The Crab Chronicles

Party Rehash

Here in Hot-Lanta it's an almost perfect weather day - 72 and sunny. I went outside a few minutes ago and picked half a dozen ripe tomatoes off the vine. I may have fresh tomatoes at Thanksgiving, if I can just remember to water.

Michael is riding his bike. I told him he couldn't NOT be outside on a beautiful afternoon like today.

Last night Rosie, one of the girls at the party, made the cutest remarks. She and her family have been wonderful neighbors for over 5 years. While the other kids were still running around outside, she came in and gasped when she saw all the food, and was just delighted with everything. I fixed her a cup of punch [white grape juice and gingerale] and she said "This is SO good!" A little later I was walking through the living room and she said with great enthusiasm, "I LIKE your idea of hospitality!" A bit later, the kids were all in the dining room, boys at one end, girls at the other, and nobody was talking. They were very self-consciously nibbling. They're all friends but it was silent - typical for 13-14 year olds. Finally Rosie [the youngest, at 12] said "OK! Just talk already! Let's liven things up!"

She volunteered to be mummified. The boy mummy had the misfortune of Mike and Colton forgetting air holes! Poor Clay was hollering HELP! I can't breathe! and I told Mike to punch a hole where his mouth was. Yikes. Who knew Charmin was so sturdy?!?

We got up and made it to Sunday school, but I didn't insist on church. I am having to bribe Mike with french toast every Sunday just to get him to go to Sunday School. I only insist on church about once a month.

Afterwards, we ran up to Goodwill, and as always, luck was with us. Next week is Mike's baptism. He tried on several suits and none of them fit. So suits are not feasible right now. He's between boy's and men's sizes. However, we found him a beautiful navy and white cotton sweater, and some nice black leather high top tennis shoes. So he's going to look fine next week for his baptism.

We then went to Publix for a few more groceries. I still forgot 3 important items. I am purely scatterbrained right now.

I feel very encouraged about Alesia. I was amazed at how normal she was last night.

I have to report for jury duty tomorrow morning at 8:15. I will need to leave the house at 7:30, right after I wake up Michael. Looking forward to that like a root canal.

Halloween Eve Party

It's been an incredibly long day and I am pooped, but I thought I'd post some photos from the Halloween Party. It was a small gathering but everyone clearly had a good time. Mike had 3 girls and 2 boys.

Here's part of the group outside, Clay, Colton, Rosie and Cecilia.

The three guys - it amused me that Colton and Clay's feet are enormous, compared to Michael's. I imagine they are busily growing into those feet.

The food table. The kids ran around the yard and played for an hour and a half, then came inside to eat. I served chips, dip, chips & salsa, nuts, Reese's pieces, and some more grownup food - hot artichoke dip, cheese and crackers, Little Smokies in BBQ sauce, sliced apples and dip. All the prepared foods disappeared pretty quickly. Oh - and I made pumpkin cupcakes with green cream cheese icing.

The girls' dad Tom, and baby brother William, who is so adorable -

Among other games, we had a mummy making contest -

And Alesia showed up with a new boyfriend. I was SO impressed with this young man - he's several years older than her, works and goes to college, and has a very cute, outgoing personality. Alesia was more relaxed and happy than I've seen her in a long time. Hallelujah!

Jobs and Jeopardy

I have become obsessed with Craigslist and indeed.com - I check both sites many times a day. I usually only find one or two jobs to apply to each day, but I have to jump on those sites and compulsively check.

I applied for a job this morning, and had composed the letter and everything before I realized the ad was posted on Wednesday. So they've probably gotten 200 resumes by now and mine won't even be read. Here's how bad the job market is - I've had employers tell me after they've been inundated with resumes and have 500 of them jamming their email, they just cut off the process arbitratily - they look at, say, the first 100 resumes and don't bother with the rest of them. That blows my mind.

I saw an ad today for an administrative assistant, and there was a very long list of duties. I am almost sure this ad was not placed by an American. This wonder-woman [or man] has to know every computer program in the world, have world class diplomacy skills, be willing to work overtime, and guess what the pay is?!? Just guess. OK, it's $150 a week

Dang, Dude! I make more than that from unemployment!

What really annoys the living daylights out of me are the placement firms that keep placing the same ads over and over. I contact the firm, only to be told it's the same company they've been representing for two months. Grrr....

