Archive for August, 2008
That’s what they’ll carve on my tombstone. Unless I get cremated or something. Then they’d have to carve it on some little plaque or urn or something, which could get tedious and complicated….
There I go off on a tangent again. Sorry about that.
ANYWAY…
A couple of weeks ago, Mom #1 handed me this cute little thing:
Which I thought was so sweet of her. But of course, it’s taken me forever to post this, so I guess I may be brilliante… but a little slow. Many apologies to Mom #1 for the delay in announcing this happy little web award.
But web awards, as frivolous as they may be, come with a price. And mine is to answer a little questionnaire and then pass this award on to various others that are also Brilliante. So, without further ado, here are my responses:
A. attached or single? Attached.
B. best friend? Shawna.
C. cake or pie? Cake. Preferrably chocolate. But I’ll take pretty much anything.
D. day of choice? Today.
E. essential item? Sleep.
F. favorite color? Green.
G. gummy bears or worms? Skittles.
H. hometown? We moved around so much, it’s really hard to pick one. I need RegularSis to weigh in with me on this one. What do you say, RegularSis? Princeton or Mendham?
I. favorite indulgence? Decaf Vanilla Latte.
J. January or July? July.
K. kids? They’re around here somewhere.
L. life isn’t complete without? A silent e at the end. Otherwise it would be “lif”. Which isn’t a word. (Can you tell where we’re at in our primer right now?)
M. marriage date? April 29. This is also our younger daughter’s birth date. So, eight years after we got married, at 10:35 pm, I delivered the baby and said to RegularDad “Happy Anniversary, honey. Here’s a baby. Top THAT.” Then he gave me a gorgeous diamond and sapphire and peridot ring and a beautiful wrist watch, and I learned that it’s best not to challenge RegularDad to a game of “Top That.” Because he’s a NATURAL at it.
N. number of brothers & sisters? One Supremely Awesome RegularSister. (Oh, we’ve got a half sister and a few half brothers floating around too, but they’re not REGULAR, if you know what I mean.)
O. oranges or apples? Yes, thank you. I’d love some.
P. phobias? My favorite is: ”Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia”: the fear of long words. (I swear, I’m not making that up.)
Q. quotes? “If you don’t hurry up and finish that candy, I’m taking that book away from you for the rest of the day.”
R. reasons to smile? The dishes are done, the kids are asleep after a happy day, and I’m just about to make myself some popcorn.
S. season of choice? Fall.
T. tag seven peeps! Will 7 of you who haven’t done this one yet please raise your hands? I now pronounce you tagged.
U. unknown fact about me? I can’t drive stick shift cars.
V. vegetable? Salad. If I don’t eat a salad every day, I feel all weird.
W. worst habits? Neglecting my blog, and forgetting to do these little web awards. I’m pretty sure Kitten gave me one months ago, and I never did post about it or put it in my sidebar. Sorry about that Kitten. I’ll go looking for it when we get back from vacation.
X. x-ray or ultrasound? This is the best we would do for “X”? Really? Why not ask “X-Box or Playstation?” Who wrote this thing?
Y. your favorite food? Eggs. Any time, anywhere, any way.
Z. zodiac sign? Capricorn.
Well, there it is. My alphabetical requirement to accept my Brilliante award. I tag the first seven of you who want to do this thing. Which is my lazy way of saying: Look, I’d type up everyone’s name and add all the links, but it’s late and Olympic BMX racing just came on, and I can’t type and eat popcorn at the same time.
Many thanks to Mom #1 for giving me this thing. And can I just say, for the record, how much I love visiting the Two Moms Homeschool blog? Because when I go there, I get SMOOTCHES from Mom #1. I love that. Some days, I go there just for the smootches. Sometimes, I go twice.
Where the hell did the summer go?
It’s like… OVER. Already.
Tomorrow, to give a final hurrah to the fun in our backyard, we’re having all those kids over again to swim in our little glorified wading pool.
Ask me why I’m up so late tonight.
It’s not because of the Olympics. It’s because one of the little girls asked if I’d make more pizza for the playdate, and how can I turn down a kid who wants my pizza? So, I’ve got dough rising right now. I know it’s almost midnight. But the kids REQUESTED my pizza. That’s a big deal for me, having been raised by a woman who refused to teach me to cook and then made fun of my inability to cook for years. All’s I’m sayin’ is: if someone requests a recipe that I made, I’ll move mountains [of laundry] to make it happen. So what if it’s almost midnight.
