Random

Tonight Kayleigh asked me, "What happens when you have sex during your period?"
I answered after a moment, "It's pretty messy."
She said, "Isn't it always?"
I laughed.

Got the first paper of the new school year out on time on Monday. I think everyone was pretty excited. I was, too, but not as much as I thought I'd be. I was thinking about the next issue. My advisor said that's the way newspaper people are - once the paper's done, they've moved on.

Here's a link. The graphic on the front is from last year's final issue, though. Oops. I'll have to nag tomorrow. http://matcmadison.edu/clarionline/

We'll see if that link works. I have trouble with links.

People have been walking in all week wanting to work. That's great. Three have already bagged out of their stories, though. At least they told me now instead of just running away never to be seen again.

So, let's just say from now on that I'll be updating my blog on Wednesdays. It seems to be all I've got. Most of what I write is fairly insipid, stream-of-consciousness BS. If you all wanted a theme or something profound, you're SOL. It's been my experience that my family and friends enjoy my babbling more than my deep thoughts anyway.

Suffering from CRS

Oh, balls.

I just remembered that the painter is coming tomorrow. That little detail is just one of probably several dozen that I can't keep in my head.

We got a bill today for the brake job on our van. We weren't able to pick it up while the repair shop was open on Friday, so they left the key and a bill in the van, and we were supposed to pay Monday. We forgot.

I forgot to mail a letter to one of Kayleigh's friends. She wrote it three weeks ago now. I forgot to fill out a form at Kayleigh's registration, and now I keep forgetting to stop by the school and do it.

There's probably more. But it's all forgotten for now.

The painter is coming because of the roofers. On their first day, they got as far as tearing off the old shingles and laying paper down. Then they left for the weekend. Except it rained all Saturday. Sunday morning, we had leaks in the kitchen. There was water dripping off the light fixture and there were spots above the stove and sink. Then they got bigger. Then they turned brown. Eew.

We tried to see where the water was coming in, but we couldn't tell. After the rain stopped and the skies weren't so black, we could see that the paper had pulled back in rather a large area.

So the roofer said he'd send a painter to fix it. Tomorrow is the day. And, as luck would have it, since our kitchen ceiling hasn't been painted in so long, he has to paint the whole thing because he can't match the colors. Heh, heh, heh.

Guess I better clean the kitchen tonight. Damn.

Bloody roofers

I'm about to leave for the grocery store. What international oddity should I buy today? Hmmm....

The roofers left on Saturday. We're still finding nails, but at least they're new nails, not nasty old rusty nails full of black goo from old shingles. We went with the cheapest bidder. We'd used him before at our old house, so we knew it would take a while for him to get to us and that once he started, it wouldn't be a one-day rip and tack operation.

The problem with waiting for him is that we've spent all the insurance money. You see, in spring we had a fabulous hail storm – it was the biggest hail I'd ever seen – big as baseballs, some of it. It was very exciting and somewhat frightening, too, and I was really glad I'd put the van in the garage. Our whole neighborhood got reroofed this summer.

So, on the roofers' first day, the owner's grandson, who's 22 and looks like he'd rather be playing God of War on the PS2 or having a nice toke, ripped a lovely long gash in his hand. He climbed down the ladder and asked Eric for a band-aid. Eric tried to help him wash it, but it was gushing blood all over our kitchen. Eric wrapped it up and told him he needed to go to urgent care.

About then, the poor boy started turning a greener shade of pale. His grandma pulled up just then to get him some more water, and Eric pushed him into the seat next to her. Then he started to shake. Grandma couldn't look.

He ended up with four stitches and came back to work that afternoon.

But now we're done with all that. Thank goodness. Hopefully we won't need to reroof until we're so old that we just sell the house as-is and check into assisted living.

Cooler-than-thou and diva butt

Today we registered Kayleigh for school. According to her, all things school related are soooo lame. She even rolled her eyes when they tried to take her school picture. I wish they'd've taken the picture with the eye-rolling. It would at least be an accurate recording of this stage of her life. Frizzy hair, greasy skin, mouth agape, eyes rolling. Yeah. And her face really would have stuck like that. In print anyway.

My house is a complete disaster.

