The Boys of Summer

In two weeks, when my boys are driving me crazy, and I'm drunk 6 hours a day, and I am convinced I'm going to be hospitalized in full fetal whimpering-ness, remind me that at some point, I WAS actually looking forward to summer.

I am looking forward to NOT packing lunches. Smelling ham (which, by the way, is the only luncheon meat my kids will eat) at 6:30 in the morning is nauseating. And our school (not that I'm complaining) is peanut free, which means on those lazy mornings when I am desperate to throw something in the box and be done with it, I can't make that blessed lunchtime staple, the pb&j. So, it's always ham and a fruit, and Kool Aid and rummaging through the dishwasher because I pack in a reusable box that requires no plastic bags, and oy. I'm glad not to have to do that.

Also, I am looking forward to not chasing down uniform socks. The boys have to wear white crew socks, and it seems that no pair ever elope to the laundry basket together. There is always a third wheel, a pathetic hanger-on who can't take the hint. Those socks have to be bleached every week, and while they are still white, there are about a third as many as there were at the beginning of the year and therefore have to be washed a third again as often to keep the kids' feet covered.

Also, I am TOTALLY over looking for that godforsaken belt in the morning. For whatever reasons, my kids come home and do some sort of ritualized strip every afternoon. Shoes flop into the playroom. Socks and shorts go by the wayside in the bathroom. Shirts often, but not always, make it up the stairs. The belt? The belt mystically disappears. We find it under the sofa, in the laundry basket, under the dresser. That thing has a nightlife I can't imagine. We turn off the dark and the belt goes wild.

I am also over the vast forest of trees that comes home every afternoon. A Brazilian rain forest goes into that red folder every day. Pulp describing parties, reminders, worksheets, homework, invitations, sign ups, a BILLION things in that folder every day. If I don't sort through it all, it accumulates in a very visible way that tells the teacher I'm not paying attention. If it came through email, I could ignore it without anyone noticing. Much less embarrassing for all concerned.

I could also live without bedtime rituals. Not that teeth shouldn't be brushed in the summer, or that baths don't need to be taken. Baths just need to be taken a LITTLE less frequently in the summer. (Scientific proof shows that kids get clean from the chlorine in the pool). Hair? Greasy, sunblocked hair is very 'in' this year. Floss those teeth and let's be done with it.

So, before I become totally disillusioned and revert to my summer alcoholism, let's hear it for summer! When a kid can be a kid, and a parent can be slightly less of a parent. Cheers!

Apocalypse To-Do

WOW. So this is the year. The year all the weirdos come out and spread their psychotic crap around. Apparently, per aforementioned weirdos, the world is going to end in Rapture on Saturday. Usually, this kind of Doomsday nonsense means bad news for me, but this is actually a happy tiding.

As a result of impending global shutdown, I am making a pre-Rapture To-Do/Don't List.

1. Do not clean out refrigerator


2. DO find George Clooney (human, not dog) and assault him.


3. Do not look for mates in the missing sock pile


4. DO buy shelves' worth of margarita mix


5. Don't bother to explain to E about what people do with their 'public' hair


6. Ride a motorcycle


7. Do not autopay credit card


8. Fly to Tahiti


9. Do not run on treadmill


10. Do not run at all


11. Drink a giant milkshake


12. Rescue all the dogs at the shelter


13. Do not do laundry or dishes


14. Do tell that bitch in carpool what I think of her


15. Do not wear sunblock and a hat


16. Do not fix roof leak


17. Sit back, relax, drink heavily, and wait for the creepy angel chorus

The post-Rapture To-Do/Don't scenario is kinda ok, too.

• Hell is cooler than Mobile in the summer


• I won't have to deal with the bitch from carpool anymore


• I'll get to spend eternity with most of my friends.


