I realized yesterday at 5 p.m. as I was standing at the deli counter in Kroger waiting on some sliced roast beef that I had not been on the computer all day. That's a rare day. A good day. Email went unseen for hours. Facebook was all new when I finally looked at it later.
Michael hates that I comment about stuff on Facebook all the time. He never comments on anything. I want to participate in the conversation. I want to be heard. It's my inner child always seeking attention. Or maybe I am just a busybody. Whatever.
I had my book group yesterday. I love book group. We are all women, all between 50-65 years old. The group is open to men, but they never come more than once. We talked about that yesterday. We are all educated, opinionated, outspoken women, and we are not shy. We are all "chiefs" in the group; no "indians" - I put quotes because I know that's not politically correct but so be it. Mom always talks about chiefs and indians and since she is part Cherokee, she has the right.
I had suggested the book, The House on Tradd Street. I was dying to hear what everyone said.
Nobody liked it.
Dang. I read it about 3 years ago. As everyone talked, I remembered stuff. Like, oh yeah, the main character was rather weird and immature. Oh yeah, there was some plot points that didn't make sense. Hmmm...
One lady, not a writer but who used to be a fact checker at a newspaper, made a list of all the inacccuracies in the book. Like, the fact the author wrote that hibiscus "trailed." It doesn't trail. Maybe bougainville would trail. I don't know diddly about tropical plants so I didn't notice the hibiscus acting weird. She also noticed something said about putting stuff in the trunk of a porche, in the rear of the car. She thought that was wrong, so she called a Porsche dealership! They said you only put stuff in the rear of the SUV. Now, that's going a little too far. She is retired though.
I am not smart enough to let stuff like that bother me. I don't notice stuff like that. Now, if they said something about an old Mazda or Toyota, that I might notice. Or if they discussed philodendrons, I could fact check. but high end stuff? Nope.
Michael and I spent most of the evening discussing the tattoos he wants to get when he turns 18 next summer. I don't like tattoos. They freak me out. Just the thought of ink embedded in skin freaks me out. ACK. Plus, they are so permanent. Hard to remove. Not like the 3 earrings he has now - which he removed when my brother was here, BTW. Nope tats are permanent, for most folks.
I told him he cannot have ANY visible tats except my name [very small] or something on his short arm. People who have had limbs amputated feel better about it if they decorate their prosthetic or their stump [I hate that word]. I don't know why, but so be it. We talked about his short arm being a shark, or a cannon.
Just before bed, he started negotiating. He asked if he makes all A's and B's this semester, could he get a tattoo before he turned 18, like right when school lets out, in May. We debated that for a while.
We talked about college. He doesn't want to go.I keep trying to get him to understand that he will have more choices in life if he goes. I also make the argument that college is fun, unlike high school. He is wavering, but unconvinced.
The hard part is that he fears doing hard things. Studying every day is hard. He already resents spending 6 hours a day in school. I told him if he doesn't step up his game, he will have a very hard time keeping up his grades. At least we were able to discuss it rationally, without anger. That's good.
Tomorrow is a school holiday. YAY.
Today, we have a home visit by a lady from Basset Hound Rescue of Georgia. I was sort of amazed when she called the other day but then I remembered being told yes, they do home visits. Good idea.
Lola is our queen and we are her minions. Lola runs the house. She sits and naps on the furniture, the beds, wherever she likes. She eats everything. Sometimes she even deigns to eat dog food. She is adored and spoiled. She is walked multiple times a day.
Why have a pet, except to love and spoil them?