Thursday, March 18, 2010

The 4th Musketeer Has Second Thoughts

So distractible. I meant to begin writing but actually ended up looking up mail order succulents. So anyway, I’m writing. Would you like to hear about my day? That’s why I like you. You always seem interested or you feign it very well.

This morning I took some cash out of my secret cash puzzle box and drove to Beaver Bark. I meant to see what sort of succulent selection they have and honestly, it wasn’t great. Still, I found four I figured I didn’t already have and bought them. I’m having fun collecting them and have big ideas for my planters and window boxes this year. Imagine it! Plants that thrive on neglect. On the raging Eastern Washington sun. I love the look of colorful annuals but good grief they depress me in July and August when watering twice a day isn’t even enough. I may have finally come to terms, horticulturally speaking, with the fact that I don’t live in Western Washington.

Today was the 3rd grade play. Kenny made the executive decision to not try out for a part and just be part of the chorus. I think he sort of regretted it because in the end three of his best friends landed the roles of The Three Musketeers (and I hear his buddy Jack was originally cast in Caleb's role!). As we drove home after school he said he sort of wished he’d given it a shot; maybe he could’ve been d'Artagnan. My clever boy wasn’t taking into consideration that this play was called “Three of a Kind”. There were The Three Bears, The Three Caballeros, The Three Wise Men, The Butcher, The Baker, and The Candlestick Maker, The Three Billy Goats Gruff, The Three Blind Mice, The Three Little Pigs . . . you get the picture. No room for the 4th Musketeer there.

A little later I dropped him off at soccer practice and headed over to C&M Nursery to see what they had. Not much either but I did find six varieties of Hen and Chicks (sempervivum or houseleeks) that I didn’t have and they cost half of what I would’ve paid at Beaver Bark. Still, I’m on the lookout for some more interesting varieties. I have definitely found a new hobby and by the glazed looks from folks I share this with, I think that may be a pretty strange thing.

When soccer was finally over and Kenny climbed in the van, he told me he only had an hour and a half till he had to be back at school. In church clothes he said. I looked at the clock and realized that what we actually had was 25 minutes and we still had to have dinner. And I had some clothes to iron, apparently. Darn it!

Well, we ran for the border because what else could we do? I had this strange idea I’d have time to make Sloppy Joes or something but of course that was out of the question. Even with take out and me squawking and ironing and completely losing it, we were still not on time. Or were we not on time because I was squawking and ironing and completely losing it? Whatever. We arrived and the show did go on.

Now this may just be unnecessary complaining (it most certainly is) but this is my blog and I reserve the right to express some opinions here and there. And everywhere. Here’s what raised my eyebrows tonight: Why was Kenny told to dress up when the music teacher, the woman who put the whole thing together and who stood in front of us pleased as punch, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt? I know she is well loved. I know she is very likely an amazing woman. I know, I know. It just struck me as weird.

And now a somewhat unrelated thought. Tonight, after the play, and after Dairy Queen with friends (of which, round of applause please, I did not partake, though I did inhale), Michael and I returned to Taco Bell to retrieve the Crunch Wrap they didn’t quite put in the bag the first time. On the way over we started talking about Facebook and why we have as many friends as we do (lots of schools and moving around) and it got us talking about our friends at 60 Wadsworth Street back in our M.I.T. grad school days. Back then I had friends from Mexico and South America and I told Michael I always envied something about their lifestyle. Family was important and children were loved and taken care of but the adults also had very separate, adult lives. They ate dinner together later. They dressed up and spent time with adult friends often. I don’t see much of that here. I mean we dress up for church, where we spend an hour or three wrangling kids and wondering WHY we bothered dressing up, but that’s as far as it goes a lot of the time. Maybe a date night or girl’s night out here and there, I don’t know. Life seems so kid-centered. I love kids. I mean I have five of them and they really are an endless source of humor and interest but seriously, I became a grown up for a reason. Okay, I didn’t have much of a choice but honestly, we need to make being a grown up look way more cool or these kids are never going to be really interested in maturing and stepping up to the plate for the hard stuff. I mean doesn’t it make you want to cry when you see grown men deeply invested in computer gaming? Or women wearing ratty sweatpants with logos across the rear at the grocery store? Yes, I know that Child Rearing is sort of the age and stage I’m at but no, I don’t buy that either. I will certainly miss all of this when it’s done but I’m not saying I don’t love it right now. I just want more. Is that asking so much? Maybe. But I figure life is supposed to go on after the kids fly the coop. Not just begin. Wow. I must be tired. Please forgive the rant. What? Go to sleep? Okay, okay.

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