OK

Hello, friends. I was supposed to blog and name acrowinners last night. I fell asleep.

It's about time. I haven't slept in so long I didn't even berate myself for taking a two-hour nap in the Comfy Chair. I'm also cutting myself some slack because I've taken back up my relationship with the exercise bike. Been back at it for almost a week, and was kind of surprised at myself for being able to go at it as long and as hard as I have been.

As I said earlier in the week, I was without a Picture Sunday this past week. It wasn't supposed to happen that way, but it did. It's a long story. It's not particularly pretty, either, but I'm far enough away from it that it now amuses as well as amazes me, so I thought you might like to hear it.

See, last weekend was the holiday weekend. I had Friday off. On Saturday I was to go to B'burg and Mr M's, where hopefully we'd see the B'burg Community Band, sans me, play a concert and then watch the fireworks. And then celebrate, because, of course, the Fourth of July is Sherman's birthday.

I did nothing on Friday. Absolutely sod-all. Left my house once, only to fill the car up with gas. Had cleaning plans, then thought, "Oh, that sucks, it's my day off, for God's sake," so I loafed around and had a nice day. Around 4pm my dad called and I told him I was doing absolutely nothing. He asked if I was still going to see the Community Band the next day, I said I hoped, and then he posed the "pool conundrum," which was to ask how upset I'd be if they didn't open the pool this year. It's a lot of work.

I understand this completely, and though I'll miss it, there was no way I could tell my dad to open the pool, and so I said it was absolutely fine and not to worry about it. We said our goodbyes and I went on with the day. Being lazy.

I got up Saturday, and just as I started, in a timely manner and everything, to get everything packed up for Mr M's, the phone rang. It was Dad. He said, "Are you still going to B'burg?" I told him I was. He then informed me that he needed me to take him to WalMart, as he needed some chemical for the pool and Mom needed some things as well.

OK. Now, I'm going to be starting a few paragraphs of this blog with "OK." Because several times during all this I sat or stood, looking askew into the air, and thought, "Ooooo Kaaaaay." So, here was the first OK. I spoke to my dad in the afternoon the day before and told him I had done nothing and was doing nothing that entire day. He knew I was going to B'burg Saturday. And yet he picked Saturday as I was getting ready to leave to say he needed to go to the store. I felt a bit leery about buying chemicals for the pool as well, but I don't know that much about its upkeep so I was willing to give Dad the benefit of the doubt on that one. There might be chemicals you put in when you're not opening it. What do I know?

So all of a sudden my on-time plans were not on time anymore, and I started rushing around like a chicken with no head trying to get everything ready. I was naked with wet hair, which I remedied quickly, then started trying to get a bag packed. Then I tried to remember that I needed to get my clarinet apart and in its case for duets. I tried to remember a chair for the band concert. I tried to remember to brush my teeth, and to get all the cartoon characters together and in a bag large enough to hold them so we could have Sherman's birthday. I tried to remember cameras. And my ipod. And a hat for the sun. And a couple of protein bars and a few diet green teas.

I had everything in a pile in the floor and was in the process of loading them into the car when the phone rang. It was my dad. He wanted to know if I was ever going to get there, and I told him to hold his tater on the cold end, that I was packing up the car and would be there shortly. I got everything loaded in and headed out. When I got there, he was standing on the porch waiting for me.

He got in the car and said, not in a snippy way, in a very dadly way, "If this is going to take too much time for you, I can call someone else."

OK. (So I thought, staring sideways.) If my dad knew I had plans to go somewhere for an event that started at a specific time, why didn't he ask someone to begin with? But I didn't say that, I said it's OK, I'm already here, let's go, because I had realized that in this world there are dumpers and dumpees, and I knew which I was, and we started out.

We got to a WalMart teeming with the tired, the poor, the wretched refuse of any July 4th, and parked. Dad handed me his list. It contained the pool chemicals, then things like potatoes, onions, potato chips, paper plates, eggs, coffee, paper towels, and hamburger and hot dog buns. I looked at the list and said "fine," perfectly happy - until! Until I was told that those items were on the list because my sister and her husband were coming over to the folks' house for a July 4th dinner.

