The End of the Affair

Every morning at 7:37, for as long as I can remember, we've heard the strains of the Elmo's World song. Lu will stand at attention: what will Elmo be doing today (besides speaking about himself in the third person)?!! He's always having fun! He's the star of his own segment that takes up one-third of the show! Elmo epitomizes both toddler interests (bicycles, families, fish, cats, hurricanes) and the toddler superego (deep emotion, short attention span, intense self-focus, absent parents). Elmo has been Lu's idol, her guru, her BOYFRIEND.

Except she broke up with him today. Maybe she did not break up with him today, but like any slowly declining relationship, today was the day of clarity. The day of "Oh, by dating other people, you mean...dating people other than me."

Today, at 7:37, she said, "Turn this off. I wanna watch Dora." This, from a semi-sick child who would have previously used Elmo as a poultice on a wound if she could have.

Turn this off. The end. Goodbye. And don't let the door hit you on your furry red ass on the way out.

Used Vacuum: $5. Dignity: Priceless.

We had our first (and only) garage sale on Saturday. We lost $960 (when you consider the gross profit of $240, minus hours invested, based on a very conservative freelance potential of $75/hour). We also lost something much more valuable than money and time. OUR RESPECT FOR HUMANITY. I have some words to the wise about garage sales, some of which involve profanity (and make me sound like not a very nice person):

1. People will show up at 7:40 and lurk like annoyed vultures, even when your cute sign says "8 a.m.! No early birds!"
2. People will insult your stuff. To your face.
3. People will switch stickers and try to steal. Even if the item only costs a dollar to start with.
4. If it rains, people will want a discount because stuff is wet.
5. The bitch-ass manager of the vintage store where you paid a lot of money for the clothes will come and buy them back from you at a fraction of the price. The best ones.
6. Craigslist is the new garage sale. Invite the jerks to paw through your stuff on a one-to-one basis.

Scene from a garage sale:
Confused man wanders up at the end of the sale and inquires about the rusty, filthy sad mountain bike. Its price ($20) has fallen off and truly may be too much. I say, "Dude, it's your lucky day. Five bucks." He laughs in a polite, confused way and keeps shopping. He wanders back to me and asks about how old the bike is. He shops some more. He comes up and asks about how long the bike has been sitting outside. How to take the back wheel and derailer off. Finally, I say, "Dude, it's free. Just take it. You can have it." And he feels bad and says, "I feel bad. I'll give you a dollar." I hate him so much in this moment. I say, with feigned levity, "Hey man, I don't need your charity. What I need is for you to get this bike out of here." At which point Maggie advises him, "Um, I think she just wants you to stop talking to her."

All of you, stop talking to me. Yes, fifty cents is fine. No wait — for you, forget it. I would rather give it to Goodwill. I would rather watch it rot in my living room, shedding paint, staining my floor, scraping me with its rusty scales than sell it to you. Now leave. LEAVE.

Weird

Lucy is interested in knowing what every word means. She recently asked me to define the word "weird." I had a hard time, because then I had to define the words "strange" and "normal." Sometimes it's best to define things visually:

Open Letter to Patrons of Z'Tejas Ladies Room

Dear Any Women in the Z'Tejas north location restroom around or after 7:45 p.m.,

I am sorry. I am sorry for what you heard and smelled. I am sorry for the soiled Hello Kitty underwear we had to leave in the trashcan. I am sorry you saw my daughter's butt.

Sincerely,
Kate


p.s. To the attendant who has to empty that trashcan, I am so very, very sorry.

When Asked, "What are You Doing, Lu?"

"I put my girl to bed. Because she is really tired. Because she went to sleep because she already ate dinner. And now I'm going to show the kids how to learn at school. You're going to be Miss Laura and I'm going to be Miss Nila. Miss Erin's not coming because she's on a airplane flying to her house. Her house is way far away. That's why she's riding on the airplane. It's in Mexico. It's in Mexico, Mom. And Miss Nila's house is in Mexico too. Now we're going to learn our continents."

In Case You Wondered What We'd Been up to

We have been running in so many different directions (literal directions, actual cities), that I don't have the mental energy to offer you a thesis or some witticism. Instead I offer you brief overview of everything we have done, but I have not covered, in ten important days (with a heavy skew toward what I did because I missed the rest). It is the longest and least interesting entry ever. Read if you have nothing better to do.

