Hey, so busy week. I'm glad I have that monthly calendar thing hanging off the fridge now because wow, I'd never have remembered half the stuff I was supposed to be doing. Well, I'm old. (Or, as Johanna would say, "middle aged.") Let's review, shall we?
1. Book Fair
2. I forget the rest
3. Just kidding
4. Johanna's school open house
5. Johanna's school picture day
6. Meet with friends at the coffee shop
7. I turned in an application to "adopt a grandparent" at the care center
8. Eric went scouting because hunting season starts next weekend
9. Abby and I took a few walks
I'm leaving it at nine because 10 just messes up the alignment. True story. But I could add that The Office and Parks and Rec are back on TV, I missed the farmers' market because apparently school open houses can only be scheduled on market days (Abby's is next week... on market day. I rest my case), we went to Mass and found out First Communion classes start this Wednesday (let the scrambling begin), I scorched a batch of tomato sauce and I'm still bummed about that, I've been reading and have come to the conclusion I need to find something that's more upbeat/not a dystopian comment on why humans suck, and I've been writing/editing a lot at the office. Plus Johanna will not quit saying my name and for some reason Abby likes to lean into me and dig a finger in my hair in such a way as is reminiscent--or what I would imagine to be--a wiggly worm.
Whatever, I guess.
The Book Fair has been an interesting ordeal. I'd signed up for the K-3 lunch period, and since the thing is being held in the cafeteria, we're talking loud and noisy, except I also get to see my baby, so that's sort of awesome. Trying to explain why we are not buying every book on her list has been a little less awesome. She was able to pick out a couple of books for free because I'd volunteered four days (I'm not sure how that helps the PTO, but whatevs, nice perk). I think that's good enough. Johanna wants to clean out her bookshelf and then "replace" old books with new books. I'm trying to ease us into a more minimalist lifestyle. See the problem yet? And apparently saying no five thousand times isn't enough to dissuade her from trying 5,001.
Every time I stand up or walk around while I'm at the school, I get the same reaction from the children. They look up at me, look down at my feet (to see if I'm hovering, I guess), then back up to me with their mouths open. To be fair, 6' looks huge when you're not even 3 1/2'. But I hear a lot of she's BIG whispers as I walk past, which doesn't do much for my self esteem, so it's a good thing I'm already so full of myself. There are usually a few brave kids who will say it to my face. I like those kids.
I'm sure what everyone really wants to know is this: Did Johanna match for picture day? You know, she actually did. Well, it helps that the pictures are only chest up. She wore one of her favorite t-shirts and a pair of capris and probably flip flops or something, I can't remember, but I had her hair brushed and everything, so it shouldn't be too bad.
"You know there are going to be a lot of little girls running around in dresses today," I warned her as she pulled her t-shirt on.
"I hate dresses. I don't even have a dress!"
That's not entirely true. She has a couple that were Abby's "just in case." You know, for like Christmas. NOT for picture day.
And anyway, there are only so many fights I'm going to have in a day. You have to brush your teeth. You have to wear clothes. Everything else is up for grabs. Who cares if she's in a t-shirt? That's who she is.
Now I just have to remember to send them out when they arrive. I found my stash of her first grade pictures the other day, still uncut. Oops.
You know what else I need? A witty closing paragraph generator. Seriously, someone get on that.
Travis, Why Does It Always Rain On Me? Live because that's more interesting. We still have blue sky, it's just cooler. Hey, though, we're all looking forward to the rain because maybe then the air will clear of all the smoke from the forest fires raging around the state.