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Spent most of the day cleaning house and making food for the Halloween party tomorrow night. It will be a very small party, but I want everyone to have a great time. Michael is upset because the Scary Movie we ordered from Netflix won't get here on time to show tomorrow night. So I may break down and go to the Kroger where they have Red box movies tomorrow, and see what we can find. I don't allow horror movies in my house, ever, so his choices will be limited...

I have started watching Jeopardy every night at 7:30. I think I need it, psychologically. I feel like a moron when I'm trolling the job ads, but when I watch Jeopardy and know at least 3 out of 4 questions, I can regain some small sense of my self worth. I totally ran the Military History category tonight. I know a LOT about that subject, because my dad was a military history buff. I've seen the movies Patton and MacArthur about 10 times. I know more about WWII than most teachers.

Does that do me any good in the real world? Nope. It's just nice to say I can rock a Jeopardy category...

I find myself dreaming of saying these words: "Let's make it a true daily double, Alex."

Indeed.

A Milestone

There's a strange perception among some people that if you adopt a "special needs" child you are letting yourself in for heartbreak, a ton of extra work, a world of worry, etc. As the mother of two special needs kids, I have to say my son's limb difference is such a non-issue. Alesia has PTSD from early trauma, which is not obvious of course, but is much harder to manage.

Michael clipped his own fingernails last night. May not sound like a big deal, but try clipping your own nails without using both hands. He used my big toenail clippers and balanced them on his chest with his short arm, and just got it done. He also filed his nails, by holding the file and rubbing his nail over it. I was reading to him at the time, and I was going to stop and clip his nails, but he wanted me to read. I didn't want to make a big deal out of his accomplishment, but it IS a big deal. That particular chore was the last one that he couldn't do on his own, up until last night.

What made me decide to do this little post was this post from my friend Stephanie. Her son adopted from Serbia has a limb difference, but he's a smart, good kid, and his special need is much less of an issue that her other kids' special needs. Bless Stephanie for talking so honestly about her kids' issues.

I belong to a Yahoo group for adoptive parents of children with limb differences. Very often a new parent will sign up and post something saying "I am thinking of adopting a child with one arm/missing foot/ missing fingers, etc. and they are apprehensive, worried about how they will handle things. All of us try and reassure the potential parents that a limb difference is just no big deal. It truly isn't. Kids adapt.

It's a HUGE group. Most of the children are Asian, but not all. It's the most congenial group I belong to, and I'm in several Yahoo groups. Parents are supportive of one another. Nobody rants, raves, or flames. The general consensus is we are so blessed to be parents of our beautiful kids.

After he woke up this morning, Michael came and put his arms around me. He just wanted to be held for a moment. He is the most loving child.

My son's limb difference is just one tiny part of who he is, and it doesn't define him. I wish that anyone who has a heart for adoption could spend some time with him, and then they'd understand what a joy it is to parent a child with a "special need." The only real need for most of these kids is a loving home...

This was the first time I met Michael. I knew immediately my intuition had been correct and he was my son.

The photo below was from last summer when we were on vacation. What a difference in 3 years!

Strange Encounters

Many years ago I made the stupid mistake of perusing Classmates, and I've paid for it ever since. They send me emails constantly asking if I remember so-and-so from high school. Well, there were something like 500 people in my high shcool graduating class so no, chances are I don't remember that person.

Everyone I ever knew from third grade forward I have already friended on Facebook, anyway!

Except two women, and Facebook keeps asking me if I don't want to friend them?!? Well, no. I don't care if we have 50 friends in common. One of them played a mean trick on me in 6th grade and I still get ticked off every time I see her smiling face in her profile photo. The other one was a close friend until about 7 years ago, and then she went wacko and quit talking to me for reasons I still cannot fathom.

That's the irritating thing about Facebook. I check it a few times a day, just out of boredom, but it's not my life. I like to play Farmville. I like to see what everyone's doing. Occasionally, I ask for advice. That's about it.

Like today I asked about games the kids can play at Mike's Halloween party on Saturday. I got some good suggestions, and some weird ones. It's hard to know what a bunch of 12-14 year olds will want to do. They're not little kids. They aren't like teenagers just yet either. They're Tweens. I hate that term, but there it is.

