I got out my sewing machine yesterday. And by "got out" I mean that I removed several metric tons of crap that covered it. It was almost as if someone had put that stuff on top of it to purge the very memory of its existence. I had found this very cute idea, you see, and thought that it would make a very cute end of the year gift for some of the teachers that have been kind enough not only to put up with my kids on a daily basis, but to educate them as well! All that would be required of my machine would be several simple zigzag stitches. Easy, right? No big deal, correct? HAHAHAHAHAHA!! I may have stated here before that my sewing machine hates me. That has to be the reason that my bobbin thread kept tangling. And I'm not talking a little knot. I'm talking "shut down the machine because half a spool of thread is tangled in this freaking thing" kind of tangled. So tangled that even Rapunzel would have been jealous. So tangled that I cursed the Singers, their stupid machine, and their family even unto the generations. So tangled that I cursed the invention of the needle. So tangled that I threw my project in a heap, glared at the machine and told it that it was going back to the bottom of the pile of crap in my closet and it could molder there for the rest of its time on this earth. Hmph.
Anyone want to make some simple zigzag stitches for me?
Mother Nature has it in for me. First she decides that it would be great to try to throw me into depression by hiding the sun and sending rain and cold temperatures for nearly all of April. Then she decides to skip the normally beautiful and temperate month of May and just head for the yawning mouth of hell that is July. There's something wrong with having the air conditioner turned on in May in Indiana.
And she has also told the cottonwood trees to have a party and send their fluff into the air like so much confetti so that my family and I wake in the mornings with clogged sinuses and crusty eyes. She has also tried to ruin any grilling that I do with this fluff because it doesn't care where it lands or if it will commit nature's version of suicide by landing on my grill and any of the food that might be on it.
Bite me, Mother Nature.
Maggie was inducted into the National Junior Honor Society last week. We are mighty proud. Sometimes she doesn't even seem 14, such is her maturity. Aaaaaand then she proves that she is indeed a teenager with some sort of hormonal induced fit of pique. Or eye rolling. Yeah. The eye rolling is proof that she is still a teenager.
Still. So proud.
I wish that I had the guts to send out a letter to teachers at the beginning of May that I am off duty for the month. I am no longer interested in ridiculous homework, projects that require more than minimal time or effort (read: anything more than my signature), or carnivals or fairs in which you not only want my attendance but you ask that I volunteer time, money, and/or baked goods as well. I say that really, once DST goes into effect and the evening is extended, my only homework should involve the many different ways I can use my grill (sans cottonwood fluff, of course) and inventive ways of getting my family to do fun stuff outside.
Alas, I am a Gutless Wonder and have not sent such a letter.
Sean had a baseball game last night. On one of his at bats, he hit a single. Yay! Then he stole second. Yippee! Then he stole third--had to slide and totally evaded the tag. Wahoo! He knocked third base loose. Then the ball was over thrown at home and he was waved on by his coach. You know what my boy did? You know, my boy who can't pick up his laundry or wet bath towels? He was trying to put the base back.
He knew he should be running, but he was frantic with trying to get the base put to rights. The coaches were yelling, jumping, and windmilling their arms wildly. The parents were yelling "Run! RUN!" and my sweet boy was trying to put the base back. Eventually something clicked (and thankfully there was another overthrown ball--gotta love Little League) and he dropped the base and sprinted head down, arms pumping for home where he scored.
Completely made my night. If you are feeling the least bit grumpy or out of sorts, I highly recommend watching young kids play sports. I can fairly guarantee that you will feel better afterwards.