Cubs and Wolves and Sousas. Oh My

I'm basically a little glad at this point that I've put off going back to school for a master's degree right now. My daughter is a sousaphone-carrying band geek. Then heathen number 2 just joined the school chorus and the math team. Also, my new job (which is pretty cool if I can ever get the hang of how to, uh, count) has rearranged the basic schedule I'd worked my life around the past five or so years so now I'm not available to pick the boys up from school and be home when Tubagirl gets off the bus.

My mommy has been a wonderful help in that she picks the boys up for me.

But on to other ramblings about my mundane life. Being a band mom is very hard work. Whenever I pick her up from practice, there are always parent volunteers there who have obviously been there the whole time. Who are these people? Where in god's name do they find the time? Are their band geek kids their only children? Are they living on residual incomes that don't require day to day work? Do they make their living selling band discount cards on the black market? Do they sleep? I'm not sure they do. Indoctrinated band parents must obviously have some vampiracle (I think I made that word up) qualities about them that the rest of us do not possess.

But the basic point is this: my oldest child has an extra curricular activity. (Not to mention that she has already joined the school chorus for spring semester and is considering going out for soccer.) My middle son has taken on two activities. My youngest son is out free floating because the one activity I'd signed him up for last year is no longer possible with my work schedule.

We're taking on boy scouts. With both the boy heathens. I put an add on facebook a couple of days ago for a wife, but it seems no one wants to be my wife. So it looks like I'm going to have to continue being my own wife and I don't make a very good wife. I'm good at thinking about things. I wish I could get a job thinking. Then I could just think about boy scouts and math teams and band cards in the comfort of my own private little think tank office.

I'm whining and I want chocolate. Shut up and hand me that bacon so I can dip it in some candiquick.

Stop! A head!

Life, at times, can be quite fortuitous. It seems my neighbor's dogs keep finding random hair heads and dragging them to the neighborhood. It's an new day in KARland with a million ways to potentially entertain myself. Perhaps I am too easily amused.

Why, hellooooooo there! New to the neighborhood?
I just so happen to have a nice plate of chocolate covered bacon right here in my hand
and you look like a man who could use some chocolate covered bacon.

What? No. I actually mean bacon covered in chocolate.
No. I didn't mean my vagina.
I'm just not the kind of girl to cover my vagina in chocolate.

A cat fight over the new man. It happens in trailer parks sometimes.
Sometimes it happens in front of the piggly wiggly, too.

Why hello, neighbor! Earning your Eagle Scout Badge? Oh.
She took the trailer in the divorce. I'm very sorry to hear that.

So I guess the appointment with the plastic surgeon didn't go well? So sorry to hear that. But hey, going noseless is all the rage in hollywood these days.
Besides, you can't even really tell. No, really!
Now why don't you crawl out of the car before something else melts?

Gardening is good for the soul.

Going on vacation? You forgot the stamp.