You learn something new every day. Apparently, the fifteenth wedding anniversary is the one where you gift your mate with crystal. Since Crystal didn't want to be wrapped up and stuffed into a box for my husband (she's not very obliging that way, darn her infernal soul!), we did Our Own Thing as usual. We decided to go for a family meal this Saturday to our favorite, and expensive, restaurant. We amended that we could *make* each other gifts for the actual day instead. In keeping with my (very large and financially ruinous) craft jones, I made Juggling Freak a card. When I arrived home from school today, he'd made me an adorable little clay penguin. (Yes, I have a thing for penguins. It all goes back to my wild love of Opus from the "Bloom County" comic strip. Don't ask. It's complicated.)
Anyhow, another thing upon the now miles-long list of Things I Did Not Know, is that if your husband gets sick and REALLY stuffed up, all that mucus that's clogging up his sinuses will eventually begin leaking out of the tear ducts in his eyes, giving him a gloriously nasty case of "viral-induced" conjunctivitis. I will now go wash all the pillowcases and sheets on our bed.
I also learned that I shouldn't wear my Crocs to school on days when it's expected to rain, as our main hallway has those institutional floors, and I hydroplane like a muther.
I've also learned that I have some awarding to do!
This week, In the "Whine of Substance" category:
Esperanza, who still does not have her wee one home with her from the NICU. It's bad enough that your sweetie is still there, without having to deal with the Drama Mamas who wail and rend their clothes because their baby has to stay OVERNIGHT in the NICU. Yeah, when you've got your own parking space at the hospital, *then* you're allowed to whine, you overly-dramatic wench! (The Drama Mama, not Esperanza. In case I wasn't clear. Like I am nine tenths of the time.)
Uccellina, and the insurance, or lack thereof. That's awful. Nothing like throwing you to the wolves all at once, is there?
Turtlebella, for the not-even-trying woes. And here's to hoping that pretty soon, your whines will be all about morning sickness and nipple pain. After all, someone's got to bring the boobage to the party.
Jenr for the boss putting off the performance review, and thus THE RAISE that *comes* from said review **AND** the sucky timing at being looked at for the Dream Job at the worst time. Here's crossing our fingers that they do remember you in the spring!
And in the "Not Minor By Any Means, But Still Extremely Vexatious" category:
Devil MacDawg with her Little Miss S's violent tantrii since the arrival of Baby Mac. Can we say "sibling rivalry"?
Margalit's Neverending Story of How Mental Illness in The U.S. Blows Donkeys, and the assorted crap that that dumps on her life. This, in addition to the busted toilet, complete with the landlord that cares not, and hives. Where's that Morton's Salt again?!
Liz and her brief ode to school: "School. Gah! Tearing hair out!!!" Higher learning has sure refined her editorial skillz, has it not?
Sue, and her GP, who is lacking the "humor is not appropriate right now" button. "Fireplace," indeed!
Jeni, who is apparently attending vet school where the administrators follow Corndog's New Math Principles. Apparently, under the New Math, five *does* actually equal 12! I'm damned if I know how they do it, but there it is. Probably has to do something with the conversion of American units to Scots, or something.
Amy's lament: "skool is dumm." No, honey -- that might just be your students. And their essays. And the fireplacing calendar. And....
The "Stylin' and Profilin'" goes out to thatmommy for not only becoming a mother of a THIRD child, but by doing so IN VERSE, and partly in Russian! Wow. Now, I just feel inadequate. :)
A special award, in honor of our founder, goes to Mrs. Coulter. She may now display the shiny, slashed, and x-ed through Dragon Scale of Gender Inequality proudly on her mantelpiece. Or, hurl it into the sun. Whichever.
kathy a. wins the coveted "Elevated Risk of Mullet" award this week via her diatribe to a glossy depiction of a higher standard of living: "I want to beat them over the marketing lobes of their puny souls with a cluestick the size of a cannon, but haven't yet worked up enough energy to alert the consumer protection people about idiots who send highly-scented, diamond-encrusted, multi-pound junk mail to strangers." Hear, hear. When you think of a way, please do share!
Thanks to all for the whining this week, and all the lovely "happy anniversary" wishes. You guys rock out loud! Until next week, when Elizabeth will be the hostess to wow us with her presence and wit!