Geoff has been a saint the past couple of days. He wore his Roethlisberger Jersey to school today even though it stank and needed a good washing. I asked him to change into his Steelers T-shirt and he said "no. I need to show that I'm with Ben and I hope he gets better from his accident..." he said this with his hand over his heart and a totally serious facial expression.
I understood completely.
"Well then buddy, that's alright by me," I said. "Just go put on some deodorant."
Yesterday was Jess' 8th grade graduation. Linda, correct me if I'm wrong but I sure the heck don't remember HAVING a GRADUATION ceremony for 8th or 9th grade, whatever year I was last in Junior High (in Jess' case, Middle School). But they do around here and I have to say I commend our district because they give out five honorable mentions per class and three actual MEDALS. Serious, honest to gravy medals. Bronze, Silver and Gold. Like it is the freaking Olympics of Academia.
One girl walked away with just about every gold medal. The team leader for Jess' team, the social studies teacher, cracked to her as she left the stage "If you need a wheelbarrow or something... a hand carrying all that... just let me know and I'll arrange it. Okay?"
No one laughed. I guess she is the one who will either carry this super academic stardom all the way through high school or something horrid will happen in the tenth grade that will send her spiraling downward into mediocrity.
Jess got Honorable Mention in German and History. Which surprised me because I thought she was in the top three of her class in both subjects. She got a Bronze medal in Theatre Arts. Shocked the heck out of me because she beat the one person I was sure would win the gold...
"Were you surprised you beat out E to get a medal?" I asked her.
"No, I was surprised I got Bronze."
There's confidence for you people. She never ceases to amaze me. The medal in theatre was the only thing that mattered to her... the fact she got honorable mention in the other subjects was meaningless. Theatre is the girl's life. And she wants to win. So she'll keep gunning for it, and God bless her endeavors.
A medal. Jebus. That's just mindblowing. I'm rather proud of her. Rather.
I've been looking on Craigslist for a bureau for Geoff. I'm noticing a lot of people are getting rid of IKEA stuff left and right. For all the hot-ticketness of IKEA, I'm wondering why it is unloaded so much. Do people outgrow IKEA? Is it just ... crappy?
I ponder these things...
Speaking of ponderings, I would like all the American Readers who are all crazy about Hugh Laurie on House to realize that back in 2002 I was all about Hugh Laurie.
I saw him first. Back the hell off. He's mine. If you follow the link, go down to the bottom of the page for my gushing adorations of Mr. Laurie.
I'm going to a wedding on Saturday. A GAY WEDDING! Oh yes. And I'm so looking forward to it. Because I love the two involved.
I know there is a great deal of controversy around weddings of the gay persuasion, but I really don't give a darn. I do have a problem with the semantics of using the term "wedding" and "marriage," because that is traditionally defined as man and woman. I wish another word for the exact same thing existed. I'm not a wordsmith skilled enough to create something. I wish I could.
But keep this in mind... if I have a problem with it for man and man or woman and woman, I would also have to start objecting to the overuse of the term in MARKETING.
A Rich Marriage of Style and Comfort. A Marriage of modern and traditional architecture!
NO! Away with you blasphemers and threat to the institution! How dare you use the term MARRIAGE for CONCEPTS!!
Seriously. Wedding, marriage, whatever it is called, to me it is love. It is commitment, and it is legal and binding and there are benefits that are due to life partners who are by the bedside at age 80 as someone is fading into the dark. It is only fair.
And I'm okay with that. If you're not, I understand. You're not invited. I bet.
Personally, I think Brittany Spears is more of a threat to the institution of marriage than M and J are. Or any other gay couple. She's a skanky ho. Yes, I said it. Skanky assed ho. And her behavior is more of a threat to the institution than a binding partnership between two individuals like M&J will ever be.
Ahem, off the soap box.
As for this event, the gay wedding, it will be my first. I hope I look fabulous. Can't go to a gay wedding unfabulous now, can you? No.
And I'm sure the reader is rolling his eyes right now. If he's not too busy being married to his work and how busy his schedule is! Oh yeah! Misuse of the term! You betcha!
I grilled swordfish for dinner tonight. Grilling season is here, and whenever it does not pour down rain on my sorry lame ass (and even when it does!) I'll be out grilling.
While I was out grilling, the neighbor business owner came over to say hi. She's a chiropractor and has a massage therapist on staff. She had a problem with a stalker sending out a very nasty letter to neighborhood residents a few years back, long time readers may recall... the Red Letter saying that she gives blow jobs after 7pm. Remember that? If you don't, I am looking for the entry so I can link to it and refresh your memory.
She's a really nice and wonderful person. I didn't bring the fact up that I'd received one of those letters but I'm dying to know the backstory and what ever became of her stalker.
We talked about the yard and the boy and the girl and her hours and I told her I'll be visiting for the massage therapy one of these days... She was really nice and very welcoming. "I hear you moved here from just down the street..." she says. So already someone has filled her in.
Not much else. I'm surprised that my Ben entry from yesterday didn't garner more comments. I thought it would be a real talking points kind of entry for all my readers to rally'round. Speaking of which, my hits have gone from an average of 40 per day to over 60. I'm wondering why. So if you're new here (Trace, you've already left a comment... thanks!) do leave me a note in the comments box there on the left.