No pictures or links today...it's a quick post before we go on four days of vacation, and I'm sure I'll come back and bore the ether with vacay stories when we're done. Just want to say, for those of you who've been visiting (so far just Stephanie and Roxie commenting, but I think a few more people have been haunting the blog...) that when school starts, I'll be down to one post a week... and I'll have to lock myself in the bathroom to write that...but that I WILL continue to blog... I'm having too much fun not to!
Anyway, my topic of the day (and I'll visit this one a lot...)is the freerange Western adolescent and why some people might think they need to be either jailed or shot.
My husband and older daughter had a ten minute conversation about how to water the lawn today that went something like this:
Dad: "Is the lawn getting watered?"
Daughter: "Yes, but I set it up so the water goes on most of the lawn and about three feet of concrete, which is really not bad considering the ratio of lawn to concrete, and if I'd set it up differently not as much of the lawn would get watered and we've got two really bad brown spots that I'm trying to get but I don't think I can get them if I wasn't watering the sidewalk and I would have set it up the other way but I didn't want to hit the garage window, because when I did that it really freaked out the outside cats but I guess it's a hundred and ten out there so they can afford a little freaking out don't you think?"
Dad: "Was that a yes?"
Daughter: "Well, yeah, but did you want me to do the backyard too? Is it bad that I'm watering concrete in a hundred and ten degree heat will it make it crack or something and do the bushes need water too? Will the cats get sick if they get hit by the water..."
Dad: "Can you move it off the concrete?"
Daugther: "Not if you don't want me to water the WHOLE lawn because I have to set it out diagonally and that doesn't work very well, somethings going to get watered that shouldn't..."
Dad (muttering to himself and going outside to see a sprinkler settled half-assed in a brown yard dripping water down the driveway) "Shot. They should definitely be shot."
I've been saying it for years--when they hit the double digits, their hormones explode, causing their brains to swell and pushing their common sense (in the case of girls) out their ears, which explains the need for seven different kinds of perfumed facial concoctions on the damned counter and (in the case of boys) out the soles of their feet, which explains A. Why they can't seem to do any sort of work at all without enough bitching to disgust the female dog and B. That hellific stench.
I'm about to lock myself in a Dodge Caravan with two middle schoolers, a toddler, an infant, and a spouse who just had a very delicate medical procedure for a five to six hour trip. May Goddess have mercy on us all.
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2 comments:
I will sacrifice two Lindor Balls to the Goddess for you. Greater love hath no woman! May your journey be remarkable for the lack of stress and sass-mouth.
When I rode the bus a lot, I thought the Fish and Game Department ought to get together with the Department of TRansportation and issues "Punk Permits." You would need to have a state permit to carry a firearm as well. Then, if you encountered a really obnoxious punk while riding the bus, and you could get three other people to sign off on your "Punk Permit," you could shoot the punk. The permit would cost two thousand dollars, and the bag limit would be one every three years. Bet there would be mobs of people lining up for their permits.
You mean they grow into obnoxious teenagers?? Note to self: call agency, call whole thing off.
Have a great trip!!
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