Dear Diary,

Remember when I told you I wanted children?  And how I went ahead and had them because you didn’t tell me not to do it?  Well, that shit is not working out so we’re going to need some ground rules going forward.  The next time I tell you I want a living creature you are to stop me.  You are to say – Really?  How are those other living creatures you already have working out for you?  At which point, I’ll review the following entry and run away:

It is with great pride that I announce that the boy who lives at my house is graduating from 8^th grade.  Not only he is graduating but he achieved ALL As this year and was asked to write and deliver a speech at the commencement ceremony.  At first I was extremely pleased, what parent wouldn’t be?  But I was about to be brought down to earth in a fiery crash just like the parents of all teenagers experience at least once a day.

Boy:       This is your fault.

Me:        What? Fault?  What fault?    

Boy:       I have straight As and now have to write a speech.  That’s your fault.

Me:        Oh, I might take a bit of responsibility for that, you did get your brains from my side of the family.

Boy:       Are you going to help me or not?

Me:        When did you ask me for help?

Boy:       Why did you think I told you about it?  And you’re a writer, jeez, Mom.  (Whine when you read that last part.)

I don’t know, maybe because I’m your mother and I should be told these things?  Really, Diary, that’s what he said.

Several hours later, we’d hammered out an acceptable speech.  We made it funny, quoted Steve Jobs (the boy’s favorite human), checked some grammar with Amylynn, removed the word “trepidation” because no one wants to get beaten up after graduation (?), read through it many, many times to check for any awkward sentences and running time.  It was very late when we were finally done and way past my 8PM bedtime.     

And so you see, Diary, had you stopped me from having children I could have been in bed a long time ago instead of quoting Steve Jobs and trying to make a fourteen year old boy use the word “trepidation”  – out loud, in public, in front of other fourteen year old people.  I blame you.

Sincerely,

Me

Teenagers. Ick. And yet we tried so hard to have them. What’s the last thing your kid did that had you considering getting out the warranty paperwork to see if they were still returnable? Or was it you? What did you do to your parents? For shame!

Everyone stop worrying! Arizona has solved the problem once and for all. No one needs to worry anymore about where Barak Obama is from.

Aren’t you all relieved?

Thank Zeus we have put that question to rest. I’ll tell you, it really plagued my mind. I kept pondering over and over, what if Barak isn’t really from Hawaii? Well, Arizona got involved and, like always, we made the situation better. That’s what they always say about us, you know.

Whew, Arizona always brings a cool, decisive head to the game. Thank God they’re here to watch out for the rest of us.

But still, I kept thinking, what if he’s from like Tucson? That would be cool. Arizona could use a president. We almost had one, but, well, you all know how that went. But it would have been nice for the county to have finally got the spelling of our town right, once and for all.

But then I thought, maybe he’s from Hohokus, NJ cause that’s a fun place to say. Hohokus. But the people I know from New Jersey don’t like admitting they’re from NJ so I’m thinking he wouldn’t spend so much time fighting for everyone to know it.

There’s always North Dakota, but I cancelled that out real quick. There’s only like five people from North Dakota and four of them are carved on that mountain.

He could have been from Missouri, but then I’ve never heard him say all those stupid down-home phrases my father trots out all the time like “cute as a speckled pup” and crap like that, so I discounted Missouri.

I guess he’s really from Hawaii because every where else is just weird.

Where else is he not from? Where are you from? What makes you’re people weird? I got to looking on the internet and there are some really strange town names in the U.S.: Kalamazoo, Michigan? Spunky Puddle, Ohio? Monkey’s Eyebrow, Kentucky? All real places. Truth is stranger than fiction. Where are you from?

Get this.

There is a very large financial institution in the news right now because they lost a gob smacking amount of money. Ava and I would like it noted that this doesn’t happen to be the financial institution which employs us, not that ours is any less frequently in the news, just not this particular time. We’d also like it noted that it’s nice to have the finger pointed at someone else for a change.

Anyway, this bank came up in the news again today. The New York Times is reporting that the bank is blaming the astronomical loss on Lyme Disease.

When I read the article I hooted out loud. I can’t believe what an incredibly brilliant excuse this is. Don’t you know that you can blame medical conditions for every bad thing that happens? Especially if you can get medical professionals to liken your condition to syphilis – a disease that no one wants to examine too closely should it’s taint effect you as well.

