Ok, it’s Friday then…

Let’s see, Mom and Dad are due in this afternoon. I need to sweep, give the bathrooms a quick swish, make sure the guest room is ready. For supper tonight, I’m going to fix something they’ve never had before but I’ve a feeling they’ll like: Baja fish tacos. Yum.

Hopefully all the busyness will keep the monsters in their cage. I’m forcing optimism.

Tomorrow we’re going to the Scottish Games. My camera batteries are fully charged, and the chip reformatted, so I ought to be able to take a million pictures. I am really looking forward to going. Getting out of the house and out somplace wonderful (the venue for the Games is truly beautiful- this 300 yr old Boys Home with huge trees and the Moon River…just gorgeous).

#3 announced that he’s a A Better Offer and won’t be going to the games with us. he did it politely, with a touch of deference “Mom I’d really like to go but the Twins invited me to the hunt club and there’s a drawing for a Remington shotgun and it’s the twins, and they invited me and, it’s the twins…)
For those of you who don’t know, #3 has a strong friendship with these twin girls, dates them off and on, sometimes one, sometimes the other, sometimes both at the same time, and their parents really like him…well, you get the picture. It’s hard to compete with an offer like that, and it means he won’t have to wear the kilt.

I think I *just* figured out part of my emotional problem- I haven’t been eating. I’ve had no appetite, which is very unusual for me, but there just isn’t anything that seems tempting. A while back (like years ago) Sweet Daddio figured out that a big piece of beef in the form of a perfectly cooked steak would mitigate an oncoming depression, and so when he sees me behaving erratically, he’d feed me a sirloin, and it helps. Maybe I should eat something.

Plus all my pants are falling off of me. I mean, not this minute, but you know what I mean. My size 20’s I’ve been wearing for the past 6 or 7 years I can pull off without unbuttoning them. I’m betting I could wear 16’s, if I got the gumption up to go to the store and try them on. That would be cool, but I’d rather be a size 20 and feel comfortable in my psychological skin, than be a 16 and feel like gnawing off my fingers. I guess that’s what happens when you quit eating.

So, I’m off to clean, and run the battery down on my ipod by listening to something too loud to hear the phone ring in case #4 falls out of the tour bus and cracks his head on the Savannah pavement (field trip today, a Historic Trolley Tour of Olde Towne Savannah..you could not pay me enough to take 60 3rd graders on such a tour. Well, maybe for a million $ I would, but no less)