And well, yeah… I’m watching Olympic diving too. Or at least I was. But then they switched over to women’s beach volleyball. And I’m sorry, but… NO. I just can’t watch them in their little bikini’s. RegularDad was all “well, I’ve found MY sport!” when they aired the first preliminary matches. Which didn’t bother me at all, because I was way too busy checking out the men’s swim team to pay much attention to what he was drooling over. Besides, that’s what I look like in my bikini. The one I wear in my dreams. You know — the Hawaiian Island dreams…. What? I never told you about those?
But, I digress.
What I was meaning to post here tonight is that tomorrow is the last day we’ll have our little pool up for the summer. RegularDad’s taking it down on Friday because we’re leaving for a week down at the shore the next day. And I’d like to be able to sleep on our vacation. And if the pool’s still up and unattended for a week, I won’t sleep. Besides, it’s already getting cool in the evenings, and the water temperature is getting lower.
So, we invited our friends over for one last HURRAH in the pool. That’s tomorrow’s big plan. Then on Friday, while RegularDad’s taking down the pool and packing the van for our trip, I’m taking the kids to the park to meet a bunch of our Girl Scouting buddies. The kids’ll all play while us moms talk about the new Daisy troop we’re putting together this fall.
Yep, it’s official. I’m a Daisy Troop Leader. And the other two moms who started this thing with me quickly opted for the jobs like TREASURER and HANDLER OF ADMINISTRATIVE BULLSHIT and while I’m more than happy to pass those bucks to whoever will take them, it does sort of leave me sitting there in front of a group of kindergarteners who expect me to lead them as they develop valuable life skills. Things like CONFIDENCE. SELF-RESPECT. LEADERSHIP. SELF-RELIANCE.
Yep. They put me in charge of all that.
And they expect me to sing.
Man, I am SO screwed.
So after all that, we’ve got to rush home and pack up and head down to the shore for a week of BEING TOGETHER ON VACATION WITH NO OTHER EXTENDED FAMILY MEMBERS WITHIN A 50 MILE RADIUS. Do you have any idea how much I’m looking forward to this? (No offense, RegularSis.)
The worst thing about living so far away from the family for so long was that every vacation we took, it was sort of EXPECTED that we would either come East to see EVERYONE (which in RegularDad’s family consitutes something like one-third of the population of Passaic County, NJ, which makes seeing EVERYONE a logistical exercise in futility), or that we would invite them all out West to tour places like Yellowstone Park or fish the big waters of Montana and Utah. Nice, but really hard to pull off with all the Great Aunts in tow. I’m pretty sure the last vacation we ever took when it was JUST US was our honeymoon. And even on that one, I had to constantly pry my mother-in-law out of the trunk and tell her NO YOU CAN’T COME TO MEXICO WITH US.
So, we’ll be down the shore for a week (did ya hear my Jersey sneak in there? I said “down the shore”!) and then right when we get back— BOOM! It’s September, and the year kicks off just like that. Starting of course, with the Annual We’re Not Going Back To School So HA HA ALL OVER YOU!!!! Donut Fest, held at our local Dunkin’ Donuts, in which all the local homeschoolers gather together to stuff themselves full of donuts and coffee while watching all the public school busses go by.
Whew! Just typing all that out did me in. And still, I ask myself: where did the summer actually go? Because I swear just yesterday it was May and I was getting ready to go on my Mommy Needs A Break From The Insanity vacation in the Colorado mountains.
I’d say this was the fastest summer ever, but the problem is, I’m probably wrong. Once you turn 40, it all probably just gets faster. That’s why we stop riding roller coasters. Because with life moving this fast, who the hell needs ‘em?
Am I in a mood? Or am I in a mood?
Where are we going? And whose handbasket is this?
Published August 19, 2008 Stuff I Think About When I Should Be Sleeping 5 CommentsI love election years. Not because we’ll finally get a decent president (ya, like THAT will ever happen), but because things like this and this get made.
I majored in Political Science and History and college. I learned just enough to become jaded to the whole electoral process in general. The way elections happen nowadays, and then the way congress operates, it’s amazing we’re still here at all, if you ask me.
