We do get only the one ride through life. I firmly believe that if we actually KNEW how numbered our days and hours were, we would absolutely not waste any time at all grumping or complaining. And yeah, I know that "grumping" isn't a real word, but it should be.
Today, I worked at the basketball game. Do I like leaving my youngsters and driving to the city, parking in a parking garage with low ceilings and tiny parking spots?(I actually got a ride with my niece today, so I didn't have to drive:)) Paul and I have taken turns scraping up the minivan in there, actually. I went first, trying to exit the garage, and scraaaaaaaaping along the corner, oops. Paul asked me for weeks and months how I could possibly scrape up the van so badly. I just don't know, I said. The space I had to drive through was too small, I said. Then lo and behold, one night we were happily getting into that poor minivan to leave after a long night working, and scraaape BANG, he smashed the driver's door right into a cement post as he backed out. Far be if from me to sit there laughing and saying how glad I was that he had a turn. How could you do that, I asked? oh joy, it was totally worth it. Our poor minivan.
Anyway. Going to the Dome to work isn't what I would choose to do on a Sunday, or any other day, for that matter. But. It is what it is, and it is what I make of it. I got to see my friends. I got to see this adorable boy with Down's Syndrome, who was with his daddy, who obviously loved him to the moon and back. I got to see a chubby little girl buy a cookiewich (a cookiewich is a devilish invention, consisting of two superyummy chocolate chip cookies with swirled soft ice cream frozen in the middle. 550 calories.)Anyway, this little girl, around ten years old or so, counts out the money from her sparkly little change purse, gets her cookiewich, then her mother comes up behind her, and berates her..."Oh, you ate up all the popcorn by yourself, now you buy something you can't share with us. Seriously." um, wah? My niece Audrey actually cried. It was just so mean of that mom! That child is going to grow up and have to go to counseling.
Anyway. It wasn't horrid to work today. It was actually quite pleasant. We usually have this manager who didn't seem to attend the Be Nice To Your Workers School. She is snappy and barge-y, if you are in her way, oh well, she just shoulders into you. She grabs, doesn't say please and thank you, and she really gets after the younger ones at times. She isn't always horrid, and I actually like her as a person, to an extent. Okay, I love her but don't really like her. I figured out that I love her one night when she was leaning totally into my personal space, squatting down, trying to fix a clogged soda line, when I pressed the cash button on my register, and the drawer flew open, almost hitting her head. oops. I grabbed the drawer just in time to save her from a horrible corner bump, and realized, dear Lord, I love this woman. But honestly, I don't always like her too much.
But. Anyway. We had a different manager tonight, and it was totally chill, much more pleasant, and relaxed.
The children are nestled all snug in their beds, or rather, two of them are in my bed. Daddy is in France, so they get to be comfy and snuggly with me, those two little princesses.
Animals in the house, help! One of the dogs, we won't mention any names, but I am thinking along the lines of Duke, poops in the house a few times a week. I. Hate. It. Of course, I mean, who would like it? So, we put this lovely piece of plywood across the living room doorway, so they can't get into the halls or go downstairs. They work like crazy until they budge it out of place, and get through and go sleep with Jonny, and sneak into the hallway, and if the un-named dog has to go, he goes. This morning they woke me up, on a Sunday morning, at six o'clock. It was still dark out, and Duke was barking his little yip. Yip. Yip. He does this long silence in between barks, long enough to drift back to sleep. Then I would wake again, and think, that dog has to poop. So I got up and let them out. I waited there on the cold tile floor of the kitchen, wondering if I would be able to fall back to sleep.
And...those brats! One of them pooped on the kitchen floor! I am thinking Duke, I really am.
Ah well. I cleaned it up, and am still alive.
And, I went on Target . com and ordered a pet gate. It's really cute, with a kitty door so the cats can go through. I will put that up and keep them out here, at least.
Oh the fun and adventure that comes with having pets. I still think it's worth it. Those dogs are so sweet and cuddly and fun. And the kitties...
Little kitty doesn't care who she bugs. She has no fear. Big kitty can swat at her, growl at her, nothing deters her. She just pounces and wacks and attacks the twitching tail.
She jumps up and bites big kitty. Big kitty seems to be getting used to it, and barely reacts. The dogs put up with all sorts of abuse from spunky little kitty. The Kettler, that's her official name.
Two cats, two dogs. That's still sane. I will not get any more pets, that would be insane. Although I could totally be the crazy cat lady. And I would love a yellow lab. Then I think of Duke, and the poop, and of when they get into the garbage during the night and I wake up to piles of coffee grounds all over the kitchen floor....I get real sane real quick, and know I don't want any more pets.
They are more work than the kids.
Today, I got a cookiewich. And a piece of pizza. The pizza was Waste Pizza, which means we couldn't sell it because it was mangled or burned or something. So we could eat it. I only ate the cheese and pepperoni off the top, and threw away the crust. Then I ate half my cookiewich, and despite how much my mother used to harp on the sin of wasting food, I wrapped it up in the wrapper, and threw it away. I had had enough, and throwing it away is better than over eating. Yay me! You have no idea how good it feels to break away from something like.
Then I came home and had popcorn for dinner. But that's all I had, and it was for dinner, and yeah, I know I need to make better choices, but I still find that I eat based on how I feel, and I felt tired and sorry for my poor knees and feet, and wanted to relax....and eat popcorn.
Ah well, tomorrow is another day. I will make good choices.