Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Friday, February 20, 2004

I have no idea what's supposed to be going on this weekend. I know Reba and the two older girls are supposed to be having a big hamburger supper tonight at church, with yet another Bible Bowl study session to follow. I keep wanting to suggest it would just be easier to cheat, but I haven't said that out loud. Yet.

Anyway, I cannot bear to go with them, and for once I got a pass from Miss Reba. It's just that the idea of having to battle Catherine and make her behave in front of people is more than I wanted to have to do tonight. Call me a lazy parent, but the idea of popping in a Barbie DVD and letting her ruin herself with sugar-coated animated entertainment for a couple of hours actually sounds pretty nice.

Boy, on the other hand, is not so bad at all. He's always been the calm one of the bunch for the most part, and is satisfied to sit and draw or read quietly. I took him with me last night to my zoning board of adjustment meeting, and after a few minutes of pleasant banter in the lobby beforehand, he got his book and sat down in the chairs in the back and read the entire time--a whole hour without a peep. Although once he did have to go pee. But at least he was quiet. Had it been Cat, EVERYONE would have known.

Tomorrow, there is something else going on at church. It's written down on the bulletin board on the refrigerator, but I can't remember what it is. I do know that there is an old truck to be cleaned out.

I will miss it, even if it is stinky. There's a picture pinned up on the wall beside me here from when he first arrived and started dropping oil on the driveway. Sitting there in the bed on the wheelwell is a sunny little princess of about four years in age, wearing blue jean overalls, shirtless, barefoot, smug as a housecat and happy as a clam. The other picture has her standing up, holding a short length of cane pole that had been in a plant I had brought home. She's holding the cane carefully over the side, pretending she's fishing. Hard to do that in a car, you know. It's also hard to be real strict with the little monkey holding the imaginary fishing pole, too. I guess I'll keep her.

Anyway, I imagine it will be a real full weekend. All of you have a good weekend yourselves, and come back Monday and let's see what all happened.

BUT BEFORE THAT--For those of you who took the dialect test yesterday, Jim Smith wants you ALL to go look at this site. It has has all kinds of dot maps showing where all the funny-talking sorts live. (Hint--it's up North)

There now. I'm going home.

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