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 09, 2004

As for other stuff--I have no idea. This weekend was a long one, and my brain has turned into a small, cold bowl of gravy. I do remember that Ashley enjoyed getting to go to the Barons game. Birmingham lost, but she still had a good time. Didn't get in until 11. I had to go back up to the church building to get her. Whew.

In between dropping her off and suppertime, I also seem to recall going down to the foot of the hill and picking up some food from the Chinese joint there beside the Verizon store and the custom nail place. Nothing says good food like random electrical interference and fingernail clippings. We had gotten food there when we first moved to Trussville, and it was pretty good, but sometime in there it went downhill a bit so we quit going. I was so beat Friday after meeting all the teachers and stuff, though, that I just couldn't bear to set in to cook anything, nor go very far afield to hunt and gather. So, I rolled the dice to see what they could cook up.

It seems that they have taken a page from playbook of the Chinese place we usually patronize over on Chalkville Road, namely the inexplicable hiring of Anglo waitresses. I assume this is to help out with the language thing, as well as for decorative purposes. I walked in and was greeted by a couple of blonde high schoolers, each sporting a swath of UV-A tanned belly flesh, one with the fashionable raccoon eyes, and both sharing twelve brain cells betwixt them. They looked like they might be auditioning as stand-ins for the next Paris Hilton/Nicole Ritchie road show.

I went to order and the girl in the dark shirt looked down at the counter and interrupted me to tell Racoon Eyes that Mike was trying to call her on her cell phone. Thanks. Finished ordering--egg rolls, hot and sour soup, house lo mein, sweet and sour chicken, Mongolian beef--and noticed that the lady beside me, who was one of the moms from Rebecca's soccer team, was having some trouble with Raccoon Eyes. "Sorry, but I gave you a fifty, and you only gave me change for a twenty."

Confusion, chaos, and a very soft clanging sound as at least two ideas bounced around in Miss Eyes' head. Finally got it figured out when the young Chinese girl who actually runs the place came out and made change.

Stood and made small talk with the soccer mom. She was sorry to hear Rebecca didn't want to play anymore. I told her the biggest adjustment was having free time. She left, others came and went, and finally my order was ready. Home, eat, and hey! pretty good. Might have to go back sometime.

Let's see, now--that was Friday, as for other stuff on Saturday--I tried to epoxy the little battery clip back together on the battery charger for the video camera. Took forever to find a battery for it a while back, and now I can't charge it. ::sigh:: By the way, epoxy ain't all it's cracked up to be.

Went to the store for a plastic mattress cover. It seems that sometime early Saturday morning, Youngest was dreaming of swimming in a gigantic warm sea while drinking a tubful of lemondade in the rain, and managed to fill her bed up with her own little ocean of lemonade. Which under normal circumstances (!) wouldn't have been a terrible tragedy, seeing as how we have all the mattresses covered with zippered vinyl covers. This does not negate the fact, however, that they are prone to damage. It seems the one on her bed had a hole in it. And it did what holes by nature are best at, that is, allowing childwater to drain onto the nice mattress underneath. ::sigh:: She tried mightily to clean it up.

Anyway, sometime in there it was time to take a break and go to the store and get a replacement. Figured I would zip into Martha Stewart's partner and see what they had. Aside from the store being deserted on a bright Saturday afternoon, I found that they had several zippered vinyl mattress covers. Absolutely zero of which were for a twin-size bed. Figures. I always debate with myself about which store to stop at--I figure if I stop at K-Mart, and they have what I'm looking for, I come out better because I never have to wait in line to check out, and I can usually park close to the front door. But, 56 times out of 63, they don't have what I need, and I have to go on up the hill to Wal-Mart, having wasted valuable, precious time I could have used to avoid doing anything substantive.

On up the hill to Wal-Mart, where the aisles were crowded with excited school children filling up on last minute supplies. On to the bedding part of the store. Boxes and boxes of covers, including a box full of twin sizes. Got two, just in case.

Home for more cleaning, more rearranging, more stacking. Took Jonathan to go get his hair cut. He's been needing one for a while. Apparently the lady who cut his hair thought so, too, even though this was their first time to meet. She looked something like a Halloween prop, with broomstraw-textured processed blonde and black-streaked hair standing up all around her head like a fright wig. Eeech. Was dead set on using the clipper with guard to buzz his head instead of the more time-consuming scissors. I warned her not to get it too short lest she feel the Wrath of Mom. She still cut it pretty danged short, but lucky for her and for me it wasn't all peeled and gappy. And Boy likes it just fine.

Then on back home again, more moving and packing away, then baths and hair washing and general grooming, and into bed with them all. Long day.

Sunday, we churched. Had to get onto one kid in Reba's class before class even got underway. Six years old, with the mind of a stone cold killer. Really. I predict he'll go to jail within ten years. Worship, then home, lunch, then time to get Ashley to do her part of the chores that she neglected Saturday to go sell cards and clean out her closet. She had bathroom duty. Didn't want to clean the toilet. Had to explain that not all of the stains were caused by Boy's lack of aiming ability. Turmoil, anger. Whatever. The toilet was duly cleaned. I now have five new gray hairs.

Back to church, short meal afterwards, then home to get them all in the bed and ready for today. Sure wish I was.

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