Next please!
And the back-to-school festivities continue today and I have a three-hour layover at high school central. In other words, I'm volunteering to help with the picture-taking and the schedule-handouting. Today I help herd teenagers into lines to get their picture taken. I get free pictures of at least one of my children for my services. I hope Jimmy won't be too embarrassed to have me there talking to his friends and telling them what to do.
Tomorrow I'll help hand schedules out to frightened little 9th graders who have never been to such a big school and don't know where anything is and look so small compared to the massive sequoia forest of senior boys. Paul is one of those "frightened freshmen," but he does know his way around the PE area and possibly the band room. He's been forced into the auditorium (theater) more times than he probably wanted to be, on account of Katie doing so dang much on the stage in one kind of performance or another.
Speaking of Paul, he's been away since Sunday at cross country running camp. We've been joking how it's not much of a camp since on the equipment-to-bring list, such items as TVs*, DVDs*, mp3s*, and video game consoles are some of the suggested items to bring! When I think of "Cross Country Running Camp," I think of marathon running sessions (literally!) and collapsing into bed at 6 p.m. after eating wads of spaghetti noodles. But there is really only 49 minutes of running per day. Otherwise, the schedule of activities has bowling, swimming, huge granite blocks of free time, pizza party, movie night, etc. Paul won't want to come home! But he is probably packing up his gear at the moment and getting on the bus to arrive home at noon.
Time for me to clean up. Fake child has been here since 6 a.m. and goes home in less than an hour and I want to NOT look like I have just rolled out of bed three minutes ago. At the very least, I need to change out of the pajamas.
*Do not even THINK about telling me that these words need an apostrophe before the "s." It is nails-in-the-blackboard to my eyes to see them apostrophized. An apostrophe DOES NOT mean "Look out, here comes an S!"
Tomorrow I'll help hand schedules out to frightened little 9th graders who have never been to such a big school and don't know where anything is and look so small compared to the massive sequoia forest of senior boys. Paul is one of those "frightened freshmen," but he does know his way around the PE area and possibly the band room. He's been forced into the auditorium (theater) more times than he probably wanted to be, on account of Katie doing so dang much on the stage in one kind of performance or another.
Speaking of Paul, he's been away since Sunday at cross country running camp. We've been joking how it's not much of a camp since on the equipment-to-bring list, such items as TVs*, DVDs*, mp3s*, and video game consoles are some of the suggested items to bring! When I think of "Cross Country Running Camp," I think of marathon running sessions (literally!) and collapsing into bed at 6 p.m. after eating wads of spaghetti noodles. But there is really only 49 minutes of running per day. Otherwise, the schedule of activities has bowling, swimming, huge granite blocks of free time, pizza party, movie night, etc. Paul won't want to come home! But he is probably packing up his gear at the moment and getting on the bus to arrive home at noon.
Time for me to clean up. Fake child has been here since 6 a.m. and goes home in less than an hour and I want to NOT look like I have just rolled out of bed three minutes ago. At the very least, I need to change out of the pajamas.
*Do not even THINK about telling me that these words need an apostrophe before the "s." It is nails-in-the-blackboard to my eyes to see them apostrophized. An apostrophe DOES NOT mean "Look out, here comes an S!"
Comments
I think I'll still go school supply shopping even when the kids are all on their own. I love pencils, pens, notebooks, binders, and all those paper products!
A panda walks into a café. He orders a sandwich, eats it, then draws a gun and proceeds to fire it at the other patrons.
'Why?' asks the confused, surviving waiter amidst the carnage, as the panda makes towards the exit. The panda produces a badly punctuated wildlife manual and tosses it over his shoulder.
'Well, I'm a panda', he says, at the door. 'Look it up.'
The waiter turns to the relevant entry in the manual and, sure enough, finds an explanation. 'Panda. Large black-and-white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots and leaves.'