Records Shot with Dots

Do you remember seeing that dead, bloated armadillo floating down deep inside that concrete well? The one you could only see at a certain time of day when the sun would hit it just right?

Do you remember walking to the store to buy Reese's Cups and Pepsi's, then walking back home and plopping down on some blankets in the floor in front of the TV just as Small Wonder was coming on, and saying - without irony - to your little brother, "We got it made, don't we?"

Do you remember getting that Nintendo Entertainment System way after everyone else got one, but not caring and playing the hell out of it over Christmas break?

Do you remember the day your mother told you, "Wow..... your shirt actually matches your pants today."

Do you remember stealing those rolling papers without even knowing what they were used for?

Do you remember your dad coming to school to pick you up out of the blue one day, and you saw him walking down the sidewalk in his "1,000 lb. Club" T-shirt, and you had never been more thrilled in your life?

Do you remember your cousin Kelly demanding that you say "excuse me" each and every time you stepped on someone's grave that day the two of you walked down to the cemetery?

Do you remember that glass swordfish statue your mom kept in the bathroom of the house that burned down?

(I'll post pictures sometime early next week. I semi-promise.)

I'll preface this by saying there's a dog in the neighborhood we don't like.

(Swiftly yanking the front door open one early morning last week.)

My husband: "You better get your ass outta here, dog!"

(Birds nesting in the covered porch start to flap their wings and tweet excitedly.)

My husband: "You too, birds!"

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So what's up, Internet? I'm having a busy time of it lately with work. And I've been marathon-reading books again for the first time in a while. This explains the lack of posts lately. It also explains my failure to be doing much of anything that requires creativity at all. But it doesn't quite explain this. Perhaps nothing can.

My daily routine has been altered by the fact that I no longer drive Heather to school and pick her up afterward. Since she got her license last month, I am only required to get my ass out of bed and drive straight to and from work. We're still working out the kinks of our new schedules though. Now that we both get up around the same time and she doesn't have basketball practice first thing in the morning, we are both in need of simultaneous bathroom usage. Before the basketball season ended, Heather only needed to brush her teeth, and she was ready to go to school. But now, like me, she needs more prep time. Our tiny bathroom barely accommodates one person, let alone two females with hair and hygeine to maintain. I'm gonna have to start getting up earlier because I really see no other way around it.

I went to Chuck E. Cheese for the first time in probably 20 years last weekend as part of Sevin's weekend-long birthday celebration. Oh my God. Those Chuck E. Cheese people are bastard geniuses. "Hey, I know! Let's awkwardly arrange a bunch of crappy, brightly-colored electronic games in a cramped little building and make parents buy a bunch of tokens that in the end will only afford their children cheap little prizes. And then, we'll fill the place with screaming, snot-nosed rugrats and serve them greasy pizza." Actually, the pizza was fairly decent compared to some other kid-joint pizza places I've been. But man! The utter boldness with which that place flashes its cheap cheesiness into the sparkling, easy-to-catch eye of a five-year-old..... Again, they are geniuses.

Sevin had a wonderful time and got lots of fun presents which is what it's all about in the end. Since he's five now, those Chuck E. Cheese people better enjoy their few final years (hopefully) of wowing his malleable little sensibilities.

I need a hair-cut. Split endz removal, mostly. And I'm thinking about getting my blonde highlights redone. For a while I entertained going back dark brown, but I think that was more of a "doldrums of January" type of idea.

I need anyone reading this to do a rain dance in my honor. I don't know how much longer our well water will last without some form of saturating precipitation. It's already starting to sputter when we turn on the faucets, and we can't do any more take-a-shower transition into washing-a-load-of-whites combinations. We have become conservationists by force.

What's this? I'm writing about my hairdo and the weather? I think that means I've said enough. I hope you have a hot rod of a day, Internet.