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.
Monday, August 16, 2004
Got everyone up and moving and dressed. Reba was out the door with Oldest after breakfast to go have fun at the stadium, and I started a load of clothes and began the process of guiding the children through their chores. Boy had bathroom duty, so I gave him a can of cleaner, a bottle of Windex, and a tug of the ear and sent him on his way. Rebecca had partial floor duty--Catherine has felt awfully left out in all the chore-dispensing, and has been bugging me for a couple of weeks now to let her help out.
She is most helpful, though, only when confined to a straightjacket, but since she manages to always gnaw her way out, I figured I would let her see what she could do as far as cleaning up. She wanted desperately to mop the floor, so Rebecca gave up that part of her tasks and concentrated on vacuuming.
First though, sweeping. I gave Catherine the broom and the Dustbuster and the dustpan and brush and let her go. Not quite clear on the concept of getting the dirt into a small, centralized pile. Nor of the need to get all the dirt. Nor that it was not a good idea to put the dirty broom on the kitchen table. But we got all that worked out. Then a run around the perimeter with the little vacuum, then another swipe with the broom, and then the thing she had been beside herself to do--the squirty mop!
It’s one of those near-useless Clorox things with a jug of cleaner and a squirt trigger and a thin disposable pad on the bottom. I figure it’s probably good enough for getting the grime up. Had to explain about going back and forth and about keeping both hands in contact with the handle of the mop.
She actually did a pretty good job. She has lots of energy.
We folded a few clothes and then I made them put on their “go eat lunch with Grandma” clothes while I jumped in the shower. We were supposed to meet my mom and sister at the Hunan Garden over in Hoover right at noon, and by the time I got out of the shower we should be ready to leave with a few minutes to spare.
Providing that someone who had gone earlier in the morning over to the stadium was back. Because she knew what time we needed to leave in order to get there on time.
Out of the shower, dress in my “see my Mama” clothes, and…wait.
Finally, about 11:30 I heard the garage door go up and was about to rush the kids downstairs so we could leave. No dice. Had to get themselves cleaned up again. Called my sister and gave ourselves another thirty minutes. Finally out the door and off to the exotic province of Hunan. Got there right at noon:30 and saw my mom and sister pulling into the parking lot at the exact same time. Went in, got a horrid small round table for six by the kitchen, packed in two more chairs for the eight of us, and went about figuring out what sorts of animal we wanted to eat.
Ordered, chatted, caught up on Mom’s work--they’ve been upgrading their computer system and it sounds like a Three Stooges’ production. What’s weird is my mom seems pretty savvy about the whole thing, which is pretty cool for my mom. Then Oldest and Youngest started arguing over a piece of Mongolian beef as if both of them were toddlers fighting over a toy. ::sigh:: Just the sort of thing that makes my blood pressure skyrocket and makes me think bad thoughts about my children. Honest to goodness, they KNOW better than to act like that. Oldest especially, having the benefit of AGE, should know better. The body of a woman, the mind of a baby, devoid of shame. It makes my head throb all over again just thinking about it. OH! And look, more white hair! At this rate, it’ll be completely changed by January.
The rest of the meal was much quieter. Embarrassed silence has a way of doing that.
The food was pretty good, though. We finished up and then my sister and I fought over who should pay the tab, although I must say it was done in a much more genteel manner than the conflict between my children, and did not result in strips of beef being held high above our heads nor any shouting.
We said our good-byes to them both, and then it was time to head on over to the Galleria for some clothes-buying. We were going to hit Penneys and Sears and Parisian, and since they are all right there together and just right up the road, it made some sense to brave Satan’s Own parking lot and the ton of people wandering around inside.
BUT ALAS, it is getting close to quitting time for the day, so you’ll have to hear about that particular escapade tomorrow! Along with the Speedo story.
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