so it's wingman's snack day at school this afternoon...
you cannot imagine how much excitement this produces...he's been looking forward to it all month...
he chose teddy grahams, big red grapes, chocolate milk...
he gets to pour the milk and enlist two friends to help him pass it all out...
and yes, this is a very political process...who you choose really matters a LOT...and if you promise to choose someone in return for something and then don't, well it's bad news...and if you yourself get passed over?...it's just a heartbreaking process any way you slice it...
kinda like the mob...or high school...
anyhow, wingman gets picked a LOT...so that's good...makes him feel important...the duke said to him yesterday
"everyone picks you to help pass out snack, huh?"
"yeah...well, everyone except ellie"
ellie?...who's this ellie?...and what the hell's ellie's problem?
so i say
"is ellie a nice girl?...do you like her?"
and i didn't mean *like* like...i just meant, like as in they are friendly with one another...
but man you should have seen the look on wingman's face...he couldn't even speak!
apparently he *like* likes her...even though she *never* picks him to help pass out her snack...
sounds about right.
i'm too old for this.
i'm working on halloween costumes for the next few days...the duke is going as a civil war union army general, wingman is going as a harry potter quidditch player...i have the quidditch robe that i made a few years okay and i need only to tweak it...
i got a navy blue blazer and a black hat for the duke...if i turn up the collar and add some gold trim and some buttons here and there, plus the sash, i've got a costume...
i'm still waiting for the year someone decides to go as a ghost, but i'm not holding my breath...
though, this year's costume making doesn't seem like a lot of work...in fact i feel as though i'm getting off easy...
as you can understand, this makes me very nervous...
x.
dinner tonight is being replaced by something i like to call defending your life (i love albert brooks...don't you love albert brooks?...don't feel bad, i meet so few people who do...that should tell you something right there)...little vignettes of my life growing up to properly illustrate the origins of my silly mortal ness....
defending your life
grandma billie
i visited the bag lady in paris' mother, grandma billie, for six weeks one summer...the summer before seventh grade i believe...anyhow, at that time grandma billie was still a cocktail waitress on sunset in l.a...she drove a big powder blue cadillac with white leather seats...her husband drove a burgundy cadillac with dark brown leather seats...
it was in the burgundy cadillac that my older sister and i were quite often whisked to the place where my grandmother worked and allowed to sit at the bar knocking back shirley temples...as many as we wanted...
(we *could* stop this particular story right there and keep some therapist in car payments...but, just for giggles, let's proceed)
we went out to dinner every single night...every night somewhere different...we had to dress for dinner, skirts and stockings...the works...she always had a half carafe of the house chablis and a side of ice (house chablis?...i learned much later, the HARD way, what a headache in a bottle that was)...and yes, she poured the wine in the glass with the ice...
and she drank a beer every single morning upon rising...in fact about the second or third morning was when i noticed her going to the refrigerator, pulling out a can of beer, and slipping something over it...
"grandma, what's that?"
"oh honey, these cans are so cold in the morning i made this beer cozy to slip over them so grandma's hands don't freeze"
"oh...well, it's nice"
was i slow child?...or just socially inept?...nice?...okay forget that it was BROWN STRETCHY TERRYCLOTH!...because no matter how you slice it, that's just messed up...but stretched over a morning can of beer?...
nice.
and if there's anything more to say about that i just don't know what it is...
except i must now disclose that when i myself served alcohol for a time i'd be up late and when i'd finally get up in the late late morning i would have a glass of chardonnay with my breakfast...
the apple really doesn't stumble far from the tree, does it?
No comments:
Post a Comment