Unlike many mothers, I really really don't want my son playing outside at night. There is a creek in the backyard and we've seen water moccasins in it. I don't want to take a chance on some child getting bitten. I also don't want the kids running all over the place on a scavenger hunt. I just don't think you should bother your neighbors like that. I remember doing a scavenger hunt when I was in 8th grade and I remember distinctly feeling fearful, knocking on the doors of strangers. I'm sorry, but I don't think that's safe. I'm OK with the kids kicking a ball around, or playing on the trampoline, but leaving our yard makes me nervous.

I went to Walmart with Michael after school today, because the Walmart fairies have just turned our ordinary Walmart into a Superstore. I was pleasantly shocked that I could get all the party food there.

Next time I am bored, I am going to go there and just people watch. We saw some doozies today. Not as interesting as the People of Walmart, but interesting.

I kept having to try and avoid colliding into a linebacker-proportioned black lady talking on the cell phone but not watching where she was walking. I don't know why she was in there because she had no merchandise and wasn't even looking at merchandise. There was also a blonde black lady who had on skintight denim shorts and furry boots. It was 80 degrees outside today. She had a toddler with her. I wanted to snatch the child and run. There was a family of daddy whose pants were sagging on his butt so bad I couldn't believe he could walk, along with mama who looked like, well, a streetwalker, with a lot of metal in her face though, and two cute kids - there again, I wanted to call DFACS.

Then in the candy aisle there were three teenaged girls who obviously go to catholic school because they had on the plaid skirts and white blouses, but they all talked like they were from California, and they looked sort of like they stepped out of a video shoot for some sleazy movie called Naughty Schoolgirls or something.. hmmm....

But hey, at least we didn't encounter any criminals running through the store. Good thing, because unlike my brother I don't carry concealed. My plan in the event of being taken hostage by a criminal is to cry and wet my pants. I have those skills.

I am trying to find my son a blue blazer to wear when he gets baptized next weekend. We go to a very informal little church but I want him to look nice for once. (I just hemmed his black dress pants today. Sewing is like riding a bike, I never lose that skill. I can't ride a bike any more, though..) I can't afford to just go buy one. I am surveying my local friends and even emailed some of my cousins, in hopes of finding a decent blazer some teenager has outgrown. Right now Mike is 5'3 and weighs about 110, so he wears small men's clothes. I don't want to just get something at Goodwill because I don't be able to wash it. I always wash everything I get at Goodwill - I am a third generation germaphobe...

Oh, BTW, in the Episcopal church we don't do full immersion baptism, we sprinkle.

Stay tuned for more crab adventures tomorrow.

Glove Talk and Veggie Talk

Here's a sentence you will rarely see here: it poured rain all afternoon and I spent more than 90 minutes driving around in it. I HATE driving in rain. Hate particularly driving on the interstate in rain. Add in a tornado watch, rush hour traffic, and a cranky teenager, and you get some real fun.

Thank God I have lived here long enough to learn back roads so I don't have to just sit on the interstate waiting for cars to crawl along I-285, while I worry that my bladder will explode before I can make it to a bathroom. Just the sight of cars sitting on the interstate in pouring rain will suddenly make my bladder seize up and I will have to pee no matter how little I've had to drink that day.

Michael's prosthetic needed a new "glove" - this is the part that makes it look sort of like a real hand, and not something out of a Terminator movie [see below - this is Mike's actual prosthetic, when brand new]. Mike's glove had a ripped place, and various people [cough cough] at school had colored in the fingernails and drawn "tatoos" on it. So it was looking pretty gross. [I like that juxtaposition of "pretty" and "gross" - hang on a moment while I slap my inner English major...]

He was thrilled to be leaving school at 1:30. He was not so thrilled to sit around and wait for almost an hour before we saw anyone at the prosthetic clinic. Then another 20 minutes before we got the new glove. However, it's worth it, just so I don't have to look at that messy glove any more.

VEGETABLE TALK

I know I've spoken here before about my love of squash, and by extension nearly all root vegetables. Therefore, I was beyond thrilled to see this post on Pioneer Woman about spaghetti squash, my new favorite squash. Then I was dismayed to see she put maple syrup on it. NOOOOOOOO! my brain screamed. It's like the whole nightmare of trying to find a butternut squash recipe that isn't like sweet potato casserole - my only reaction to that is YUCK. now, this recipe from Epicurious sounds like it might be tasty. I have a flourishing sage plant in the back patio; well, if it hasn't drowned in all this rain...