I supported Hillary for president. I voted for her in the primary. I didn’t automatically decide to love Obama the minute he clinched the race. In fact, I’m still irritated as all hell that he decided to run this time in the first place. He’s young. He could have spent more time gaining valuable experience as a senator and a statesman before jumping out for the big spot. And this country certainly wasn’t ready to decide between a black man and a woman for the presidency. I mean, seriously. I liked Hillary for the job because she has a hell of a lot more experience than Barrack does. People hate her, sure. But this ain’t no popularity contest. It’s a country falling all to shit. I don’t think Barack has any idea of what’s in store for him if/when he wins this thing. Hillary did. She got it. She’s been there.
But, after saying all that, in the end I’ll probably cast a vote for Barack anyway. Because McCain makes me nervous, and ANYTHING’S better than what we’ve got now.
But at least we get to laugh our asses off at things like what they’re up to over at the Onion while we watch the whole thing go down in flames play out on TV.
Many thanks to Katherine over at Our Report Card, for reminding me that the Onion is out there, and that they get it.
August is winding down, and even though we school pretty much all year long, I do take pains to make major switches in things right around the end of the summer. Also, during the LOOOOONG process of moving back to the East, I intentionally took about a year and a half to complete first grade. I knew, somehow, that we would need those extra months when things were hectic and the house was nothing but towers of cardboard boxes. And hasty take out. Frazzled Moments With Tantrummy Children. And there were so many days like that. Too many. I can’t bear to even think about it anymore. Egads! Why am I reliving it now, in this blog post, after it’s all over with?
Whoa. Flashback.
Okay, I’m over it.
Anyway. The point is, it’s been almost 2 years since I sat down and ordered up a whole big mess of curriculum, and can I just say: Ordering Curriculum Is Fun!
Man, I’ve GOT to get out more. Can you believe what I just wrote up there?
I am SUCH a homeschooler.
Anyway. I had a lot of fun looking through all the catalogs, and I exercised a fair amount of prudence so that when it came time to haul out the ole’ Visa card, RegularDad’s hair didn’t turn completely white. And the day I filed the Affidavit, boxes began arriving, and the girls began OOOOOH-ing and AAAAAHHHH-ing as I opened each box and let them pull out the books. And my 5-year-old practically cried for joy when she saw that she’d be doing HER VERY OWN SAXON MATH K MEETING BOOK this year.
They couldn’t wait to begin, of course. So we started our school year last week, and the girls are thoroughly enjoying themselves. Me? I’m exhausted. I’m learning how to handle teaching two kids now, and we’ve added a couple of new subjects to the schedule as well. I added a writing program to match our grammar program, and my 7-year-old requested Latin, even though I was planning on waiting one more year for it. So, our days feel a lot busier, academically speaking. It seems as if a big chunk of our school year this year will be learning how to take it easy and enjoy the work. Some subjects we’ll do every day; some we won’t. At this age, it’s all about immersion in the basics, and exposure to the extras.
Last week and this week, I’m focusing more on easing our way into a daily routine. Next week, we’ve got one more vacation to take: we’re spending a week at the beach. Then it’ll be September, and back to the regular grind — not just the academics, but all the extra-curricular stuff like Girl Scouting as well. It promises to be a wild and crazy year around here. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
For those of you who are curious about the actual list of what we’re using this year, click the RegularCurriculum tab at the top of the page. I’ve listed everything there for your convenient perusal. Because I know you’ve been perched on the edge of your chair, biting your nails, waiting for this information. Yeah. I know you. Don’t try to deny it.
You are SUCH a homeschooler.
Sometimes, you can’t help feeling glad that you missed the shot. That you had the wrong lens. That the picture came out blurry.
Sometimes, the screwed up shot is a gift.
Today, they would have been ten.
Published August 14, 2008 Parenting , Stuff I Think About When I Should Be Sleeping 13 CommentsToday marks the tenth anniversary of the premature birth and subsequent death of my first two children, identical twin boys.
And, I’m okay.
This is the first year that I didn’t BROOD over them for a month or so before this date. I saw the calendar turn to August, glanced at the number 14, and I was okay. And each day that passed, I realized that I was okay. I made plans to have friends come over, and the only date they could come was the 14th, and I marked it down on the calendar without a problem. The girls swam with their friends all afternoon, and I made pleasant conversation with the other mom, and it was all okay.
