The Blog With No Name

We (a group of six) have recently (within the past year) discovered the joys of TRIVIA CONTESTS. A particularly nice one, small and for a good cause (the local library), was being held once per month when we discovered them. We came in second the first time we played, and won the next time. Since that time, late last fall, we have signed up for almost every single game they were having. All have been cancelled. I think we jinxed them. So tomorrow night, instead of trouncing the competition and raising money for the kids department at the library, we will simply go out to eat. Luckily there are OTHER TRIVIA GAMES in town. Time to start studying… (that’s the sad part – at least two of us have contemplated studying before games.)

So first I must confess that this is my own fault – I claim to set firm deadlines, and when I deviate from them I always always suffer. So I admit that straight away. But I’m still pissed. The treasurer wanted some budget stuff in the newsletter and called to ask the day after the deadline. I foolishly offered to let her email the data to me at home last night, so that I could finish it up and have it ready to print first thing this morning. So the evening progresses – no spreadsheet, no communication whatsoever. At last I go to bed, fuming, and am kept awake most of the night by white-hot flashes of fury. I finally get up early (as you can see from the posting time) to discover an email sent 30 minutes after I retired for the evening, saying that the treasurer and my boss had decided not to run the budget info after all. They both have cell phones; they both appear to know my phone number; would it have fucking killed one of them to call me? I know this is petty but I cannot recall being so angry recently.

(Aug 4: I look back on crap like this and become surer every day that I’m bipolar or something similar. How dumb!)

Well, her room is getting close to done. The walls are pink, the ceiling is green. The bookcases are slowly changing from white IKEA particleboard to pink with green shelves (I personally think that will look ghastly, but on the other hand it’s not my room). We have eliminated maybe 2% of the junk that was in there; I’m hoping for terrible weather this coming week so that she and I can sort through it and (please $Deity) get rid of a lot. She needs to learn to type, so that she can do her writing on the computer. Heck, I’ll buy her a flash drive. She must have a whole shelf or two of notebooks full of super-hero witch-girl stories. Sigh. And boxes of hair thingies (that she NEVER USES!). And boxes of erasers, and pencil grips, and-yes, she’s an office-supply junkie just like her mom, why do you ask??

I must get some photos here of her room soon. Really, I will. Promise.

I have noticed recently that in most cases when I see a boy riding a bicycle, he is talking on a cell phone at the same time. I should say, boys of a certain age – young teenagers. It’s rather comical. Probably just as unsafe as driving while talking.

I worked on a little project today, the completion of which will make me JUMP UP AND DOWN FOR JOY. It’s been on my nightmare to-do list for three years. As usual, I find that once I start, the thing(s) I thought would take hours and hours and days take, oh, fifteen, twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour.

My boss came back from London too. With books for me (e.g., the sixth HP book, kids paperback edition from the UK publisher). Alas, her luggage didn’t make it back with her. So I have to wait another day for my cryptic crosswords and HP:HBP.

My co-worker, having taken last week off, will be back this week to prepare for VBS the following week. Having taken last week off, she will be full of anxiety and brimming over with stream-of-consciousness, “oh and another thing…” ideas and energy. PRAY FOR ME.

This time, she’s at “Lutheran Boot Camp,” as my husband calls it, the same camp where I spent a few weeks each summer for a few years, several decades ago. She flopped right down on the grass next to the counselor and just started talking up a storm. (Shocking, I know.) That same counselor had to cajole her into giving me a good-bye hug. This time, a whole week (Sunday to Friday)! Charles is painting her room while she’s gone – green ceiling and pink walls. Gack.

according to this web site, I can type over 100 words per minute.

I beheld a glorious sight this morning – my precious little son, sitting in the big overstuffed chair in the living room, finger moving slowly from word to word as he read an actual by-God, words-not-pictures, BOOK. Granted, it was an abridged kiddie version of “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” but still, he was READING!!!!

We are off soon, hours early, to get good seats at the best fireworks show in the Quads. BOOM! Then tomorrow morning, if I can get them out of bed in time, I’d like to take the kiddies to the cardboard boat regatta, always good for a laugh. Wish me luck!