Possumblog

The sweetest words ever spoken...

"Primary staff only."

I DON'T HAVE TO GO TO THAT STUPID MEETING THIS MORNING! After the reprieve of yesterday when the supersupervisor (and no one else, for that matter) showed up, I figured there was no way I could get out of this one today. BUT I DID! The big guy only wants the medium-sized guys, and all of the rest of us teensy people get to go off and do teensy people things.

Speaking of meetings, I had a building committee meeting at church last night that started at 6:30. I remembered it right in the middle of eating my salad at Ruby Tuesday about 7:00. Quite embarrassing, especially considering that I'm the one who always hectors people to be at the meetings, and considering that I kept reminding myself all day yesterday that I had a meeting and not to forget it.

But Reba called while I was on the way home yesterday and suggested we take Rebecca out for supper for her birthday, and everything else just slipped my mind. Even took Grandmom with us (Grandpop being out of town on business).

We went to the one in Trussville, which is not the one we've been boycotting in Leeds for the past three years or so. The service is much better--made even betterer this time because our waitress was a girl we go to church with. We didn't even know she worked there, but it was a nice surprise, and she was incredibly attentive. She was so glad to see us she actually stole us from another waiter. Such a sweetheart--she got a big tip.

Of course, we can't go anywhere without drama--Boy didn't want to order off the kid's menu, and decided he just wouldn't eat, and curled up in the booth acting like a baby. After a short tersely whispered lecture about not acting like a baby, he at least sat up straight. Stubborn thing, though--he was going to just not order anything at all and go to bed hungry. Fine.

Remember, never negotiate with terrorists.

After a while, he decided he'd get a salad from the salad bar. I found him up there being pitiful, with a sliver of lettuce leaf and a tomato, and a drop of ranch dressing. Po' baby. ::sotto voce:: "Bud--you can go ahead and get more---you have to pay the same whether you have just a little or a whole lot." After that he made himself a regular salad and ate that. And a pot sticker. And one of Reba's chicken fingers. And a quarter of Rebecca's hamburger. And half a piece of pie with ice cream. I knew he couldn't hold out forever. And doggone it, his kid's salad came off the kid's menu!

Other drama was minor, although Cat was up and down and around and under and through and a thousand other prepositions all night which made me remember the last time we went somewhere relatively nice and I vowed never to go back unless I had a straitjacket and a dart gun full of horse tranquilizers. And no, I'm not sure if that would be for me or for her.

And then there was the sudden remembrance of my missed meeting. I asked at the host's stand if they had a phone book, which took forever for them to not find, so I wound up using precious minutes calling directory information, then wasted a call when the answering machine at church picked up, and then called again and finally got one of the other guys on the committee. Profuse, abject, groveling apology offered, then went back to sit down and wonder why Catherine was making a swan out of her paper napkin. "LOOK, DADDY! A SWAN!"

Yes.

Rebecca was pleased that I had missed my meeting, of course--"So you can spend time with your FAVORITE 13-year-old girl who is having a birthday TODAY! Right, Daddy?"

Right!

All over with, paid, dropped Grandmom at her house, home--and wha?! The garage door would go up a half a foot, then come right back down. What in the world!?

Got out and had to go through the front door and after getting inside set the kids to their homework and baths and went to check out what was wrong. Maybe it was the food-borne stupifying agents or just plain stupificationary genes, but it took me ten minutes to figure out that one of the spring eyes had broken off. I could see the spring and cables dangling there, but couldn't figure out WHY. Until I finally saw the broken piece and had one of those forehead-smacking moments. Well, that'll be inconvenient. And it won't get fixed anytime soon, either.

Why?

Going down to Montgomery with Reba again, that's why. She has her comprehensive final tomorrow, and I agreed to accompany her one more time for old-time's sake. It's not the all-day affair her other times have been, so we'll go down during the day, but that pretty much rules out anything as productive as changing out a garage door spring tomorrow.

It won't rule out an oil change for the Volvo, though, dangitall.

Anyway, now it's time to get on with all of my vastly important teensy person busywork. And other things...

Posted by Terry Oglesby at September 30, 2005 08:47 AM