This week Mr. T began cross country. It's a new sport for him, a fresh attempt at finding his niche. His first meet yesterday went fairly well--he came in among the first half of the runners, a bit better than most of his team, but by no means the fastest. We noted his time and remarked that now he can work to beat that at his next meet. He seemed pleased with how things went and enjoyed the experience. The rest of Team Testosterone was chuffed that there wasn't a clearly marked concessions stand--what's the point of going to a sporting event if you can't bleed your mom's wallet dry?
I've got BUSHELS of tomatoes. I offered some to TB, who laughed and said his mom had asked if I wanted any of HERS. In particular, I have scads of these wonderful heirloom Roma tomatoes. Fortunately, I also worked out a scratch sauce recipe everyone will eat without complaint.
We schlepped all the supplies to school and I went on my usual tirade about why a teacher might possibly require 20 boxes of gallon-sized plastic baggies, 20 boxes of sandwich-sized plastic baggies and 20 boxes of quart-sized plastic baggies. I also ranted about the damn sanitizing wipes. It might have gone a bit like this: Back when I taught high school I had 5 sections of 25 students trek through my classroom EVERY SINGLE DAY and do you want to know how sick and filthy the desks got? They didn't. Back in my day we were TOUGH and built up a RESISTANCE to germs and bacteria. Y'all are WEAK I tell you. WEAK and CODDLED.
That said, it does seem unbelievable that half of what I spend on "School Supplies" is technically categorized as "Food Storage" and "Cleaning."
Cleaned another closet, hauled another pile of stuff to the basement. I honestly didn't expect to bring a van-load to the thrift shop anytime soon, but there you have it.
The empty chair jokes on the internet slay me.
I'm kind of looking forward to watching TV soon because I have a healthy stack of sewing/mending projects to attack. We're shuffling karate pants because Team Testosterone keeps getting longer legs. Mr. G's an excellent seam ripper, but I have to re-stitch all the stars to the new pants. He's asking for more stars to rip off clothes, says it was a fun job.
Finally, my book is at a library--how cool is that?