You Want Some Ketchup With Those Worms?

10:36 p.m.
Startled awake by a passing big rig.

11:41 p.m.
Awakened by Eldest's phone call describing his nighttime adventures at Disneyland.

1:10 a.m.
Shot awake because the door next door slammed. Twice.

2:38 a.m.
Awakened by God-knows-what.

5:40 a.m.
Pulled from the sleep of the dead by a 7-year-old boy opening a drawer in the bureau next to my head to get his clothes to start the day.

How's the mini-vacation with the two younger kids going? At least I slept before we left home.

The Plan: Sunday Scribblings

Okay, I have got to include the prompt directions this week:

"One of the most iconic lines from television history has to be from the A-team when Hannibal says, 'I love it when a plan comes together!' Have you ever been able to say that? Do you have a Plan? Do you need a Plan? Have you had a plan fall spectacularly to pieces? This prompt isn't just small 'p' plan. This prompt takes it up a notch with a capital P. This prompt is: The Plan. What's yours?"

Seriously, Hannibal of the A-team? Where the hell was I when his line was becoming one of the most iconic in television history? A quick look at IMDB explains exactly where I was: not following any Plan with a capital P.

I was a newly freed college grad whose only Plan was to get the hell out of northern Virgina, where I had returned after graduating to take up a (brief) residence with my mother and her second husband. There wasn't a formal time limit on my stay. I lasted four weeks.

My Plan was to head out to northern California, help my father pack up his house for his move to Florida and then head down to San Diego where my younger brother was currently enrolled in school. My Plan was to find a job in San Diego and... Yeah, that was it. That was the extent of my Plan.

What happened instead was I met a guy on a bus at the Greyhound terminal in Chicago. He was going to the San Diego area for the summer before returning to Boston to finish up his last year of college. Good thing my Plan was so open as I would end up in Boston before the end of October.

I'm much older. I should have at least one Plan, with a capital P, right? I don't know about that. Seems like there's a greater chance of disappointment or failure if you put too much into Planning.

The Weekly Wonderings #116

1. Why Labradoodles? Did we really need to supersize poodles?

2. All rat dog lovers, please send hate mail to wheeallthewayhome AT gmail DOT com.

3. "Daughter sucks eggs," Youngest shouts at his sister in the pool.

4. Released from his time-out to go back in the pool, he is admonished to not say those words to her again. "Okay. I'll sing them."

5. Damn. Damn. Damn. I need this snarky smart-ass like I need a butt-scratching monkey in the kitchen.

6. The exchange related above occurred all of three hours after Daughter returned from her week's stay at sleepaway camp. For a boy who purportedly missed his sister dreadfully, that's a hell of a welcome home.

7. Daughter had a fab time, of course, and she cried when she had to leave her counselors, Kate and Bean, and, oh, Mike, too. And look, wah-wah-wah over her new friends Hannah and Jaycie. Oh, Lindsie, too.

8. You can call it the Great Flood of '09.

9. Unless that title has already been used for some calamity or other.

10. And if you were a part of said calamity, um, sorry for the attempted takeover of the name. And for any damage you and yours may have suffered. Of course.

Just a Tad Late to the Party

I saw this notice on my local Freecycle this morning:

Wanted: Obama HOPE sticker, small

I'm looking for the Obama HOPE sticker that is about 3 inches by 2 inches... ~ish. If anyone has one PLEASE let me know. I can pick up anywhere.
AM

I know we all can't be early adopters. Not everyone ends up in the early majority category, either, particularly with such an arduous primary season. How about the late majority then?

What, exactly, is the opposite of an early adopter? A laggard, right? So this "AM" person is a laggard trying to pass as an early adopter.

I hope she's offered a used sticker.

All I Got Was a Rock

I'm Charlie Brown. I'm Eeyore. I'm name-any-morose-sidekick-of-lore. Wait a minute, though, even Charlie Brown got to go to camp.

Alas, I did not. I missed out on leaving my family behind for an entire week (!!!) to go spend it in the wilderness, making tie-dye bandannas or pillow cases, creating Popsicle stick works of art, jumping in a swimming hole, telling ghost stories around the campfire, canoeing, horseback riding, and crushing on a boy or a boy counselor (!!!).

I did go to a day camp the summer I was 9. My family had just moved on base and I had switched schools -- yet again -- and knew absolutely nobody in the neighborhood or the camp. I was freakin' miserable, and was sick to my stomach every single morning for the excruciatingly long eight weeks of camp. I can't imagine I would have fared any better at a sleepaway camp.

Actually, I would have likely been horribly miserable getting there but would have been fine the whole time ensconced away at camp. That's what it was like at the day camp: I hated going but was fine once I was there.

Daughter is away at camp. We have had no contact with her for several days. Oh, sure, we sent post cards and I'm sure we'll receive a post card. Probably after she gets back. She went with her BFF and she was so excited.

She burst into tears the night before she went, moaning that she'd miss us. Knowing Daughter like I do, I'm sure it was just on her checklist of things to do before she left. "Make sure extra food is out for Moonshine [the fish]." "Ask Eldest to PLEASE play with Youngest while I'm gone." "Cry so Mom and Dad think I'll miss them."

Independent kids. Camp. A recipe for disaster success.

Wordy Wednesday #68: Biker Boy

Girls always fall for those bad-ass bikers, eh? Particularly when they wear such awesome helmets, decorated last year for some Crazy Helmet Day at school. At least we can never miss him in a crowd.

So how's that bike riding going, you wonder? Well, he keeps repeating the mantra, "Balance and Steer. Balance and Steer. Balance and Steer." He has those down pretty good. In fact, he's a great bike rider. He's just not such a good bike braker. I posted his last ride of the day, down at the school Sunday, on YouTube. Don't worry, no knees were skinned in the filming of this clip.

[Edited to add: Uh, yeah, about those pictures? They were there before. I've reloaded them on Thursday, but I'm so not re-titling this post.]

Thinking: Haiku

One Single Impression puts out "thinking" this week, courtesy of Jim. I'm sure many have grander thoughts than me. How hard would that be?

As for me, I'm offering up two this week. The first speaks to those worries I'm prone to have: far-fetched and long-reaching ones about the kids. I really do need to accept Que Sera, Sera as my official personal motto. [Fat chance, that.]

The second is far lighter. The searing heat, the overly long days and the weight of summer air bring to mind past summers. Distant summers, really. Dangerous, they were, but oh what fun.

Striving to quiet

racing thoughts and fears and pain.

Hopes run unchallenged.

Long days of fire

conjure up the past within.

Youth is best misspent.

Now, go think good thoughts.