Am I working? Am I blogging? Am I still alive, even?
Actually, yeah, mostly. Here's a recap--and so dull you'll understand why I have not bothered to blog, of late.
Friday night I went to the ballet.
No, really, Brick and I went, and it was lovely, although I must admit I did not feel like I understood it. Oh, well, one needn't understand to appreciate, I hope.
Saturday was my last day at the newspaper. I drove around the southern half of the county taking photos of Navy people donating their time to Christmas in April, an annual service day. People all over the country help those who cannot afford to maintain their homes. It's a good cause, but of course the motto for the paper is:
We Care About The World, As It Affects Pax River Naval Air Station.
So, ONLY Navy guys. Marines, maybe. Civilians with a tie to the base, OK. Everyone else, well, you will just have to gain satisfaction from some other source, because my photos of you were deleted as soon as I realized I could not use them.
On the cute side, one of the team captains was an older gentleman who said that he could only allow me on the work site if my Mom would sign me in.
Darn. So cute. This is the kind of thing you can say once you are Older. I shall keep that in mind.
Also Saturday was the Celtic Festival. I took Sons #1, 3 and 4. We had a good time, especially as we were making our way there.
Lemme set the scene.
We're walking towards the entrance, and of course my mind is swimming with images of poverty from the photos I'd taken hours earlier. I had also had only a normal person's ration of sleep, since I got home from the ballet at 1 a.m. and was on the road by 7:30.
Coming toward us was a family leaving the Festival. Big, harried mom and 4 or 5 rambunctious kids. They were all but brawling as Mom tried to herd them toward the car.
"Justin, slow down.
Justin, stop that.
Justin, be quiet.
Justin, leave your brother alone.
Justin, put that down."
At this point the child I can only assume was Justin lunged toward his brother, toy sword in hand, and faceplanted in the grass. Mom looked down, and without missing a step, said, "GOOD. I'm GLAD you fell down."
Son #3 looked over at the Mom, and said, "I'm glad you fell down?"
Sons #1 and 4 flipped. "Shut up. Shut UP. Geez, shut UP. Shut UP!"
Me, I just busted a gut laughing, and clearly I needed to. Made my whole day. Granted, I have 4 sons myself. I have had 4 small sons. And one of them is of the rambunctious, hassle-your-brother sort. I know for a fact that there have been times when I have seen Karma befall one or another of the Sons, and I have looked on and thought (and even said), "Yeah, well, you kinda earned that one, kid." It was just funny, though. Trust me. If you're not laughing, well, that's OK, too.
Sunday my parents & sister came down for dinner. Had a lovely time.
Today is Son #4's birthday. He is 14. Holy cow. He is right now calling friends to invite him to his birthday party next weekend, "So we can celebrate the inevitable tightening of the grip of death."
And tomorrow I start my new, part-time job as a Census Enumerator.
See? Lots going on, but not a lot that is really fascinating enough for all 30 of you who read.
Thanks for sticking with me, anyway...