I grew up a city girl, born and bred, a situation I was certain would never change. Not necessarily the city part – I wasn’t wed to living near high-rise buildings – but deep down I knew where my loyalties lie. I loved movie theaters, sports, school clubs, plays, and being able to pick up a cheeseburger without driving thirty minutes.
I felt pretty confident about where life would lead me.
Then, of course, I met BrightSide and things went all willy nilly. Not so much the first two years of our marriage; we spent those living in St. Louis, the city-est city we’ve lived in, but from that point forward we’ve grown increasingly rural-ly. First was the move to a smaller town (though, frankly, anything would have been “smaller” compared to St. Louis) but then came the real whammy.
THEN we moved to the country. The real country. The one where people have wells and septic tanks. The one where the seasonal smell of manure wafting in from the nearest pasture is par for the course.
The. Country. Y’all.
My word, when I think about what passed for safety concerns in the ’70s and ’80s it’s almost laughable. There was “stranger danger” and our family had a safe word, kind of like a password for someone picking us up. And I remember the year we started having to check all our Halloween candy back at the house before eating any – talk about a futile exercise in self-control.
We had Stop, Drop, and Roll…and not eating undercooked meat…and milk expiration dates that were sacrosanct. Safety in the ’70s and ’80s hit the broad strokes. Apparently there was rape and molestation, but nobody talked about it back then.
Nowadays you practically have to make safety issues a full time job.
snuggle up with Phoebe
sleep in late
paint my toenails
read a good book
Mountain Dew is slowly eating our insides.
The dogs’ paws come in soaking wet right now.
Damp fresh grass smells delightful.
I’m not entirely sure where dew really comes from.
the power bill
quarterly treatments for bugs
Linda’s stream of consciousness prompt makes for fun Friday scribbling. This week’s prompt is do/dew/due.
Hot off the presses! We got big and little news in equal doses.
Middle school is off to a good start this year. T-man likes his teachers (yay!), Bear feels good about her classes, and they don’t seem to be ready to kill each other in the pickup line. All those thoughts about how T-man would react to Bear encroaching on his territory turned out to be nothing more than a waste of time.
Well, as of September 22, anyway.
So it turns out you have to pay to go to middle and high school sporting events. Whaaaat? (Yeah, I know a bunch of you are wondering what planet I’ve been living on. I have no answer for that.) Which means our family is now a proud member of the Booster Club (Rah!) with all the rights and privileges accorded. Except concessions are extra. Boo.
I’d thought we’d snuck slowly into fall but here we are, smack dang dab back in 85 to 90 degree days and the car rider line is HOT. Sweat beading on your forehead, pooling in your lower back…suddenly that luxury car you love so much is a traveling sauna and let’s just say the pits are r-i-p-e.
And that is way more information than you needed.
There’s a very finite amount of pleasant weather here – when we shift out of hot but before we reach cold weather that keeps me bundled up indoors. I’m looking forward to enjoying those 8 days in October.
Latest food tallies for the kids: Bear still adores the delicious turkey burgers; T-man has gone all iffy on me. T-man loves toast with his eggs; Bear, who adores every sort of bread on the planet, won’t touch toast with a ten foot pole.
And I still hate coffee cold.
Linda’s stream of consciousness prompt is weekly Saturday fun. This week’s prompt is “hot/cold.”
It’s pretty cool seeing your kids grow into their individuality. I’ve always been a big proponent of Be Who You Are, so I find it ironic that sometimes I’m still taken aback by differences in our kids. Like I temporarily forgot the whole “kids are individuals” concept.
T-man and Bear show this most markedly right now in their involvement with school events. T-man has shown zero interest in school sports, clubs, or extracurricular activities like games or dances. Sometimes I wonder if he dislikes school so much that the thought of spending additional time there voluntarily borders on inconceivable.
Boy, nothing pisses me off more than ulterior motives.
Yeah, I know, most of us have them most of the time, but still…is it too much to ask for a little transparency? I think a good dose of refreshing honesty would do us all a ton of good.
Aren’t you excited about the kids’ field trip on Friday? Well, no, not really. The zoo’s a stretch on the best of days – add in 85 degree weather and four kindergarten classes and we’re talking points off purgatory.
Thank you for volunteering to organize the school’s bake sale! Yeah. Sure. Begging parents to donate baked goods isn’t really my thing, and I’m seriously hampered in the volunteer gathering area since I can’t use blackmail. But since our school has, like, zero funding…
Would you be willing to serve on the PTO/church committee/neighborhood watch/class party committee? Uh…wow…I’m honored you’d ask. Really. I’d be happy to. Oh! And would you like to buy $50 worth of fundraiser items from my kid? Since we’re talking and all.
I’m a middle child (thus the Riddle from the Middle blog name) who grew up experiencing both the joys and sorrows of following a sister and leading a brother. Apparently we even have a national “day” now – August 12th has been designated National Middle Child Day, an occasion for celebrating the child without a role.
Well, until they decide someone else needs it more.
When I was a girl I loved hopscotch, the Brownies, and my cat. I played soccer like a champ and ran like the wind and felt soaring pride when I beat boys on the field. I had a bike with a banana seat and curved handlebars, and my pack of elementary girlfriends all watched Wonder Woman.
When I was a teen I rolled through a variety of stages, some of which probably aged my parents exponentially. I cringe to think of that skintight black miniskirt I sported for a while, a phase my folks managed to ignore. I worked lots of jobs but never saved my money, though I couldn’t tell you now what on earth I bought with it. I had great friends who stood by me in good times and bad, and I managed to graduate high school with excellent grades and no misdemeanors.