I miss them a lot. But it’s okay.
For those of you who don’t know the whole story, and want to know it, here it is in three parts: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. But be warned before you click. It’s a sad story, and it doesn’t end all that great.
For those of you who already know this one, just wanted to check in and tell you:
I’m okay.
Olympic fever.
Published August 13, 2008 Homeschooling , Stuff I Think About When I Should Be Sleeping 8 CommentsLast week, RegularDad and I were sitting in the living room, flicking through the channels, when we happened upon the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics. Oooooh, let’s watch, I said. Which is weird, because I never get into the Olympics. Seriously. The last time I remember ever actually watching them is when Mary Lou Retton won all those perfect 10′s, way back when.
But, for some reason, this year, I’m hooked. I can’t stop watching the damned Olympics. And, if I may paraphrase what it says up in the banner up there, I don’t have time for this. The laundry is piling up, I haven’t exercised since the games started, I’m eating way too much junk food way too late at night, I’m missing out on some sorely-needed sleep, and it’s starting to show.
Two weeks ago, I had no idea who Michael Phelps was. Now, I hang on the edge of my sofa for every race. Two nights ago I stayed up past midnight watching the swimming races. I collapsed into bed at 1:00 am, and when RegularDad’s alarm woke me up a few hours later, the first thing I heard was the garbage truck rolling up the street:
“Oh no!” I said to him. “I forgot to put out the trash.”
“It’s okay. That’s not the trash truck,” he said. “That’s the recycling truck.”
“No,” I said. “Recycling only comes on Monday.”
He looked at me funny and said, “It IS Monday…. How late were you up last night?”
The next night, I stayed up until 1:00 in the morning to see the final outcome of men’s gymnastics. I mean, I could not go to bed until I saw if they got the medal. Seriously.
Last night, we tuned in for the women’s gymnastic finals. We ate cheesy puffs and drank grape juice in honor of all the calories they were burning on the screen. We noted the obvious young-ness of the Chinese team a half hour BEFORE the TV announcers made reference to it. I mean, two of them looked to be maybe twelve years old. Thirteen, tops. And we also noticed how the American girls looked so… TOUGH. Like some sort of modern West Side Story gang of girls. And we also noted the overall BLONDE-NESS of the group. Oh sure, they had a token brunette and a token redhead, but other than that, they were WAY BLONDE. I know it must have been the pressure they were under, but they just looked… MEAN. I’m sure in real life, they’re very nice young ladies.
A little after 11:00, RegularDad had to go to bed. He has to get up early in the mornings and go to work. Me, I’ve got to get up early because the kids get up early (My Kingdom For Children Who Sleep Later Than 6:00 AM!!!!!) but it’s not like I’ve got to operate heavy machinery or anything. So, I stayed up to watch the end. The next morning, when RegularDad’s alarm went off, I woke up with a headache that promised to linger all day long.
“So, how’d it end?” RegularDad asked me.
“We got the silver,” I said. “We could have got the gold but one of the girls fell off the balance beam, and it all went down hill from there.”
“Oh. Which one fell?”
“The blonde one.”
“Um, yeah. Which blonde one?”
“You know… that mean-looking one.”
He almost asked “WHICH mean-looking one?” but then must have realized how quickly we were succumbing to a horrible, exhausted, olympic rendition of “Who’s On First?” and he went down to the kitchen to pour some coffee without another word.
He’s a wise man.
I got the kids through their schoolwork and suffered through today’s headache until about an hour ago when I broke down and took two Advil with a cup of caffeinated coffee. I’ll pay for the coffee later on tonight. But at least I’ll be wide awake when Michael Phelps wins another one.
Go team.
YAWN. YAY!
Affidavit Filing Day, or, Why I love the saints.
Published August 11, 2008 Homeschooling 11 CommentsSo, a couple of weeks ago, I filed the affidavit.
For those of you who don’t know, we live in Pennsylvania which is one of the stricter states in terms of homeschooling regulations. Back in Colorado, if you wanted to homeschool, all you had to do was write the district a letter telling them you were going to homeschool, and then administer the occasional standardized test. No big whoop.
