In an unexpected turn of events, it did not snow this weekend. In fact, the weather was so pleasant on Sunday, I washed windows. I was, after all, mentally prepared to shovel snow so, I figured, why waste that preparedness on laziness and sloth? Besides, the windows really, really needed a good washing and now, they look splendid! The view to the trailer park two blocks over is superb.
Other things I did this weekend include taking the children to see Arthur and the Invisibles which, while not terrible, will not make my list of favorite kid’s movies anytime soon. I did eat my weight in Twizzlers, popcorn and Sugar Babies so, all was not lost.
I also watched a slew of movies this weekend, so that I could get my Netflix queue moving again and, on Sunday, I cleaned the house, which I’m sure comes as no surprise since that is what I do Every. Weekend. Seriously, they might as well chisel: Here lies Chelle. She cleaned house Every. Weekend. on my tombstone.
Also; day of rest, my ass.
The Girl was super helpful though; cleaning her room, helping with the laundry and entertaining the puppy while I worked out, later in the day. She also volunteered to make lunch for herself, Hugh and the Man-Cub while I retired to my bathroom to put the smack down on my gray hair and she was tickled pink when Hugh hailed her tomato soup and grilled cheese (or, boy-cheese if you are the Man-Cub) sandwiches as the best that he had ever eaten. The Cub, while complimenting the sandwiches, refused to even try the soup since, after reading the can, he incorrectly deduced that it was made from a vegetable* and therefore that, should he eat it, he might die. We wouldn’t want to make him eat something that might kill him now would we?
So, you can imagine his horror when I announced that, for dinner that night, we were having French dip sandwiches and French onion soup. The wailing could be heard as far away as the trashy trailer park. Also, through our just-cleaned windows, we could clearly see the trailer park neighbors drop to their knees while covering their ears. There is a lot to be said for clean windows. And, also, for bathrobes, the latter of which I am going to be certain to wear around the house more often since, if I can see out, it only stands to reason that others can see in and....I digress.
Despite his protest, small boys cannot live on boy-cheese sandwiches, mac and cheese, peanut butter-hold-the-jelly-sandwiches and biscuits and gravy, alone so, I made the Cub eat the soup and mostly ignored the gagging and the dramatic way he followed every spoonful with a water chaser. I’ve been conditioned to ignore that child’s gag reflex since he was born with that whole reflux/immature esophagus thing eight years ago; he can gag all he likes, he still won’t get a pass on dinner.
Homey don’t play that.
In the end, the threat that he would not be allowed to work on the car that he and Hugh are building for the Boy Scout’s Pinewood Derby, proved impetus enough for him to choke down the requisite half bowl of soup and, I am happy to report; the onions didn’t kill him. They did make him quite unhappy yet, he lives.
And, his car looks great. He and Hugh have done a fine job on it and we are all looking forward to the derby next month.
Speaking of next month, it is shaping up to be quite busy. The Man-Cub starts wrestling again, Hugh’s brother, sister-in-law and their three kids are coming for a visit, I am making a business trip to Portland (where I am going to rendezvous with my younger sister for a day and a half of shopping, eating out, gossiping and catching up! Squee!), The Girl is turning eleven (eleven, boo, hiss!) and a big project that I am working on at the job will finally get off the ground and going, full-tilt. I get tired just thinking about next month. So, as Scarlett O’Hara would say, “I’ll think about it tomorrow, fiddle dee, dee”.
And, the next weekend is only five days away.
*Tomatoes are, in fact a fruit. However, no amount of discussion on the matter could convince the Man-Cub. Not that it would have mattered anyway since, fruit doesn't rank high on his list of favorite foods, either. It is a wonder the child has escaped scurvy thus far.