Here in the south, if you don't totally neglect your gardens, you can get fresh produce out of the yard until mid November, if the weather cooperates. We still haven't had a hard frost yet.  So I have suddenly found myself with a bumper crop of green tomatoes. I decided rather than bite my nails waiting for the insipid autumn sun to ripen them, to just bring those bad boys inside. So the 'maters are on the windowsill in the kitchen ripening, and the bigger ones are on the dining room table. My dining room tables gets tons of sunshine every morning.

I have a beautiful cauliflower in the fridge and I am going to boil that thing on the stove tomorrow until it's tender, and then make my favorite cauliflower dish. I make a basic white sauce, then add in LOTS of grated cheese and garlic. I use fresh garlic if I have the energy, otherwise garlic powder. Then I like to take my Braun hand blender [my favorite appliance] and puree the mixture. This makes it like mashed potatoes.

Whenever my teeth fall out of my head, when I am REALLY old - like over 55 - I will have no trouble eating, because I already like my vegetables incredibly soft and pureed. I could make a fortune marketing my delicious veggie purees to old folks homes. Hmmm.... there's a revenue idea. Oh wait - old folks often have blunted taste buds, I hear. Dang. Another idea down the drain...

I digressed.

I tried out a new recipe.

PORK CHOPS SUPREME

4 boneless pork chops or cubed pork steaks
1 box Stovetop Stuffing [for chicken]
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
4 tablespoons butter
1 can Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup
1 cup sour cream

Make the Stove Top stuffing with chicken broth, according to the directions on the box, then spread it on the bottom of a corning ware casserole dish - or any dish you can cover. Next, salt and pepper 4 pork chops and brown them in some olive oil and butter, and minced onion if you like. Put the chops  on top of the stuffing. Next, mix the Campbell's cream of mushroom soup with about the sour cream, then put that in the pork chop pan and heat it, stirring it until it looks like gravy. Pour it over the top of the chops and bake it with the lid on at 300 for an hour.

We ate it with a side dish of fruit, which was yummy.

It was delicious. Michael had an entire chop and some stuffing and said "Good chicken!" He was skeptical when I told him it was pork - I always use very lean pork. You could use chicken, too.

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Mother did an interesting post over at her blog. Check it out.

Stop and Look Around

There's an email that comes around occasionally stating things like "the kids graduating from high school have never lived in a world without cell phones/microwave ovens/cable TV..." etc. etc. [For a horrifyingly cynical but funny take on this look here.] I am astounded by that, but it really hit home in the last couple of days.

Michael is one of the brightest kids I know, and I tell him that all the time. I always tell him he has a Ferrari brain and he's driving it like a beat up old VW.

We were watching Cast Away, the terrific movie about a Fed-X executive who gets stranded on a desert island. There is a scene with him answering a pager. I asked Michael if he knew what a pager was, and he said nope. I explained it. I was sitting there feeling sort of disjointed, remembering that when I moved to Atlanta in 1993 pagers were still very common. I would have to subpoena police officers for trial sometimes and I'd always have a pager number. Only rich people had cell phones.

My first cell phone, that I kept for years, was never used except in the car, and it plugged into the cigarette lighter. It was simply for emergencies.I never got one to carry around with me until after 9/11, and only because my mother insisted. I kept the same cell phone for 5 years after I adopted Alesia. My kids were embarrassed every time I took it out.

Of course, that's my new hobby: embarrassing my kids. It makes getting old a little more bearable.

When Michael tried on his new skinny jeans yesterday they were riding on his hips. I started to tell him to pull his pants up, but that phrase is useless. I was looking at them later, while he was getting ready for bed. They were intentionally MADE to ride low on the hips, according to the label. Good Lord. I was watching a program on HGTV while I ate lunch the other day and the man hunting for a vacation house wore his pants at his waist with his shirt tucked in. It looked BIZARRE to me. Just freaky weird. Pants at your WAIST?! What a dork. Then I caught myself and wanted to slap myself. Yikes.

We were watching the Today show this morning during breakfast and they were interviewing the cast of Back to the Future, and something was said about Ronald Reagan liking the movie. Michael said "Who's Ronald Reagan?" I nearly choked on my oatmeal. Mom handled it. I flashed back to the 1980's and all the fights I had with my dad because he LOVED Reagan and I couldn't stand him. Reagan refused to push for funding research during the first years of the AIDS crisis, as this article explains. Since I was a Drama major and always involved in music I had many gay friends. It's funny how just mentioning Reagan's name brought back that turbulent period of time.

