Having been out of the blogging loop, I return to discover Random Tuesday new and improved. I almost feel that I have to up my random- thought-game in order to compete with the fancy redesigned button. It’s comforting to know there’s still a ham on it. At least there’s solace in pork products.
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I forgot to pick my son up from school last week. It was kind of a low point. I’d been struggling to pinpoint what day of the week it actually was since school began and on Wednesday (when the elementary lets out an hour early) I was convinced it was Tuesday and that I had time to spare as my mother-in-law blabbed at me long distance. It wasn’t until my neighbor called 20 minutes after dismissal that I actually left. “You know it’s Wednesday, right?” Her daughter is in the same class as my son and I pick them both up in the afternoon. By the time I got to the school, the pick-up area had been sealed off and I had to park the van to collect my charges from the main office. Walking in through the double doors, my son’s face was the first one I saw. He was…barely holding it together. One look from me was all it took and he dissolved in to a messy heap of tears and boogers. I felt awful. He’s the last kid I’d ever want to forget just because he is the most sensitive and most likely to carry the emotional scar around with him in to forever. He sobbed for a good half hour. I made brownies. I might be the worst mother ever. Later when I tried to talk to him about it and ask what he’d been thinking while he waited with the other 30 kids whose mothers were also a little tardy, he said he’d been afraid I would never come. Never. No litany of terrible possibilities, just the prospect of sitting there in the office, hungry and tired and having to pee for all of eternity. I suppose that is scary enough, isn’t it?
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On the flip side, I have been compassionate enough to drive my daughter to high school in the morning so she can avoid some painful moments during the a.m. bus ride. It seems the disastrous crush of her life once again has a girlfriend that isn’t my daughter, thus pulverizing her dreams and spirits in one fell swoop. I don’t actually mind because it gives me a chance to sleep in an extra half hour and I get a peaceful 10 minutes during the drive back. Me and morning radio and a feeling of great satisfaction that I don’t have a job to commute to. Seriously. There are a lot of angry people on the road in the morning.
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I have a thing for garden gnomes. I haven’t always. My husband bought me one on a whim and now I have this blind urge to populate my gardens (read mulchy weeds) with pointy red-capped gnomes. (Perhaps it’s part of their ploy to take over the world one yard at a time.) My newest addition was on clearance at the former K-mart which became a Sears Essentials which is now reverting back to its Big K status. Most items were exorbitantly marked up. Cheap towels for $30 so they could advertise them at 70% off and sell them for what they were actually worth. The lawn ornament was an actual bargain and nearly forgotten on a shelf among barbecuing utensils. It wasn’t until I got home that I noticed my gnome looking a little spooked. He’s got a book open in his lap and a benevolent bunny at his shoulder, presumably listening in as he reads a happy forest fairy tale. Upon later examination, their relationship appears a bit more sinister. The gnome looks terrified, jaw agape as he stares fixedly out in the distance. A Big Bad Forest Something is coming for him and he knows he can’t outrun it. The rabbit is clearly an evil minion with his narrowed beady eyes. What do you think?
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I think grocery store personnel should undergo some type of sensitivity training when it comes to reusable bags. The baggers at the market I frequent always seem irked when I gently push over my fabric bag full of fabric bags. They pause, exchange meaningful glances with the cashier, barely containing their eye-rolls, then proceed to fill my bags beyond capacity in an effort to possibly dissuade me from ever inconveniencing them again with my superficial green efforts. Or maybe they just haven’t been properly informed as to how to fill the bags in order to maximize balance and achieve adequate weight distribution. Or maybe they’re just bagging groceries for crappy wages and hate their jobs and resent me for buying stupid reusable bags just to screw with their routines when clearly I don’t care enough about the environment if I’m buying my kids Fruit Roll Ups and store brand OJ.
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I just might have some issues.
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