But still.
Middle Girl has been taking an art elective in school this year, and they have put on an end-of-the-year art show, and she was very excited that she had three of her pieces displayed.
Now, I do pretty well for myself when it comes to such things--I can draw and paint in a variety of media and I know some things about 3D-type artwork, and there's that whole architectural thing, and so I tend to be a little difficult to impress.
I've posted some of the kids' artwork before when it was of obvious merit, because I do like to brag on them and such. But I have to say, even after stripping away the nepotism factor and such, when she sent me this cell-phone picture of her collagraph print, I was amazed.
That's very good work, I don't care who you are.
(And no, I've not started blogging again.)
I noticed this entry from Dr. Reynolds headlined, "PROFLIGATE BORROWING AND SPENDING," and, as with all other Washington-grade scandals, the first thing that came to mind was that someone must have started labelling the wealth-spreadin'-around grift being conducted on us as "Profli-Gate."
Much as I hate the endless -Gate suffixing of everything, this one fits pretty well.
...that the last time this page changed, it was an entirely different month.
What’s the old saying? “Time flies when you’re having so much garbage to shovel that after the first hour you’d already gone through the entire gross of flimsy plastic sporks they gave you and so afterwards you had to make do with both hands and a torn Ziploc bag, not that it matters, because the garbage pile grows logarithmically, and to help out, a large array of new garbage spewing machines has been set up in a pleasing pattern about you so that no matter where you look, a cascading rainbow of effluvia splatters all around with an annoying, thrumming, ‘ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa’—” oh—wait, that’s not how it goes, is it?
No matter. Anyway, it’s been busy here, which is good considering the amount of non-business going on in other parts of the economy, but the genial watercooler quip about at least having job security still doesn’t ring quite true. You never really know what could be around the corner, other than it’s probably large and hungry and full of teeth. Something about having parents who grew up during the Depression does that to you.
So, anyway, work continues.
Family? Yep, they still exist. School’s about out, which is weird, because they started in August, and that was just last week. All the kids continue to grow up—Boy’s now nearly a head higher than me. Luckily, I can still take him, since I outweigh him by another him. He just got back from a band cruise that stopped in Cozumel, so he had to go get checked for the flu because of the cough he had. Caused by staying in the pool nearly the entire trip. No flu, no strep. And he didn’t get swept overboard or have his guts liquefied by either Mexican water or a contaminated salad bar or get caught up in the crossfire of a drug cartel gun battle. All of which are things parents imagine happening until said child is back at home. He had a bad sunburn, too.
Tiny Terror got herself an iPod Touch. She’s been saving her money for months and months now, and after all that saving and a robbery of the Great Crayon Bank, she’s now part of the iGeneration. Pretty cool little tool. The iPod, that is.
Middle Girl is still rockin’ right along—just finished up soccer season, still working at the vet’s office, still making good grades (they all do, but she seems a bit more driven to do her work).
Oldest has finished her first year of college. For long-time readers, you can all pretty well imagine how it went. For first-timers, you don’t really want to know.
Miss Reba is still working too much, but it’s not as bad as it was. Or at least it doesn’t seem that way, looking at it from the outside.
As for other stuff, I just don’t have enough excess brain capacity to ponder much more than the fundamental things of remembering to wake up each morning, brushing my teeth, and making sure I have on most of my clothes. Every couple of days I see something that angries up the blood and makes me want to launch a tirade, but then I have to get back to shoveling. Like, right now, for instance.