Nee smash!
And not in your girly, screechy, glass-breaking way, either. I need a club.
Nee smash trees!
Nee smash bushes!
Nee smash fellow bus passengers!
Nee smash loud, inconsiderate classmates!
Nee smash girl wearing iridescent sequined flip-flops! ROAR!
Damn. D.D.'s "B-O-M-B-Y" song soothes the savage breast when I want to SMASH stuff.
Also this Ilona video creeped me out at first, but now she makes me irrationally happy. (Be patient for the it to load.) We see it in the morning on the kids' channel.
***
I don't know about that saying, "The exception proves the rule." (1) The *rule* proves the rule; for example, "nee should avoid sharp objects," proved by nee stabbing a craft knife under her fingernail while making puppet wigs. (Later that night I sliced strawberries without doing myself a mortal injury. Go me!)
(1) Actually, it's "prove" in the sense of "proofing yeast", i.e., testing it.
The puppets have been a medium success. D.D. spends too much time saying she's bored, and since I have been hoarding boxes, toilet paper tubes, bottles, and every other craft-able item for D.D.'s after-school class, I liberated a few items for "Stewart Family Puppet Theater." A laundry detergent box was transformed into a breathtaking stage, ready to present the comedic highs and tragic lows of the toilet-paper tube soccer players, as drawn by D.D. and yours truly. I dipped into my yarn stash (which takes up a whole under-the-bed craft box) and made several wigs (aka pompons) that can be easily crammed into the top of the tubes. We've had the most fun so far making the hair "grow" by pushing a popsicle stick up the tube. Stay tuned for further adventures in puppetry.
***
We had several days of pleasant weather—which is high praise from me—but a low-pressure system named "Zeus" moved in around lunchtime and put an end to it. After L.H. left to pick up D.D. from school (around 3), it started to rain. When it started to hail (pretty tiny bits), I jumped in the car to carry out my "rescue operation" as D.D. put it. I found the two of them taking shelter in the open garage of one of D.D.'s school mates. His mother drives like a bat out of hell, so they were hoping the rain would let up before she careened into her garage and crushed them. So not only did they not get pelted by hail, but I also saved them from certain death. Go me!
We got a letter from my grandmother in West Texas, and she mentioned the hot weather there. D.D. immediately grabbed some notepaper and wrote:
"Hi, Ma, don't you dare to talk about the weather! The weather is very, very super bad! Love, D.D."
Hee!
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2 comments:
Speaking of West Texas weather... I must dare to mention it. It was 105 today on this glorious fourth of July. We opted to stay inside with the AC like rational people and only venture out, armed with ice water, after dark when it dips down into the high 90s. Wouldn't you know it? We ended up watching the fireworks in the *rain* with *60 mph winds* thanks to the weather system that swooped in from the NW just in time to ruin our (my) perfectly planned mini celebration, and prevent me from taking any acceptable photos of our family enjoying a relaxing first 4th with Baby. Knowing the planner that I am, and how critically important said photos are to me, but also that rain must *never* be compained about in West Texas ... you can imagine the foul mood it precipitated. No pun intended.
Just as an added note: The area of Arkansas that we went to on vacation is in the middle of heinous drought and everything was dry and hot (not so much as West Texas, but still enough to be reminiscent of home). My sympathy for them, however, was limited. If they want to get into a drought complaining contest... I'll take on the whole state and kick their collective rear ends every time.
PS... did you mean to say soothes the savage breast? I am certain that was a typo (similar to my barely literate previous comment), but it conjured up hilarious visions for me nonetheless. I would leave it. ;)
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