On Memories
Last Saturday morning I packed a picnic lunch for the three of us and headed off to a park in the older part of our city. I’d been to the park before, but many years ago which was why we were converging there with other people on a sticky day in July. It was an elementary school reunion.
I know. I know. I graduated from high school eleven years ago, but the class I should’ve been with graduated a year later (credits transferred well and I took some college classes during the summers. It was more a matter of motivation than intelligence, so don’t think I’m attempting to prove some sort of intellectual superiority…I’ll do that some other way…it was a joke. Lighten up).
I got the invitation from my parents the week before. It had been forwarded to their address since it had my maiden name on the postcard and they brought it to me at church. I’d been looking forward to it all week and (confession) bought a new pair of white capris to wear for the event. The class page on a social networking site was listed on the invite. I went to it and checked out some of the people’s profiles and found that many people were doing cool things and many people were living from one bottle to the next. I think that’s pretty much what you find on those sites, total desperation or near perfection, not because those things are true, but simply because the less intelligent people think partying equals awesomeness and the smarter people know to hide the stuff that’s ugly. Anyway, I poked around and found myself wanting to go to the reunion, for sure excited about the elementary school one.
When we walked up, it was a bit surreal. Here were a group of people whose stories’ beginnings feature many of the same high notes and some of the same low ones as mine. We all used to sit together, face forward and recite our times tables. There was the kid I convinced to drink paint water. The girl with whom I made prank calls to day-cares in fourth grade. The girl whose mother made the best ice cream cone cake things. The boy who was kind of stinky. The boy who everyone had a crush on. The boy who used to use paper as a fake tooth. The girl who kept us all together. And it was so great to hear how they are all doing, so great to meet their spouses and their children, so great to hear about the good. And for a moment, the world just seemed easier again, like it did when we played on the bridge and staged sit ins on the soccer field and measured how awesome we were by how long we could hang upside down.
As we walked back toward our car, I wished again that I could go to the high school reunion later that night, but now that I think about it, I’m glad I didn’t. It was like all class reunions, I’m sure…in a bar and no doubt there was drama. I didn’t want any of that. All of that is why I thought getting out of there early was a good idea. I’m glad I did. I wouldn’t change a thing.
Review
This was going to be an album review of Miley Cyrus’s new release, but then I realized that I hate teen pop, have only heard her sing one time (thinking that the gravel in her voice must be from all those nic sticks) and would rather shove hot knives into my ear holes.
Instead, I’ll tell you about this: Money for Your Used Cell Phone
From: Flipswap.com
Cost: Free
Flipswap.com allows you to send in your old cell phone or used electronic gadget at no cost to you. In return, the service sends you money back, depending on the quality and the demand of the phone you sent.
The service often refurbishes your used gadget and sells your old cell phones to South America or other under-developed areas. What can’t be re-used Flipswap salvages for scrap and for the parts of precious metals that are inside the device that are often valuable.
The average payout from the site is $30.
Next time you are tempted to start the complaining about those dang gas prices, just take all that energy and round up your old gadgets and send them in. You’ll feel better and you can get a little moolah too.
Happy hunting.
Read MoreNot Pitchers, We Use Those to Pour
Though he may have an arm in a cast, he has not believed that to be a reason to slow down. This morning, he climbed onto the hearth, walked over near the plaid chair and jumped onto it. He’s never done anything like that before. I figured the first time he’d jump would be one of those little funny jumps toddlers do where their toes never leave the ground. Not so much. He all but leapt onto the arm of the chair and then pulled his body over it until he was giggling and rolling around in the middle of the seat.
From there he climbed down and walked over to the pile of pillows he’d made earlier and in a split second decision, attempted to scale the mountain of pillows so that he could jump from them onto the coffee table. Not anticipating the acrobatics, I didn’t make it to him until after the side of his head collided with the coffee table. After a fair amount of crying, he climbed down and put one of his red stacking toys around his neck like a brace. At least he’s learning something from all of those trips to the doctor.
To keep him occupied and try to help him forget that we are not right this minute at the pool, we’ve been going on afternoon outings. Last week, at the zoo, he fell in love with giraffe exhibit where there were also funky cranes and squawking penguins. It was toddler nirvana.
This one was taken a few days ago, and I know that because of how white that socking is around his cast in this photo. It has a different color now, it’s more of a peanut butter meets cheese, mud and strawberries. I think you probably call that brown. I call it stinky.
He finally slept all the way through the night last night, so I think the antibiotic has turned a corner in the battle for his ears. Thank goodness. Now Mama needs a nap.
Read MoreOn Planning
I willfully and happily volunteered to plan a bridal shower for a friend whose impending wedding is now less than a month away. The shower is in two weeks and things are going fine, I guess. I’ve decided on the table decorations and have several people helping with the food. A game has been prepared and people coordinated to play said game. Invitations have been created, printed and mailed (I know! The hardest part, right? The part you thought I was going to tell you I have yet to do. The part that I rarely get right. And yet it is done. DONE! Mwahahahaha).
My mother is assisting with the shower, which is fabulous because it dials down my crazy just a notch. Although today I have been obsessing over the thing non-stop.
What is it that could make me feel so out of sorts? Let me tell you.
1. Event planning is not really my thing. Don’t get me wrong, I can do it, and I think I do it fairly well. But it is not something to which I look forward. If I am looking forward to anything it is the day after the event, when all that I have to do is think back to how things went. The stress of getting to that day, is sickening.
2. The twisted desire to make sure that everything is p-e-r-f-e-c-t while keeping my cool and appearing not to care if that ribbon is twisted or the punch is delicious or the guest of honor is having a good time or the other guests are enjoying themselves turns me into a complete loon. On the outside I’m all “Who cares?!” and on the inside I am all “I DO! GET OUT OF MY WAY!”. I’m sure you can see how that would turn anyone into a complete whackadoodle (yeah! I saw Project Runway last week. So glad my mom recorded it for me…the old school way, no doubt…on VHS).
3. Attendance. Who will come? Why will those other people not come? They should come. Just come. I promise good food, a game in which you will not have to participate (save the six people with whom I’ve already made contact), simple but elegant decorations and a fairly quick but very painless gift opening. Okay? So, come. And when the people call you to remind you of the event that will be a very good indication that we would like you to be there. So come.
4. I’m sure I’m forgetting something. Oh, right. The idea that I might forget something. Something big. Something important. Something that cannot be bluffed through or laughed away. Something like…..
Read MoreAdding Insult
Thursday night the baby woke up choking and coughing and demanding that we make him a hot toddy. Hot libation aside, we catered to him and the labored breathing all night, mostly by me holding him while he walloped me in the head with his cast. By 7:30, when he woke up after sleeping for a solid hour without waking up, we were both exhausted.
Jud went off to work. Gideon refused to eat anything and I waited for the phones to roll over at the pediatrician’s office. We scored an 11:30 appointment and both laid down to take naps. Poppy came over to lend a hand and then the three of us took off for Colorado Springs, which is where the doctor’s office is. A half hour later, when we finally got there (am I complaining about how far away something is in this city? Sheesh. It’s like I never even lived in Dallas), Gideon’s temperature was 101.9, his throat was still scratchy… and his ears? You guessed it. Both infected. Both red. Both angry.
We were sent home with prescriptions, including one for drops that have a numbing agent, and instructions to come back when he is better to speak with our regular pediatrician. She was off yesterday, but I know what she will say when we return. I want her to say it. I am READY.
It’s tube time.
Read More