Weekend Journal

I opened the front door on Saturday evening and was nearly blown over by the smell of meat on the grill.

Everybody was outside this weekend. Behind us, Brita and Shawn had the fit pit going. Their German bikers friends were in town and everybody was lit. Next door, Fred and his gang of fat, lesbian friends were squeezed around a table onto their porch eating ribs. The urchins next door were doing their usual random acts of violence until way after my kids had gone to bed. The quads down the block were out on their scooters, and Gregg tossed a ball with his daughter.

We spent nearly the whole weekend outside. On Saturday morning, I worked in the community garden, while getting the gossip on the local middle school from Maria. I got all the dirt on sexting and the mean girls who put red marker on a friend's white pants when she wasn't looking. Jonah will be sent to live with Tibetan monks next year. When I was gossiping and weeding, Steve and the boys were at the local fishing competition. The rest of the afternoon was in the backyard fixing up my own garden and grading papers. 

It was a near perfect weekend. And I really needed it. The past two weeks were so busy that by Friday afternoon, I had started taking public naps. Put me in a chair and I was out. We nearly missed Jonah's school play on Friday afternoon, because I accidentally fell asleep on the porch for forty minutes. I was in fetal position on a bench. If Steve hadn't called from the school to find out where we were, we would have missed the whole thing.

Between the holidays, birthdays, work and school vacations, I was way too overworked. There was also a dental appointment snuck in there.

Taking the boys to the dentist is always an adventure. On Wednesday, we walked into the main area which has four little reclining chairs in a row. Two other kids were there happily sucking on their bubble gum toothpaste. Jonah plopped himself down and chatted easily with the hygienist. Ian sat down waiting his turn. He really wanted to do a good job. But when the perky hygienist approached him with a pointy tool and the silver rotating toothbrush, he screamed, "I'M GOING TO DIE." That's when we were escorted into the private room with a door, the room of shame, so we wouldn't scare the other children. 

Meanwhile, the regular schedule resumes tomorrow and I'm looking forward to normality.