Who did you want to be in 1983?

I wanted to be Alex from Flashdance. Not Alex exactly, because she was a welder and while it LOOKED cool, all the sparks seemed worrisome. But definitely Alex the dancer (or all three Alex dancers, because really how could you choose? Plus it would be like Sybil 3 to try to separate them).

So what was I doing in 1983? Living in a house in Hyde Park (pier and beam with 10 full inches of air under the pine floors– perfect for your legs while dancing). I worked at a dance studio on 6th Street, above a now defuncto bar. Our most popular class? Torturcize. Woo-hoo. My wardrobe consisted of leotards, footless tights, character shoes, leg warmers, two pairs of jeans and a sweatshirt. All of it pretty damn shabby. Basically I WAS Alex, minus two of the dancers, the welding job, the Porsche-driving beau, the cool shower accoutrement, and the lobster. Also lacked the perfect boobless bod that could wear a tux bib without being totally obscene. Is it called a ‘bib’? Or is it a dicky? Heh heh.

Are you ready for some FOOTBALL!

Last night was the season opener against a school in Fort Worth. We got home at three a.m., and all I know is I LOVE buses!

Here’s the Boy, making a big ole tackle — go Boy go!

Boy is 16! Boy is 16!

He got a Sheriff’s Badge for his birthday. Plus Pirate Bendy, the Charles Dickens action figure, and Mr. T In Your Pocket. Hello. All that and cake for breakfast. It don’t get no better than that.

In other news:

Back in the Biscuit

Last night while driving the BBE’s truck to the store, little warning lights popped up all over the place. Little warning brake lights. Stop-the-car stuff. So the BBE tells me the brakes are fine, but if I’m REALLY worried he’ll have them checked mid-morning. After driving the Boy down MoPac to school. After driving out to the sticks for a job. After driving his wife completely nuts because she’s– I don’t know– imagining him flattened against the back of a semi?

He’s driving my Beast for today. After stuffing the back with backpacks, lunch boxes, extra bags of locker doo-hickies and books (first full day of school), field hockey sticks, football gear, and water bottles I sent everyone off at 7:20. Coming back inside, I was cataloging my to-dos for the morning: 1. clean out/organize pantry; 2. bake cake and cookies for the Boy’s birthday; 3. figure out presents for Boy; and SCREEEEEECH!!! go the mental brakes. There’s my cat, the precious Penelope, on the kitchen counter, in my purse, peeing.

Pee-Penelope-purse; purse-pee-Penelope; alliteration aside these words don’t go together. This can’t happen, right?

After cleaning up the non-event, I’m back in the biscuit. Must have twenty-minute nap to put earth back in orbit.

Whiner Begone!

All it takes is one total ass-kicking of a day to get me back into the school year, and today was that day. I’m now dreaming about the next days/weeks/months ahead, when the babie will actually be IN ONE PLACE FOR MORE THAN TWO HOURS. Me? I’ll possibly be able to stay focused long enough to accomplish something. Anything. Like laundry.