I'm back bitches, gays, mothers who love profanity and anybody else who accidentally reads the word that is Miss Spoken!
Ahhhh, another extended hiatus from the blogosphere with absolutely no reason other than (a) I often question whether or not what I have to say is worth reading and (b) can I make what I have to say sarcastic enough that the collection of words truly conveys the ridiculous recipe of boredom, exhaustion, laundry and random vagina jokes that has become my existence.
Maybe I think too much.
Maybe I think too little.
I'll have to think about that at 3:00 in the morning when Satan's flock of Devil Birds start their early-morning cacophony of shrieks and cackles from their Hell-based nest (i.e. the tree right outside my bedroom window).
It's not that there hasn't been anything to write about. I have actually left my house and not just for butter and wine, although I gotta say, I really do love my butter and wine trips. And I have on occasion used my computer for reasons other than researching the do's and dont's of buying pharmaceuticals over the Internet (note: I think I'll stick to random trips to Mexico like any normal mother of three would do.)
Let me bore you with my June itinerary:
We kicked off week one with The Boy and Boss Lady participating in their school's Spirit Week. I'm told that this is some kind of school tradition and I do have vague memories of Legal putting me through this when she was in school. But the schools I attended in San Francisco either didn't perform these rituals or the memories were so horrendous I have deleted them from my memory bank. My elementary school was a concrete slab with three eight foot poles sticking out of the ground. Maybe a ball had been tethered to them at one point. Who the fuck cares. No jungle gym. No fucking tanbark. Nothing but concrete and benches to park your ass when you made little Susie close her eyes and you walked her repeatedly into the only structure available for your amusement: steel poles. Middle school was no different (except there were no steel poles, just a guy who sometimes walked by the fence and exposed himself). I wish I could tell you about high school but habitual truancy does not promote a great understanding of school pride, Winter Ball themes or even the location of a locker I'm sure I was assigned. But to be fair to my 16 year old self, it was 1988, Jane's Addiction just released "Nothing's Shocking" and you could buy Brass Monkey in 750 mL bottles.
Week one ended with a two night camping trip to Donner Lake. Ya'll remember how this ended last year? This time we managed to escape without too much blood and Legal stayed away from the vodka. Mostly because there wasn't any and she already learned her lesson about what it feels like to vomit copious amounts of wine so at least my Chardonnay was safe. This family of mine is pretty notorious for peddling crazy so it was only fitting that on our last night we almost got kicked out for playing Telephone. You know, the game that involves nothing but whispering. Fortunately for us, Johnny Boy is our go-to guy when it comes to speaking with the police or anybody in a I Can Arrest You capacity. Not only did we not get kicked out, But JB also schooled the Ranger on some of his own rules and regs that for whatever reasons, JB knew better than he did (Note: everybody run out right now and pick up a JB of your very own. It's like bail money in the bank.)
And that was just week one. Stay tuned for the remaining weeks which include belly dancers, an arrest and the subsequent chewing of Xanax like tic-tacs!!