Saturday, March 17, 2007

The Weekly Wonderings #1

I carry a notebook with me to write down thoughts and events which strike my fancy and could prove to be fodder for the future. Not that long ago, I started carrying a tape recorder also because, well, sometimes I’m driving and can’t really write something down immediately. Since college drained me of so many vital brain cells and advancing years are siphoning off more, I need that recorder or else I will fail to note it. No matter its relevance. No matter its importance. No matter.

But not all of my random thoughts merit a post. [Now, tell the truth, you have to bite your tongue to not say, “That’s a shock, given your many amateur posts.” I hope you drew blood!] So I thought I’d do a weekly round-up of these thoughts, pithy comments, etc. And at first I was going to call it “The Weekly Wanderings,” meaning my wandering through the week. But I kind of like the “o” instead. Here’s the first installment on Saturday, March 17.

1. Some play dates are made for alcohol.

2. While I’m yelling scolding Luke and his play mate to clean up after themselves before moving onto the next activity, I say, “This is not my life, cleaning up after you.” What does darling Luke say, “Yeah, it is Mom. It is your life to clean up.” Sigh. He’s right. Bastard.

3. Listening to the radio as we’re going Lord-knows-where, we hear Fifi’s “Mirror in the Bathroom.” Luke says to keep that song on, so we do. Thankfully, he doesn’t hear “Mirror in the bathroom, cracked out bitch.” Instead he says, “Hey, Mom, that song's about “Cars.” It says, ‘Mater in the bathroom.’”

4. SUV-driver that I am, I might as well go whole hog, environment and lesser creatures be damned, and drive through McDonald’s for two Happy Meals for Luke and me. It turns out a lady who works at 7-11 is at the take-out window of McDonald’s. We chit-chat. I ask her if she’s no longer working at 7-11. She is. She just has to work two jobs. (Lay it at my feet. It’s my fault she has to work two low-paying jobs because my elected officials won’t support a decent minimum wage.) As we’re leaving, Luke says, “Who’s that girl?” I tell her she’s the one from 7-11. “Is she gone from there?” he asks. I say, “No, she works at both places.” And he says in his truly-amazed voice, “Awe-some!”

5. Optimum place for the motorcycle cop and the ice cream truck? The high school at lunch time. Busted. Or fattened-up.

6. Again, driving somewhere, it’s Luke and me listening to the radio. Stevie Wonder comes on with “You are the Sunshine of My Life.” I say to Luke, “That singer is called Stevie Wonder. He’s blind. That means he can’t see.” To which he says, “If he can’t see, how can he drive to his band?” I tell him that he doesn’t drive, that someone else drives him, to which Luke says, “I bet the drummer drives.”

7. If the Jeep contains a full TJ’s bag, a gallon of milk, Ryan’s backpack, Sam’s backpack, my bag, a pan, me, Ryan and Luke, Ryan will grab his backpack and wait at the door. Luke will run to the mailbox and drop mail on the way up the driveway. I will juggle items in order to also grab the mail and the newspaper from Luke. Only then will Ryan feign surprise that I am struggling and make a tentative move to carry something else. And as I bitterly snipe at him for being inconsiderate, I will realize I am the enabler of such behavior.

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