Wednesday-Thursday 5/30 - 5/31:
Kate is in Atlanta, meeting with a bunch of women and UPS executives. Rides an elevator up 72 stories (30 of which are in a glass tube), to eat lunch at the top of the tallest hotel in the Western Hemisphere. Note: if you are afraid of heights, you will not enjoy lunch very much.

Jason and Lucy and my dad are in Austin, doing their thing. Granddad babysits Lucy, while Jason kicks off his bowling league (tentatively named "Banjo Pussywhistle"). Lucy goes to bed at 8:30.

Friday 6/1
Kate flies from Atlanta to Houston, Houston to Harlingen, rents car and drives to Padre Island, checks into condo, grabs beer, takes beer to beach, tries to work, worries about sand in Blackberry. Turns Blackberry off.

Jason packs for a long car trip and weekend all by himself. Jason, Lucy and Granddad drive to Padre Island. I am rendered obsolete.

HONOUR DONAHO GRADUATES FROM HIGH SCHOOL. Almost as important: she kicks off the graduation ceremony with a pretty, perfect version of the national anthem.

Saturday 6/2
AM: We go to the beach and discover Lu hates sand. And waves. And wants to watch TV. We compromise by getting her to swim in the pool for a designated period of time, after which she can watch television. This should save us lots of vacation expenses in the future.
PM: We introduce Lu to collecting seashells. She has a new interest in the beach.

Sunday 6/3
More beach. Home. Kate goes to sleep in her own bed at 9 p.m.

Monday 6/4
Sort of a normal day.

Tuesday 6/5
Kate drives to airport (late) to find short-term parking full (though not marked as such). Is rude to ticket-taker on the way out. Feels really bad and is nice to every single human she encounters in ensuing 5 days. Discovers valet service at Park Express. Makes flight. Goes to New York.

Lucy poops and does not demand chocolate.

Wednesday 6/6
Kate meets with potential client. Very high-end retail on Fifth Freaking Avenue. Wears fabulous shoes, carries good (discreet) bag, feels like complete hayseed. Sees Harold Ford Junior on the street leaving the meeting. Makes eye contact (and mental plans to meet later). Talks to Lucy, who demands to come to "Yew Nork."

Lucy enjoys "Splash Day" at school, which is a glorified way of turning the hose on the children.

Thursday 6/7
After 3.5 hours of sleep, Kate wakes up to catch flight from New York to Dallas. Flight has electrical problem on runway and is delayed. Kate faces prospect of missing single most important meeting for main account in recent history. Plane takes off late, but lands. Kate changes clothes AT THE RENTAL CAR DESK. Gets lost and drives in 5 circles trying to get out of DFW airport. Sobs. Asks for help (3 times). Escapes. Makes a rented Hyundai go 100. Makes meeting (and kills).

Kate arrives home in time to retrieve Lucy from school (to her surprise). Takes her home for some quality time. Lucy excitedly receives Sophie and Laney for Thursday night babysitting coop.

Saturday 6/8
Kate, Jason and Lucy go to Major World (Waxahachie) to celebrate Katie & Brian's wedding. Lu gets her first boat ride. Bill and Patsy become Lu's subjects. We get to watch Katie do kegstands.

Sunday 6/9
Lake. Barbecue. Home.

Someone's Calling...I Think It's Your Bluff.

Jason is trying to put Lucy to bed right now and she is a manic, giggling fool. This is the worst version of the Lucy Who Won't Sleep, because she's irresistible. You don't want her to go to bed — you want to take her out for a beer.

Jason just said, in his sternest voice, "That's it, Lucy, I am not going to argue with you anymore." She chuckled and said coyly, "Yes, you aaarrrre...."

I laughed so loud from the other room that Jason got mad and Lucy laughed too.

Parenthood and Apocalypse

I just finished "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy. I am in despair. It's about this man and his son who wander around after some kind of nuclear holocaust. Think "Grapes of Wrath" meets "Schindler's List," with a hint of "Road Warrior." The bleakest thing I have ever read — horrific and hopeless and beautiful, without being at all maudlin.

So this dad ("the man" is the only name he has) has to find a way to protect his kid ("the boy") from cannibal marauders, feed him as they wander along a "cauterized landscape" where nothing grows, and foster hope in the boy even though there are maybe like five living nice people left in the world and no birds or sunshine or fresh air. And oh yeah, the dad was homeschooling him at one point. Or rather, roadschooling him.

I am still too stunned by the book to understand what it means to me, except that if Jason is Superdad, "the man" is the Mad Max of dads. Despite all that I have just said, I recommend the book. It makes me want to stockpile water and happiness.