OK. (So I thought, staring upwards and trying to keep my eyes dry.) If my dad knew I had plans and they were attending an event that started at a specific time, and my sister and her husband were coming over to dinner, why didn't he ask them to bring the dinner items? But I said nothing again, because as a dumpee, it doesn't really matter what you say, it's best to just stand at the ready and hope one miserable stinkin' time you can dodge a little to the right and missed getting dumped on, but of course that never happens.

So we got inside the WalMart, me huffing and puffing through my mouth like I'm giving birth, hoping this will keep me from having a cryfest, and I told Dad to get his pool stuff, and I'd do the grocery items, and we'd meet in the front. We split up. I headed right and went through the grocery aisles like a dose of salts. It was like I was on that old game show "Supermarket Sweep." I got everything in record time and went to the front, expecting bells and whistles and the grand prize, but instead I got - no Dad.

I headed back to the pool section. No Dad. I headed back to the front. No Dad. Then I went up and down every fucking aisle in the WalMart, knowing full well that this was the worst possible course of action, because all you're doing is moving around your target, but I did it anyway. I headed back over to the grocery section.

After about three aisles I saw my dad loping along, pool chemicals in one hand, and in the other - paper plates. I went over to him and said, "Dad, I got paper plates, they were on the list." He replied, "Well, you got the small size."

OK. (So I thought, putting both hands over my face in case I started to scream.) How would a man who was not with me when I got paper plates know what size I got? And he was wrong, because I got the right size.

We finally got to the checkout and I got Dad home and headed out to B'burg, an hour and fifteen minutes late, but still in time to go to the band concert.

However.

Remember that part above where I was mentioning rushing around to get ready? Well, I remembered most of those things, my clothes and horn, and to brush my teeth, and my chair and my hat.

However, in the mad rush, I forgot Peabody.

And Sherman.

Yes, I arrived at Sherman's birthday party, for which Mr M had made cupcakes and everything, without the birthday boy. When I realized this, I had a sinking feeling that I just don't think I can describe here.

And so that was my weekend. Well, most of it. The rest of it was that Sherman was none too pleased about being left behind on his birthday.

When I got home, I opened the door to the dennette, and was doused by a strategically placed bucket of water. As I went to put my stuff away and change into dry clothes, he'd placed his gardening hoe in the living room where I'd step on it and hit my face.

I changed clothes and went to the kitchen sink. A surprise rubber band had been put around the hand sprayer, and I was doused again. I washed my hands, only to realize I was using black soap. There was grit in my toothpaste and itching powder in my shoe.

It was an all out practical joke assault.

Finally I took Sherman aside and explained the roles of the dumper and dumpee, and told him I got his point, but that he was getting to be a big boy now and he could jump in the bag with the other cartoon characters all by himself. Or the car, or my overnight bag. He seems to get here and there all the time without me, and if he gets left behind again, he can blame himself.

And so I guess that time I was the dumper.

Anyway, Sherman missed getting his very special birthday present from Mr M. He was to be awarded a special certificate.

























Yes, Our Boy has advanced to the status Intermediate Clarinetist. He can't wait to show everyone in Sauerkraut Band.




















And that was my weekend. Fireworks galore, but not always the fun kind.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners, we have acrowinners! So, what is a fitting way to say "good riddance" to Sarah Palin?
- Honorable Mentions go to Kellie (with an ie), with her "Let Every Oomailiq Rejoice! Northwest Yippees!" and Marla (marlamarlamarla), with her "Lost Energy. Old Republicans Never Yield."
- Runner-Up goes to LilyG, with her "Leave! Enough of Republican nuttiness, you." Excellent, and winning until....
- And this week's winner goes to the DeepFatFriar, with his "Laughingly eject over Rochester, New York." Although I have to admit the idea of Palin exposed naked on rocks, yammering, is enticing.
- Thanks to all who played, you've all done very well! (and were patient to wait a day)