Syphilis and, now by association, Lyme Disease is a Get Out of Jail Free card. You can get away with anything.  Well not putting cats in an oven, per se. That’s just heinous. It does seem to work for the bank, however.

Apparently, the senior investor who’s taken much of the brunt of the blame has said she got the disease in 2010 and was too exhausted to know that, “her underlings were running amok and betting billions on bad investments.”

Holy Cow. I’m totally going to start using this. It’s even more effective if you whisper the name of the disease in hushed tones. **Cancer**. See, ominous isn’t it?

I’ve been using Legionnaires Disease as an excuse for years. It happens to be effective because no one knows what the hell it is, but it sounds awful. Typhoid still scares people. Chicken Pox, when called by its proper name, Varicella, sounds much worse. I might trot out Leprosy and see how that works next time I’m late for an appointment.

Mad Cow totally doesn’t work because it sounds funny.

“You see, I forgot to show up to the PTA meeting because I have,” stop for several beats and then whisper, “bubonic plague.”

I swear, it’ll work like a charm.

What is your best excuse? Do you use a disease or some other ridiculous reason? What is the worst thing your outrageous excuse got you out of?

Jojo had an appointment with the vet today. I just wanted to get him his shots and make sure he was as healthy as I thought he was.

Turns out that:

1) He is indeed a boy. You’d think this would be easy to determine, but no.

2) He’s very healthy with no feline leukemia, hernia, mites, viruses or other icky things normally found on strays. I attribute this to his adoring human mother.

3) We’re right about our estimate of his age – about 8-9 weeks old.

4) Vet’s offices are a fun place to be. I should have stuck with that plan to be a veterinarian. It’s way better than Bank of No Forks.

When Jojo and I got there, the waiting room was so crowded there was nowhere to sit. Then when they called us back there was no examination room available so we were shown to the back room and the surgery. Jojo was a hit and all the techs thought him adorable.

Because he is.

I told them he was found in our boat so the doctor dubbed him an honorary Merchant Marine. While we were waiting for blood tests to come back, I learned what all the other animals in the back were there for. One giant Schnauzer, Blue Lady, had eaten an entire beach towel and had to have emergency surgery. Stupid dog. They thought she was going to pull through, but it had been touch and go there for a while.

There was an enormous white persian with ridiculously huge, round golden eyes. He had also eaten something and they hadn’t decided what they were going to do about it yet. He was taken out of his holding cage and put on the same table with Jojo. He just sat there like a fuzzy lump. He made absolutely no move at all, not even a peep, when he was stabbed, twice, with an IV needle. The tech described him as a giant marshmallow. Incredibly apt description.

And then, through a sliver of window I saw a HUGE black, fuzzy mass. I jumped right up and thrust poor sleeping Jojo at a tech and raced to the hall. I was right! A newfie – and he was huge. Huger even than Sophie. I didn’t even hesitate to grasp his wide, fuzzy head and gaze into his soft brown eyes.

His name is Claymore. How awesome is that? He weighed 185 lbs and is only 18 months old. It made my heart ache for my Sweet Sophie. His master was horrified that I was immediately covered in drool but I only laughed when he whipped out a “drool towel”. I assured him that I wasn’t even the slightest bit upset. I confessed that I still have drool marks on the ceiling in the living room and Sophie’s been gone for years.

Ah, if you thought cake and buttercream frosting were my weaknesses, you’re wrong. It’s fuzzy faces. They’re my undoing.

Kelli famously aspired to being either a lawyer or waitress. She couldn’t decided which was more glamorous. What did you want to be when you grew up? Was it way better than what you ended up being? Astronaut? Fireman? Movie Star?

Oh my God. I’m so annoyed at myself.

Solar Eclipse Glasses. Check.

Tell everyone you know about watching the amazing phenomenon. Check.

Write blog making fun of people who don’t plan to watch the “show”. Check.

Check the local time on the internet, double-check, triple-check. Check.

Set alarm on cell phone. Check.

Check the time obsessively so we don’t miss it. Check.

Ask Siri to remind me just in case. Check.

Get involved with watching Captain America on the television, leave the phone in the living room, and miss the whole God damned thing.

Check.

Son of a b………

 (Although Ava had no intentions of viewing the eclipse, even she was forced into it by the people who live at her house – she was forced into the street wearing her jammies, no underwear and a welding mask.  I assure you, more were blinded by that get-up then staring at the sun.)

What did you wear to the solar eclipse and did you have your underwear on?