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, March 21, 2005
I got a bunch of junk to do today, and it's not going to be pleasant because it will require me to be locked into a car with my coworker who smokes like Kilauea while we drive slowly around downtown looking for tree grates that need to be replaced. It is the type of horrifyingly banal assignment that can only be made worse by the almost certain fact that it is merely an exercise in futility.
SO, you're gonna have to hold on tight for the weekend recap--Friday: storebought pizza; laundry; waiting up for Oldest to get back from band trip; upon arrival, yet more layers of emotional anguish due to her stupid "friends"; fitful sleep. Saturday: Snuggle with Miss Reba; breakfast; laundry; trek up to church building once more for Reba and kids to attempt to meet with woman who's supposed to be the coordinator for one of the kid's projects; made a quick run to Wal-Mart (yea!) to pick up some weed-n-feed, snacks, bird seed, and detergent; ran back to pick up rest of family, once again find out that person being waited on didn't show up; left Oldest there to work on her visual aids for her debate topic, which, if you knew the topic would make the idea of "visual aids" be very funny, but I'm not going to tell you because I think the topic's stupid; drove back to the house and donned a clear plastic Mickey Mouse poncho from Disney World so I could throw out the bagful of plant-killer/plant-fertilizer stuff I had gotten so I wouldn't get wet in the light rain that was falling; breathed in way too much chaff from the bucket full of powdery chemical pellets, which is probably a bad thing; finished up and the sprinkling rain stopped; laundry; received call from Oldest to come back and pick her up; back to Leeds, back home; went and got a haircut AND was able to get the cute girl to do it--she's apparently pretty popular, being that on the sign-in sheet, hers was the only name (Alisha, by the way) listed for when people wanted a specific stylist; paid and thanked her for resisting the urge to mess it up simply because I had on one of my Auburn sweatshirts; home again, fold laundry; type some stuff for Rebecca's scrapbook; give lecture to Oldest about not taking out her anger and hostility caused by her "friends" on members of her family; go outside and look around at all the stuff I still have to do; decided to clean the bird feeders; chased the children around the yard; got the bag of bird seed and filled up the storage bucket and filled all the feeders; laundry; supper; start process of cleaning children; get them all finished up and in the bed; collapse. Sunday: Teach Rebecca and Jonathan's class; go to worship; midway through have to make Ashley move on the other side of me so she'll quit attempting to take out her still boiling hostility toward her "friends" on Jonathan, who was sitting beside her; wonder why teenagers have to be psychopaths; go visit Ashley's grandparents; go back to church so Oldest can go to girl's songleading class; sit in auditorium and the guy in the control room decides to turn the video camera on so that it feeds through the data projector onto the projections screens, allowing two gigantic screens to be filled with images of the back of my head and of restless children; admire the nice job Alisha did on the back of my head, especially the troublesome area at the nape of my neck; make children behave instead of acting like they're auditioning for Supernanny; visitors start trickling in and thankfully the video feed switches to the announcements; evening worship; skip out on after-service meal in favor of something from Wendy's we can eat on the way home so Reba can get back to studying for her test; kids in pajamas; finish watching the rest of Aladdin with them; kids to bed; collapse.
SO, there you go--the condensed, compacted version of ephemeral chaos. NOW THEN, off to be killed by second-hand smoke!
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