Book character day

In lieu of Halloween costumes, my son's school has Book Character Day today. So the kids still get to dress up in a costume, but they're required to find their inspiration in a book so maybe they get a little more creative than Batman and Spiderman (but check back here after Halloween for those staple costumes).

So Mickey chose Mike Mulligan of Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel.** What an awesome story this is...Mike Mulligan has confidence that his Steam Shovel (who he gave the woman's name of Mary Ann) can live up to his lofty expectations, even though he wasn't sure until she was put to the test. I love that: a man laying staking his entire reputation on the confidence he has in a woman...er...Steam Shovel.

But that message is lost to Mickey, of course. I think he just likes how much of the book revolves around digging in dirt.

As for the costume, my friend Julie came through with the hard hat, thankfully. Pete just called from school, however, and said Mickey thought the hat was too uncomfortable to wear. Oh, well...

I got a couple of pictures, though, before he realized that.



**Thanks to my sis Judy. She passed along to me a shopping bag full of books one day and made it a point to recommend MM.

Note to self

Don't leave blogging interface open.

Without locking my office door.

Or my boy in the closet.

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Wait, we have movement

Who knows why I'm compelled to post a video here tonight. More of "talking to myself" I suppose.

And this one has way too much information in it when you consider I haven't even posted my boys' real names. Just disregard that stuff. And realize I did not prompt him to repeat it, either.

Try to also disregard the lack of pitch, rhythm, and tune.

And pay attention to the cute.

Just make sure your good wine glass isn't too close to your speakers.

Is it still shopping if you don't buy anything?

Shopping alone is rare for me. I usually have at least one of the boys or...the horror...the whole family waiting impatiently for me in the car or on the other side of JCPenney.

So when I do go by myself...ah, the bliss. I can browse and compare prices and visualize to my heart's content. Except I don't do that because I can't relax because I'm flipping open my cellphone every ten minutes to see what time it is so I don't forget to pick someone up (you'd think I had ten kids or something. Truly it's a miracle I wasn't left somewhere to be raised by truck drivers when I was a kid.).

All that mess to say: I try to have a definite plan when I shop. A carefully crafted mission considering the needed item and the amount of time I have to find it.

I had that all that today...mission miserably failed.

All I wanted in the world was a plain red long-sleeved T-shirt for Mickey to wear as part of his costume. But those are not to be had anywhere, since boys' clothing makers tend to puke graphic designs of monster trucks and boxy superheros on the fronts of all shirts.

So looks like Mickey gets to wear one of Alex's red shirts, which will probably still fit him anyway.

The other part of his costume I needed was a hard hat. Like a construction hard hat. Little boys like to wear hard hats, don't they? Well, apparently not enough for Giant Halloween Store to stock them. But fake rubber b r e a s t s must certainly be in demand, since a couple of versions of those were available. And big axes shoved into rubber masks...thank goodness no one will have to go without those this Halloween. (Note to self: wait ten years to take boys to Halloween store.)

It's a very real possibility I'll have to buy an entire Bob the Builder costume in order to get the stinkin' hat. And I'll have to go to Walmart for it. Ugh.

And I'll probably be dragging people with me when I go.

I may be the one who needs the hard hat...

I wanna talk to me again

It's amazing how a subject can occupy so much of your thoughts and yet your actions toward it are non-existent.

Like blogging.

And working out.

And unpacking those last two boxes from our move three months ago.

But we all know which of these concerns me at this moment.

And unfortunately it has nothing to do with a treadmill.

Yeah, lately I've thought about blogging at least ten times every day, but for some reason the urge isn't quite enough to actually do it. I think I'm in that funk again where I'm analyzing it way too much...as I told a friend the other day: every word I type out here I imagine some one person I know reading it. But it's difficult to consider your audience as individuals when you blog; there are too many people who read me from different areas of my life, and trying to write directly to every individual is a fruitless concept, to say the least.

So I suppose I should just get back to the basics, and start writing for myself again. I'll be breaking a number one rule of any type of writing, and that is to consider your audience.

And ya'll will just have to listen in while I talk to myself.

Surprises

My boy has blond hair. Is that "blond" or "blonde"? I'm really not sure. But I really forget that it's blond(e) until I see pictures like this one from a year ago.


It's not that long anymore, for sure.

Blond(e)? Still. But getting darker.

Maybe I take a lot of pictures of him because I'm afraid I'll look up one day and it'll be chocolate-y. And because his blonde-ness still confuses me. Although he has a smattering of blond-y cousins...equally confusing. But it makes the whole clan look a little more interesting during get togethers.

His blue eyes...they're still confounding me, too.

A lot about this boy confounds me, come to think of it.

He's just looking the part.

Parlez-vous soccer?

Mickey had his first soccer game last weekend. Yes, it's Thursday and I'm just getting around to alerting you of this news. I hope you made it through the week okay.

Nonetheless, it is new territory for me: Mickey's playing an organized team sport and I know absolutely nothing about it. Basketball, baseball, even football, I believe I could come up with one or two valuable pearls for him to take with him on the field.

Soccer?

Soccer is like a foreign language to me.

I know there's a ball. And the players chase it and try to score. Like basketball. And football. And they chase a ball in baseball, too, come to think of it.

Maybe it's not that foreign after all.

All I know is just before his first game, I struggled to come up with any pregame advice for him, since I had no idea what he's actually supposed to do. So I just said "...run fast. And listen to your coach."

Hafta' keep that one in my hip pocket for future foreign sports.

Patience x 10 = Coach Chad

...or, could be he's sneaking in a keyboarding lesson.

Whatever he told them, it was riveting to most players.

Somebody had different ideas...

Oh, pleeeease let the ball come my way.

Yeah, baby!

Not in my house!

Goalie gloves and jersey: ready!

That's what I said...

It's all in how you make up words

So today was a particularly long day for the Home Team with a lot of activities, and I began it at 5:30. A. M.

It's SATURDAY.

Anyway, by the end of the day I was just a smidge on the edgy side and not in the mood to cook so I brought home Chinese food for the family (okay, for Pete and I. The boys just stared at it.)

At the end of the meal, I asked Pete to read my fortune cookie since he'd opened it for me. Not because he was being extra sweet, but because I said "give me half of that." My fortune, as read by Pete:

"The love of your life will get you through any circumstance."

I had to laugh at that, loudly, given my current mood.

Then Pete informed me he'd read it wrong; it actually said:

"Your love of life will get you through..."

Hmm, I think I'll bank on the first version.