Yesterday was a marathon day for everyone in my little family, and well before 9 we were all pooped out. Totally. On top of it all, it was FREEZING.
I actually wore a coat to work.
I worked yesterday morning, then came home and took Mother to the Wound Clinic for a re-check. Her legs are better, but she still has to wear bandages for a couple of more weeks before she can do the compression stockings.
On the way home I had to stop at the school and find Michael and give him his asthma inhaler. It was his first day of grueling 3 hour wrestling team practices. I found him in the gym, in a long line of sweaty boys. He had already done his running, so I was too late, but he tolerated mama coming to school pretty gracefully. The coach came up and introduced himself. He's such a nice young man. I felt very.very.short.
Michael's grade in Math is close to 100, and his math teacher is also the wrestling coach. He's never had such a high math grade, thanks be to God.
Came home and had to work some more, at my second job, writing blogs for a young lawyer.
Cooking dinner was just impossible so I ordered a pizza. I rarely do that, but it was either that or grilled cheese sanwiches and I figured pizza was slightly more nutritious.
The howling wind startled Coco about 9:30 and she started barking and woke up Michael. He was about to go downstairs and put her in "time out" and she stopped. Her "time out" is simply to be behind baby gates in the back part of the house. The easier it is for her to see outside, the more she barks.
Praying for all the people in the path of the Frankenstorm...
One of my Facebook friends posted a graphic and about half a dozen of my friends have shared it. You have to be past 40 to "get it" but we oldsters think it's hysterical: Picture a drawing of a surgeon with a scalpel. "Patient laid down the boogie and played that funky music til he died."
For those of you who'd like to hear the original song, here it is:
