Good Things Come In Small Packages... Or Medium-Sized Amazon Boxes

Yep. That would be a garbage truck.

Monday dawned cold and damp. It rained the night before and even though I knew it wouldn't snow or ice, a smidgen of me was hoping for just a little bit of black ice. Enough for a two-hour delay. Alas. The 5:30AM wake-up call came anyway.

I went to Zumba and poor Cherry had sprained her ankle on Sunday. She did modified steps, which messed her up because I don't think she's good with improvisation. I tried to follow Pillar (sp?) but she was kind of a train wreck. So I followed the lady next to her, with the pony tail. She's actually really good. (Not the short little spit-fire with the pony tail. And not the lady with the sling. This lady is rather plain-looking and taller and always up front. But a DAMNED good dancer.) From now on, I'm going to pay attention to her because she knows exactly what's going on.

Tyler is having me read all the marketing/proposal materials that our competitor turned in to the FAA when we were trying for that government contract back in 2009. It was a painful exercise and one I don't want to repeat, but will have to when I read more tomorrow. Maybe I'm reading a bit much into it, but it seems like their material is a combination of empty promises and shade being thrown our way (Lord, I have watched far too much Real Housewives of Atlanta - throwin' shade - HA!). I'll make it, but every now and then I throw my hands up and shout all manner of curse words at the screen. It's probably a good thing I put those non-see-through curtains on my office window.

When we got home from school, I discovered an Amazon box on my front stoop and it was a book I had ordered this summer. It's Laura Ingalls Wilder's Pioneer Girl. It's an unvarnished manuscript of her biography that she wrote before the Prairie books and from which she pulled the material for the Prairie books and made it more acceptable for young readers. Like, there's more in-depth stuff and it's more harsh, not gussied up at all. I tore into it this evening and haven't made it past the editor's introduction about how Laura and her daughter Rose worked on this book (Laura writing and Rose editing). I can't wait to get into the meat of it!

I got word that our neighbor in West Virginia passed away. Clyde, the husband, died in October (I know I told you). They lived across the street from us, had lived there since World War II, and were are oldest and dearest friends. After Clyde died, my mom was having a personal guilt trip about going back to see his wife, Goldie. Well, Goldie passed three days ago. Mom came by for chili this evening and cried and I could tell she felt guilty for not going back and visiting them. I'm telling you, man, I'm convinced that most of human grief involving death isn't about missing the person, it's about regret.

Well, enough of that deep shit. The feline Jackson Pollock has yet to strike again. I guess he's giving me a break after the marathon carpet cleaning. The kids are all well, but Jarrod refused, yet again, to wear a jacket while playing outside and came home 90 minutes later sobbing because he couldn't feel his hands. No. Sympathy. Put them under lukewarm water and we had a long discussion about, "Gee, maybe Mama isn't blowing smoke up your ass and actually knows what she's talking about. WHAT A CONCEPT!" Recovery was immediate and lesson was learned.

That's enough updating for now! I hope all is well in the Fatherland and we miss you!

(PS I saw Rachel's post and sent her a text about Randall, that we're here if she needs help and all that. Or to hide his body.)

Auf Wiedersehen!