Sometimes I feel like an ARTIFACT since I was born in 1962. It was the last century. OMG! My baby pictures are in black and white. I remember having a TV that weighed as much as an elephant. I sat in Mom's lap in the car. I couldn't wear pants to school until 5th grade. Many of the folks I graduated from high school with are now GRANDPARENTS!

In the words of the immortal Ferris Bueller [incidentally, played by Matthew Broderick, born in 1962]:

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

Rain Day

I awoke this morning to a blessed sound - rain, coming down in buckets. We have not had hardly any rain in weeks. My roses and hydrangeas are loving it. My Halloween decorations survived - they were a bit under shelter but not real sturdy.

It's been an uneventful day.

I had to go to Kroger and pick up a prescription I had forgotten about yesterday, and I dashed in the new AJWright to see what they had in the way of pants for Michael. To my shock, they had skinny jeans, size 29 waist. That's his size - and Levi's no less, for less than $20. I was delighted. Michael was thrilled - he has been wanting some skinny jeans. He looks so cute in them

Michael still resents having to wear his glasses all the time. He keeps taking them off. I emailed all his teachers today and said PLEASE fuss if you see him not wearing his glasses. His eyes have got to adjust. I told them to email me if he isn't wearing his glasses. Well wouldn't you know it, he got in the car after school saying he had accidentally poked himself in the eye with a pencil today! "Uh huh," I nodded, "That was God's way of saying you should've been wearing your glasses, Dude!"

I made a batch of brownies this afternoon to share with the neighbors. I didn't realize we were low on white sugar, so I substituted some brown sugar. Strangely enough, the brownies were not as flavorful as usual. However, Michael told Mother, when she asked him if he thought they were ok - "Yes, Granny, even when they don't turn out perfectly, Mom's brownies are way better than anyone else's!" Way to go, kiddo!

PRAYER NEEDS

I've been in contact with Alesia, and I have some reason to be cautiously optimistic that she is getting her act together. Please pray, though. She still has a lot of growing up to do.

My friend Cindy B lost her dad last night. I just sat and cried when I read that. I never met him, but Cindy's wonderful blog made me feel as if I knew him.

Got to thinking about my dad, who was also born in 1930. Here he is with his two brothers. Dad, on the right, was the "short" one - at 6'0. I like to think they are all up in heaven, having a beer and telling stories...

Personal Stories

Today was probably the best Sunday School class I have ever attended, by far. Michael and I were running late and I went barreling into the parish hall and stopped in astonishment. Our usual 8-12 people had grown and there were probably 30 people sitting there, chairs in a giant circle. I had completely forgotten, but we were starting a new program.

My church is so tiny, all the adults just gather in the parish hall for Sunday School. Breaking down into smaller groups would be sort of silly. So we do "seminars" sort of, for a few weeks or months.

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the founding of the church. So it's the Jubilee year, and Sunday School reflects that. For the next several Sundays, in class, different parishioners are sharing their stories about how St. Bede's has transformed their lives. Today, we heard from 3 people who have been members of the church for a long time.

There is something fascinating and compelling about sitting in a group and listening to people tell stories of important events in their lives. The whole experience was fascinating.

The first speaker, I'll call Mr. S, is from South Carolina originally, and I could tell from his accent. He is 88 years old, and sharp as a tack. He told about living through the Depression and working very hard to make his own money for college, starting at 12 years old, delivering newspapers. He had no religious instruction as a child, but found God when he was in the Pacific in World War II, and his ship nearly sunk. Back then, servicemen were given a tiny New Testament, small enough to fit easily in their pocket. He started reading it, found comfort, and started his spiritual journey. When he got home, after 4 years at war, his girlfriend had waited for him and they got married. She was a staunch Episcopalian and steered him the same way. He spoke about the early days of the church, but the personal part of his story was most fascinating. At one point he choked up, talking about his ordeal in the Pacific.

The other two speakers were also very impressive, but neither was quite as interesting as Mr. S, in my book.

