Something Weekend This Way Comes
Well, at least there aren’t three different soccer games to try to find. I have a multitude of chores to do this weekend—since it rained, I’m going to have to cut the grass; then there’s the semi-permanent (and probably highly flammable) jackleg wiring of the Incredible Pixie Fountain of Joyful Excrescence; the laying of hard pavers underneath the floor of the Very Large, Not At All Secret, Childrens’ Playhouse Which is NOT a Storage Building; the Re-Creation of Paradise (In Your OWN Backyard)—Chapter 93: Climbing Hydrangeas—and that’s just the hard-labor part of my sentence.

There are also Uplifting Activities, including the Youth of the Church Cook Saturday Breakfast for the Congregation (which will require that all six of the Possumclan be up and at the church building by 8 a.m.) and the Youth Day on Sunday (which will require that all six of the Possumclan find some excuse to hang around Leeds for a couple of hours to keep from having to go home then turn right back around and go to the building since the lecture is at 2, and will also require that we help bring refreshments for the kids who will be visiting from other congregations). I’m sure God is pleased that these are church events; otherwise he would have to start doling out forgiveness for the string of mild, yet sinful, oaths into which I would otherwise launch.

And somewhere in there, I’m going to have to find time to visit with my sister, who is up from Mobile for the week for some R&R at Mom’s house. Which should make for PLENTY of blogfodder, or a whole nother shelf in the Southern Lit section of the bookstore. I’ve mentioned it before, but it bears repeating that our personal interaction has the flavor of juggling baby bobcats while watching a TV show combining the finest elements of Hardball, Jeopardy, COPS, Bugs Bunny, Meet the Press, and Jackass. How our mother has put up with both of us for so long without resorting to firearms is beyond me. But what a grand spectacle, eh?

A strange coincidence, but she just called as I was writing this to say she was home! How odd. Topics we managed to discuss in fifteen minutes: Her and her partners’ rheumatology office is moving for the fifty jillionth time—I suggested getting a trailer; Rick and Bubba and Dickie Nadmeyer; I once more neglected to send her a birthday card within at least a week of her actual birthday; the wonderful birthday gift her nurse got her from Cracker Barrel—The Kung Fu Gerbil; Cracker Barrel has very slow service, enabling people time to find the perfect gift; the effect of Kung Fu Gerbils on senile cats; Earl Hilliard vs. a stump, in which the stump soundly trounces Hilliard in a test of intellectual prowess; I-65 from Mobile to Birmingham moves at least two miles per hour faster than the moving sidewalk at the airport; having an Infiniti I35 makes the trip worthwhile; policemen are nice; the superiority of old-time hymns over all that new crap they wrote after about 1924; and the reprogramming of Mom’s answering machine/fax machine. What a hoot!

So, have a wonderful weekend, and I’ll see you Monday.
posted by Terry at 4:16:00 PM