Sunday, June 21, 2009

The Dog Ate My Homework

I've joked about the dog eating my homework many times. Like when I forgot a needed paper for a meeting, or work. How many times have you heard or even used this excuse in school? And no one ever got away with it.

I can now attest that dogs will eat paper. In particular, money. The other day I was given six dollars in change at the grocery. Since I was in a hurry, I shoved the bills into my purse and not into my wallet. When I got home, I dropped my purse onto the floor to make it easier to carry the groceries to the kitchen. I forgot about the bills being loose in the handbag.

Later, I discovered some disgustingly slimy throwup in the basement. When I was cleaning it up, pieces of the paper money were discernible. Incredulous, I peered closer and saw many shreds of money.

Using a plastic bag as a glove, I gathered the entire mess and took it to the sink where I rinsed off bits and pieces of my six dollars!!
So the dog literally ate my money!

That's not all. After much washing, I layed the money out on a plate to dry. Again, I forgot about the money being there - probably intentionally.

A few days later I was walking the dog. Now, I do not normally watch the animal while he makes his doo doo, but for some reason, this time I did. Some long green and white thing emerged when he did his business.

A chunk of the same five dollar bill.

It's yours for the taking.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Old New York

Tom, the eldest, is safely ensconced in the apartment he'll be sharing for the summer during his trip to NY City. Well, perhaps that's a bit of an exaggeration. Last I heard he was munching burgers at Micky D's with his traveling companions. All dropped their suitcases at their respective domiciles, and immediately went out to eat. Unpacked? Nope. That's for later.

Now begins the first "real" day in NYC.

Being in a large city is like having adrenalin pumped through your veins. You can't help but be captured by the life, the continual motion and noises. Flashing lights. Honking horns. Yelling from the street corners. Then there's the "other" kind of yelling as well.
Broadway shows and glitz. Extreme wealth. Extreme poverty. Side by side on any given street.

Riding the subway, trying to act like you really do know where you're going when you don't.

Pretending to be a New Yorker when wearing a Davie County tee shirt.

North Carolina? Isn't that some third world country down south? (You have to imagine the accent.)

I guess some love the fast life - the city life. But not me. Not anymore.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Picking Your Battles

Two teenage sons. Need I say more? Clashes. Opinions. Assertiveness. Growing into adult young men isn't easy - for either the child or the parents. As the saying goes, 'Little do they understand until they have children of their own. ' But for now, we give them room to expand themselves. We pick our battles.

Yes, there are times even my absolutely perfect college boys get into trouble. There are many instances when I'd love to send them to the corner, or to their room. But the boys are 19 and (almost) 21 respectively. If they haven't learn the basics by now, my husband and I haven't done our parenting very well.
When we do get upset, it usually revolves around a major theme, such as responsibility and communications. It doesn't involve the length of hair or cleanliness of rooms. Don't get me wrong. I'll complain. Suggest. Complain. Repeatedly. But it's not a battle on which I really want to waste energy.
For example, I told my younger son that if he didn't clean his room, I was going to post a picture of it on my blog.
He lay in his bed and laughed as I took several shots. Did he even attempt to tidy? Nope.
I hope you can really experience the awe I have for the way he can manoeuvre through such ....clutter seems too benign a description. I mean, there is not one square inch of floor uncluttered. You need to launch yourself onto the bed else you'd never reach it.

Am I exaggerating?

See for yourself.

I sigh and shake my head, dismayed. After all, I am such a clean, tidy, and organized person. Where did he get these messy genes? LOL