I know it’s been a few days. But believe it or not, I’m not still hungover. I’ve just been exceptionally busy watching bad movies and waiting for my birds to squeeze each other out of the nest. Oh, and DRIVING CHEYENNE TO SUMMER CAMP FAR, FAR AWAY.
But, before I get into that, I feel compelled to tell you all, or warn you, rather, about this movie:
Circa 1974. Sean Connery. Sporting a long, black ponytail and tight red panties and a sash. It’s not pretty. Even the unlimited boobage does not make up for how…just plain bad…and wierd…this movie is. I am beyond scarred.
What made me watch the thing in its entireity? My husband. He was entranced by the floating stone head that said "Guns are good" in the beginning of the film, and refused to change the channel. I watched, in horror, for the most part. I wish I could better describe it–perhaps the words "STAY AWAY FROM THIS MOVIE" will suffice…
Yesterday, I made the 3-hour-backwoods-po-dunk drive to Granite, Oklahoma, to drop Cheyenne off at a Girl Scout camp where she’ll be staying until Friday. It looked like a pretty nice place–the cabins were cute–there were horses…but before I could even get so much as a good-bye tear in the kids were whisked off to the pool for a swimming test. I didn’t even get to hug the girl! She didn’t seem to mind, but I was about to die–especially when a bewildered Mia started screaming, "Sissy? Sissy! SissAAAAAAAY!"
Talk about breaking a heart.
I’m sure she’s having a blast–I say this with as much confidence as a parent who cannot communicate with her daughter can…they’re not allowed to call home, and the mail…well, it takes a few days of course. I keep wondering how she slept, what all they’ve done, is she drinking enough water, is she constipated?…The weather’s been nice, so I know she’s not totally boiling in those non-electric, non-air conditioned bunks…but I’m still worried about the constipation thing. I’m glad she never reads these blogs.
Caleb has officially thrown his back out. He had to stay home yesterday after moaning all night long–I don’t know exactly what did it, but I suspect it had something to do with the birthday festivities…
Anyway, I’ve been massaging, icing, medicating…he’s pretty much parked his crippled butt on the couch the past couple days, and has hobbled around a precious little bit with the aid of a back brace. I feel sorry for him–it kills him to have to sit still, and now it kills him to move. The poor man.
Our birds have exploded into balls of gray feathers–I can see them easily now without the aid of a stepladder since they no longer fit down into the nest. There are officially five of them, and each day they get a little bigger–I am betting that here before the end of the week, I will find at least one of them splattered all over the front porch. It’s just inevitable.
Well, that’s the news according to me. I’ll try to read some later on in the week if I’m not too distraught about my missing-in-action kid. Thanks for the Happy Birthday wishes!