Here, it’s like the GESTAPO STATE OF HOMESCHOOLING. You’ve got to file a signed and notarized affidavit that lists your educational objectives and all sorts of other such things. You’ve got to keep attendance records. You’ve got to keep lists of books you read. Then you’ve got to have an annual evaluation, and submit a portfolio of work to the district, not to mention all the usual standardized tests.
It sounds daunting. But it’s really not. There are enough people here that have been doing this for so many years and that have kindly made their information available to those of us who are just starting to do this little song-and-dance, that it’s actually quite easy to assemble the information. And the other quirky thing that makes this all more manageable is that Pennsylvania doesn’t legally require kids to actually attend school until they’re 8 years old. So, you don’t actually have to report on your kid until she’s 8. Or almost 8, in our case.
Anyway. So, having told you all of that, and having sat down one evening at the end of July and typed up (well, copied and pasted from the Internet and then tweaked appropriately) all the documents I needed to submit, I gritted my teeth and promised myself that I would wake up the next morning and get the affidavit filed.
So, the next morning, I cancelled regular school work. It was July, after all, and we were sort of on a bit of a break. Besides, dealing with administrative bullshit is one life lesson you don’t want your children to miss out on. What better way to prepare them for all those grueling hours at the DMV than dragging them along with you as you File the Affidavit?
I carefully mapquested the address of the school district’s administration offices. I then called them on the phone to confirm they were open for business before driving out there. I then fed the children a nice healthy lunch and made them use the bathroom. I combed their hair. Made sure their faces were clean. Made sure my 5-year-old was wearing underwear. The right way. I explained to them that these errands were probably going to be REALLY BORING but that they were VERY IMPORTANT and asked them to make the best of it.
Then I piled them into the car and drove to the business services office in our nearby shopping mall. There was a notary there. I knew this because we’d actually used this notary back when we were selling our house in Colorado last year. I felt secure in my knowledge of the location of this notary. I felt QUITE ON TOP OF THE SITUATION. But, of course, when we got to the notary’s office, there was a teenager behind the counter and a little sign posted on the wall explaining that the notary was so sorry to have missed us, but he’d just had some significant surgery two days earlier and would be out until the middle of August. The girl behind the counter told me that the bank up the way had a notary, and I thanked her and started to leave, but the girls tugged on my shirt and asked for a piece of candy from the little glass jar on the counter. I let them choose one each, and we left.
We drove up to the bank and walked in and I stood in line. The girls spotted a water cooler with these little teeny conical paper cups and became INSTANTLY THIRSTY, so I let them go get a drink each. A few minutes later, a teller opened up and I stepped to the counter and asked if they had a notary. The teller hemmed and hawed and said, “wait… I think she’s off today.” My face fell a bit and then she said, “you could come back tomorrow. Or you could just leave it here and pick it up tomorrow.” Giant klaxon alarm bells went off in my head. It took me weeks to actually get this ready. I wasn’t ready to just hand it over to a bank teller. Besides, I was pretty sure the reason you got a notary in the first place was so that your own signature could be witnessed. While I was thinking all these thoughts, the woman said: “Are you a bank member?” I said no, and she said, “Oh, well… our notary is for bank members only. Sorry.” I gathered my now slightly damp children and left the building.
We drove home so I could look up a notary in the phone book. There was a notary nearby our house. I’d seen his sign many times, driving by, but after two failures I was determined to call first and make sure he was there. And not in surgery. And that membership in something wasn’t required. So, I looked up notaries in my local phone book and found one listing for my town other than the dude having surgery. That had to be the guy. I called him up and he said to come on down. So, we got back in the car and drove to this guy’s house. He ran a little insurance business out of his converted garage, it seemed.
It turns out that this wasn’t the guy I’d called. This was some other guy. The address wasn’t the right one. But, dammit, he had a sign out front that said NOTARY, so I knocked and waited. And knocked again. And eventually, this guy came to the door and opened it and waved us in.
“I need something notarized,” I told him. “Are you available?”
“Sure, sure,” he said. “I’m on the phone, though. Just hang on a sec.”
So, we waited. And eventually, he hung up. And I pulled out my little (slightly crumpled now) affidavit, and he watched me sign it, and then he did his notary-thing and wrote it up in his book, and then I said, “Do I owe you anything?” and he said, “Yes. Five dollars.” And I pulled out my VISA card and he said, “Oh, I don’t take credit cards.”