Our handout contained a number of interesting quotes, but here is one that has resonated with me all day. It's from Alice Walker, who wrote The Color Purple:

Tell the truth, have you ever found God in a church? I never did. I just found a bunch of folks hoping for him to show. Any God I ever felt in church I brought in with me. And I think all the other folks did too. They come to church to share God, not find God.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, except for Michael and Colton's antics late this afternoon. I won't go into details, but they were horsing around at one of the neighbor's houses, and Michael got chewed out.

13, 14, or 15 are all hard ages. You're not a kid, but you're not an adult either. You don't have a rule book for how to act. I remember getting into some huge disputes in those years. I was frustrated and at loose ends. I couldn't wait to grow up.

On a completely different note, I have a feeling of optimism about this week, and my job situation. Y'all pray for me, or keep praying...

Accents and Tantrums

Alternated between being busy and lazy today, but the latter part of the day was really busy. Then we had an episode of drama on the tennis courts, worthy of a reality TV show. Yikes.

Mike and I went to the BB&B sale at the church. They had some terrific bargains. They also had a silent auction going on in the parish hall, with many gift cards on auction, and some nifty art objects. Outside, they allowed some artist and craftspeople to set up, although I assume they paid something to the church. They had really nice stuff in the outside booths, but it wasn't cheap. I picked up a necklace thinking about Mother for Christmas, but it was $45. Wow. All I found I couldn't live without was a wooden trivet in the shape of a crab, for $1.50. I kind of collect crab things now.

Michael and I went for a ride, and talked. With the weather nice and the leaves starting to turn, it's good weather for cruising around a bit. Mike asked me the funniest question. He asked me if I could teach him how to talk like he's from New Jersey. He had been watching this clip, of comedian Mike Marino, which we all thought was hysterical. I explained that here in the SOUTH, not too many folks talk like that. He thinks it's very cool. I said OK, I will try and teach you a little Jersey, kiddo. I looked at him and lowered my voice and said "How you doin'?!" and he smiled. "I can't do that." I sighed. "Sure you can, Michael, listen and imitate me - how you doin?" I tried it several times. He wouldn't even attempt it. I tried explaining that I'm so good at accents because I have a musical ear. I can imitate anyone, any accent. I tried to get him to let me give him a few singing lessons, just to train his ear, but no dice. Wouldn't even agree with me that singing is a great way to impress girls. Maybe I'm glad he isn't worried about that, however...

Michael's last tennis match of the season was this afternoon. Things went fine.  We were able to get all 4 of our matches [2 singles, 2 doubles] over pretty quickly. However, there was a distraction. The courts are sort of in a half moon around a covered tennis hut area with benches around the edges and a picnic table in the middle. I generally sit at the table so I can see most of what's going on. There were two grown men playing in the center court. They were playing when I got there and had dibs on the court, which wasn't an issue. My issue was one of the men had a foul temper, and every time he lost a game he had a little temper tantrum. His opponent was a black guy who was a really good player, and kept his calm just beautifully, which must've been difficult. The white guy was a good player, but he would yell, cuss, talk to himself, throw his raquet on the ground - just acting like a jerk.

Finally, all our boys were through, and Michael and two of his friends were just casually hitting balls in a court next to where the grownups had just finished playing. Tantrum guy stormed off his court to a bench, cussing and ranting, and threw his raquet against the low fence between his court and where Michael was - and if he had aimed a tad bit higher he would've hit Michael. Michael just froze. One of the other team's mommies, a tiny blonde lady, hollered at tantrum guy and said "HEY! That was uncalled for. There are CHILDREN here, buddy." I wanted to hug her. We had all been buzzing about his behavior. As soon as she said that I looked at Tantrum Guy and realized that Colton and Matthew were standing there laughing out loud at the guy's antics. They weren't shocked or traumatized - they thought he was ridiculous. He clearly saw them. I think that put him in his place better than anything.

I told Michael later, if he had hit Michael with that raquet I would've gotten mideval on his butt. Colton would've too. If Tantrum Guy wants to break his raquet that's his business but I won't stand for someone hurting my son.

I invited Colton to come over and eat dinner with us and watch a movie. I got home and realized, the meat I had bought to fix was turned. I have to start freezing the meat for the latter half of the week. So I just fixed macaroni and cheese, but I jazzed it up with some chopped onion and peppers, and ham. It was very tasty. The boys ate well.

Now that the season has ended, I've got to find Michael somewhere to play tennis, but money is so tight it's going to be tough...