Tonight Kelsey asked, "How do you spell diva?" I laughed. I told her how to spell it, too. She wrote it on the butt of her Doodle Bear.

Talk to my agent

I got home from work on Monday, and my daughter was in my husband's office. By the hushed tones and unintelligible words, I could tell they were talking shop. I smiled a little smile, happy that they have that time to geek out together. It's great to see Kayleigh growing into a capable, curious young woman.

Tuesday found me at a student leader retreat at a sleazy park. The less said publicly about the environment the better. The retreat was OK. I learned a lot, actually. I wasn't happy to learn some of it, though. For instance, one young student leader said, "Like, what is The Clarion? I see it around, and I don't know what it is. Why would I even want to read it?"

I said, "Pick it up!" I didn't smack her.

Then a confirmed rabble-rouser started in: "You know what the problem with The Clarion is?" and he spouted off for a good, long time. Such emotion, such vehemence, such scorn.

I do have my job cut out for me.

Wednesday was decidedly more pleasant, although when the day started, I worried. I looked in the mirror, and the bags under my eyes were even bigger and darker than usual. Just beyond those giant bags, I was green. I thought, "Great. I look completely hungover. At least if I were hungover, I'd've had the pleasure of getting myself into that condition. This is not how I want to appear on film."

Yes, Wednesday was my day to film the New Student Daze video. It will run as a loop in the theater, apparently, welcoming new students to school and telling them what they'll be doing that day to get them ready for the first day of class and beyond.

Did I really want to appear before thousands of students looking like I major in recreational drug use? Not especially. And especially not especially since I wasn't going to get paid. [Have fun with the syntax on that one, folks.]

Add to that, my right contact lens wouldn't stay in place, and my pants have shrunk by about 12 pounds since school started last year. Ah, well. Imagine the demographic we'd reach by my appearance.

After a slow start to the morning, we got filming underway. There were five of us student actors. The Student Life staff appeared in one shot, too. We had trouble with our lines, and the teleprompter was so slow that none of us could actually speak that slowly. So we worked around longer lines by changing the script, handing off lines to other actors, and using cut-scenes. There was a lot of ambient noise and general busyness in the school, so it took a long time to film. We were all over that school and even at the bus stop.

I was the narrator. I originally expressed interest in that part because I thought I could do a voiceover and not actually subject the public to my face. I also thought that since I have a rather monotonous vocal quality (soothing, it's politely been called), people would expect a boring narration, and I'd be perfect. Ah, but I hadn't looked at the script carefully.

We all did a fine job, I think. Major kudos to Penny and Walter, though. Great work - they should do this sort of thing for money.

As for me, well - no autographs, please.

Now - no more bitching that I haven't updated my blog in a week! I'm trying....

What was I thinking?

You know, I've had it pretty good for a long time. I've been home with my kids. And they're good kids. They're pleasant (most of the time), they're smart, interested in the world, funny, cute--all that good stuff. My husband is a nice guy--a wonderful man, according to my mother, and even my feminist friends who hate men like him. He's kind, thoughtful, smart, hard-working, goofy. He keeps me nicer than I would otherwise be. And he's made enough money so that we can have a fine life and I can stay home and be a mom.

I'm grateful.

So why did I go and cock it up by getting a job? I mean, for cryin' out loud, I've got it made here! What was I thinking?! Suddenly I've got deadlines and people expecting me to know what the hell I'm doing and expecting me to do something. I don't do things; I float from task to task in a lovely, leisurely manner and have a little snack in-between.

My kids aren't back in school yet, so I drag them along to my office or, worse, leave them home while Eric tries to work in his little corner of the house. (It's August--babysitters are hiding. They've been so terrorized by their June and July babysitting disasters that they've very inconveniently scheduled themselves beyond any availability.)

Sure, my mind has been on a long recess. So I was happy to use my brain again, happy to be with adults, happy to do something not focused on a family member. I needed those changes. Going back to school and work has been fun and exciting and rewarding, and in a lot of ways, I wish I'd done it years earlier.

But holy buggering barnyard animals. This is going to take some getting used to.

(Speaking of sex with barnyard animals, read the book Farm Boys, by William D. Fellows. There is one section in there that--well, I read it repeatedly. I heard that the book inspired Brokeback Mountain, but I don't know if that's true or not.)