• I won't have to watch M watch the Bruins lose the Stanley Cup playoffs


• I'll probably be able to sleep in on Sunday, assuming the Apocalypse is quiet


• My whole next week's schedule just opened up


• I won't have to make plans to entertain my children non-stop this summer

While I am bummed that some of my friends will be given the free pass to the pearly gates, I realize we all reap what we sow. Which means there will be little martini plants cropping up in my garden any time now. And I will be basking in the toasty flames of hell, reeking of sulfur, but enjoying some s'mores.

Farewell to everyone. If I don't see you before Saturday, have a nice eternity.

The Funny One

I'm having myself a morning. Maybe it's because I'm coming off the high of being the center of attention on my birthday. Maybe it's because I'm getting better with age. Maybe it's something besides allergens in the air.
Regardless, I'm feeling pretty good about myself: skinny, charming, sophisticated, popular, and of course, witty. I'm a 10.

Shut up, or you'll ruin it.

Of course, everything out of my mouth is funny so far. Which brings me to a long-standing household debate. Because M and I are competitive, and you know, funny, we have light-hearted discussions about who's the Funny One.
In defense of me:
I find that my funniness is consistent, self-deprecating, has universal appeal, and can go either high- or low- brow. I can exploit all means of funny, including pun, potty, observational, parody, and malicious.
According to Wikipedia, the Authority Of The Universe, 5 basic pillars support the funny in Western culture:

1. Hyperbole--I will make you die laughing.



2. Metaphor--I'm the queen of comedy.



3. Farce--That's what she said.



4. Reframing--my context is better than yours.



5. Timing--the secret to comedy is--ooh, gotta go.

Ergo, I'm funny. To further describe my funniness, I direct you to Rowan Atkinson, also known as the imitable Mr. Bean. Mr. Bean asserts that some one can become funny:

By behaving in an unusual way
By being in an unusual place
By being the wrong size

To whit:
Drunk, Mobile, Alabama, and too short for my weight.

Clearly, by Aristotelian, Plutonian and Dumbonian logic processes, I am funny.

Additionally, I make my friends laugh. While this evidence is largely circumstantial, it helps buttress my claims.

My arguments AGAINST M being the funny one:

1. Sometimes he's not funny


2. He excludes a huge number of topics that he does not consider funny, but clearly are: Seattle Seahawks' Super Bowl Appearances, his driving, the fairness of the American League East, Bruins' quests for Stanley Cup glory, my credit card spending, Science Fiction nerd-dom, skinny arms, anti-depressants' adverse impact on sex drive (mine), the narrowing market for literary fiction. (OK, that's not funny. But it WILL make you laugh)


3. M's humor lacks universal appeal. So that, for example, Alex Trebek's snobby prickishness = funny. My kids accidentally kicking M in the nuts = not funny. But in fact, BOTH are funny.


4. He does not always find me funny. This point clearly calls any sense of humor he claims to have into question. Because clearly, I'm FUNNY.

As I write all this, I realize the word funny, is in itself, funny. You can't say it without smiling.

In any case, as I emerge from my post-birthday euphoria, I thank you all for your endorsement of me as the funny one.

Seriously.

WHY IS IT SO HARD TO POST?

I just can't get to it these days. Blame the weather, my really clean bathrooms, I don't know what the deal is. Especially since funny stuff has happened.

We had:

• S at school on Mother's Day announcing that there were martinis for everyone!


• An epic kindergarten graduation party


• School's spring festival. I HATE festivals and fairs.


• A stray dog sleepover


• Lifelong friends visiting from SoCal, and the subsequent embarrassment of showing them around Alabama


• Some thoughts on the collective Ewok celebration dance that embarrassing Americans did after the secretive assassination of public enemy #1


• Birthdays


• Anniversaries


• Half of Alabama destroyed by the wrath of the Tornado Gods


• Plague


• Pestilence


• Flood


• Apocalypse

And the thing is, I haven't EVEN played Bejeweled Blitz. Where does ALL my time GO?

Sorry. This isn't really so much a post as an excuse telling you why there are no posts. I'll work on it. Right after I finish my To-Do list. Really.