. I had already decided that if the check thing didn't work, I'd just pay cash and she could pay me back, but what if they tried to say I had stolen the check? Would I be indicted for forgery? All of this ran through my mind in an instant. I'm not normally a worrier, but this is what my mind decided to pull on me that day. Then I had to wonder if I should just be honest and sign my name, or take the road of least resistance and sign Mama's name. I signed my mother's name. In my handwriting - I didn't even attempt to imitate her handwriting. And guess what? It was accepted. It was all I could do not to jump for joy right there in the Walmart, But guess what else? My thought at the time was that Walmart wasted their money on that signature verification program if it accepted my signature for my mother's - no two handwritings could be any more different. |
| Reasons I have to feel smug: 1. We have an older couple in our church who rarely get out. Our ladies' group decided to take dinner to them after church this morning. So this morning, I got up, got kids ready, got myself ready, and cooked my contribution to the dinner, all before church. 2. We always have doughnuts at church on the first Sunday of the month. So I went to Walmart to get the doughnuts too. 3. The pants I put on to wear to church tonight are too big. They kept sliding down every time I stood up. In all fairness, they are old and may be stretched. It was still kind of nice to have sliding-down pants. 4. When I tucked my little boy in, he told me, very sweetly and without a bunch of silliness, how much he loved me. 5. Sam is getting up and taking Emily and Matt to soccer camp tomorrow at Millsaps College. It should last from about 8 to 11:30. So I ought to be able to get a few things done without them hanging around. Soccer camp lasts all week, so I may get in Matt's room at some point to sneak around and throw a few things out. I already did this in Emily and Anna Claire's room. I can throw stuff out with them there, because they are pretty realistic about what they don't want anymore. But Matt is a pack rat. My thought is that if he doesn't see me throw it out, it will be okay. I'm talking about toys from Happy Meals he doesn't even know he has, much less plays with. These things pile up. Where better to brag on yourself than your blog? Y'all are stuck with it, sorry. Okay, I'm not THAT sorry, I enjoy bragging on myself every now and then. |
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Well, it is the time of miracles I guess.