Mr. B came home from school yesterday and began enthusiastically and determinedly digging a giant hole. Mr. G soon joined him, and then Mr. T got into the action. When they finally dropped their shovels last night, two kids could fit in the hole. I'll have to take a picture of their project when they're done. Apparently this dig was inspired by a dinosaur unit in 1st grade.
As a baseball widow (a shout out to Clemson Girl who has it worse than me--her husband coaches college), I'm running ragged getting Team Testosterone to karate classes, Boy Scouts, baseball and soccer. We ate on the go at our favorite greasy Chinese chopstick joint (as opposed to a "greasy spoon joint") and took our Chinese doughnuts (holy clogged arteries, Batman!) with us. I've got no business touching the doughnuts, I'm not in the dojo much lately. While driving home between karate classes and picking up Mr. T from Boy Scout CPR training, I saw a package of Thomas English Muffins along the side of the road. Curious.
About a half mile later I passed a 5 # sack of potatoes on the center line of the road. Curiouser.
A mile later I drove by the fresh carcass of a huge raccoon. Roadkill eating with two sides--it doesn't get much better, does it?
Then the boys didn't finish their Chinese Doughnuts because we have to work on our hole. I put the package on the kitchen counter and put away the groceries. Then I went out to help Mr. D (now home from last night's loss) work on batting practice with the boys. I chased down the balls the boys missed and piled them behind the "backstop" while he worked the pitching machine. An idyllic moment--Midwest family playing baseball on a grassy (and dandelion-y) back yard while the sun sets. Mr. B was at bat and Mr. D asked me to toss one of the balls back to him. I threw the ball--smack--right into Mr. B's right cheek. He began to cry, I felt like a total jerk, all the fun of the evening was ruined just like that because Mama can't throw a ball for crap. Fortunately I throw like a girl and he didn't even have a bruise on his face when he woke up this morning. I'm still not in the running for Mom of the Year, people.
This morning I discovered the torn remains of a sugar-and-grease-coated paper bag with granulated sugar scattered all over the countertop and floor. Guess who loooooves Chinese Doughnuts? Yep, Violet our Semi-Stray Cat.
For a girl who doesn't get out much, I sure saw a lot of strange stuff yesterday.