I had no cash on me. I took his business card and promised to mail him a check. And we left. Outside, the sky was darkening quite a bit. A pretty big thunderstorm was on the way, the kids were getting squirmy, and I now owed some guy five bucks. But I pressed on. I was determined to get this thing DONE.
We drove across town, going a way I hadn’t gone before, and that’s how I found the shrine. (I know this post is already long, but bear with me as I explain about the shrine.)
When RegularDad’s mom was little and they’d all just moved to America after World War II, her mother used to take all the kids to this shrine in eastern Pennsylvania. It’s the Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa, and RegularDad’s family being old world Catholics from Russia and Poland, they all liked to go there from time to time. And what a funny coincidence it was that we ended up moving to practically the same exact town where this shrine is, what, like thirty years later? Now, when RegularDad’s grandmother comes to visit her great-granddaughters, she always makes sure to visit the shrine while she’s in town here, just like she used to all those years ago, when being a great-grandmother was the furthest thing from her mind. So, for a year and a half now, I’d been hearing about the shrine, and how wild it was that we lived so close to it, but I’d never been there myself, and really had no idea where it was, and I’d been thinking in the back of my mind that at some point I should figure this out and go see it, because it really is a cool coincidence, and all the sudden, as I was driving along with my BY-GOD, I-FINALLY-GOT-IT-NOTARIZED affidavit, I saw this golden statue of a robed woman perched at the top of a pillar, shining in the sky underneath these dark storm clouds, and just like that, I’d found the shrine.
I’m sure there’s a saint I could have prayed to (there’s a saint for EVERYTHING after all), but I’m not up on my saints, and I was still focused on filing that little piece of paper, so I told the girls: “Look, there’s the shrine that Grandma used to go to when she was little!” and we kept going. I cocked an eyebrow at the sky and said a mental thanks, and called it good.
A few minutes later, we arrived at the district offices. We raced inside under the first roars of thunder and I handed the affidavit to the woman behind the desk. And as I handed it to her, I realized that I hadn’t made a copy of it. I asked if she could do that for me, and she smiled and said, “sure”. Then she date-stamped it and opened the closet door behind her where they keep their copier and set it on the glass. Then she pushed a button, and the machine coughed and choked and then tried to spit out a chewed-up wad of paper. “Oh, it’s jammed,” she said. “Hang on. I’m not the person who usually works this desk. I’m just filling in. Let me go find someone.” She came back a minute later with another woman and the two of them began inspecting the machine. “She’s here to file her homeschooling affidavit,” the first woman said to the second woman. “Oh.” said the second woman.
Meanwhile, the kids were inspecting the various things in the reception area. There were statues of birds of prey on a low shelf. “Look, Mommy!” said my 5-year-old, pointing at them. “Yes, I see,” I said to her. “That’s a bald eagle. It’s got a white head. Remember, like what we saw at the zoo?”
My 7-year-old was inspecting a wall map of the county. “Can you find the Delaware River?” I said to her.
Inwardly, I cringed and admonished myself to STOP TEACHING THE CHILDREN IN FRONT OF THE DISTRICT ADMINISTRATORS. One of them, after all, wasn’t even a regular employee. And the probable truth of it was, neither one of them would have been interested. Why was I bothering? It took every ounce of self-restraint to not casually ask my 7-year-old if she was excited about beginning Latin this year.
EVERY. OUNCE.
Finally, they got the copier working. They handed me my copy, wished us good luck, and we left. I’m pretty sure I threw in one more educational moment for everyone’s benefit, but it’s all a merciful blur now. We drove home and managed to get inside before the downpour began.
And for two weeks, nothing much happened. I kept waiting for Someone In Authority to call and tell me I’d done it wrong. But all that happened really was that the new curriculum I’d ordered for the upcoming year arrived in about three different shipments, and the girls drooled over all of it and BEGGED me to start school early. PLEASE, MOM??????????????? OH PULLLLLLEEEEEEASE?????
So, we did.
And two days ago, I received in the mail, a letter from the district, telling me that my homeschooling program has been approved (which I thought was quaint, because I wasn’t exactly LOOKING for their approval when I went on that particular little pilgrimage) and also offering up various services at our local public school, should I so desire any of them. Which I do not.
So. It’s official, now, I guess. They know we homeschool. And I know where the shrine is. And I still owe some dude five bucks.
But dammit, I got my affidavit filed.
