>Welcome, Wabbit

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Meet the new member of the family. “Buddy” belonged to a neighbor who had two male rabbits. Then Buddy had babies. Oops. Now they have one baby rabbit, and we have the lovely Buddy. She has cow-like coloring, so La Petite has suggested renaming her Betsy. Buddy/Betsy is a Rex, so she’s very soft. It feels like petting a thick blanket when we hold her. She needs her claws clipped, so we’ll take her in to get to know the vet soon, very soon. In the meantime, Buddy/Betsy is our new furry friend.
Darwin, we still miss you. You’ll always be our special honey bunny.

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>Shoulds are bogus and hindsight is 20-20.

>It was definitely one of those days.

Should (not): The secretary on the phone at 7:20 telling me that Amigo had fallen and bumped his nose shouldn’t have used the phrase “I don’t know if it’s broken”.
Reality: She wasn’t a nurse, and didn’t describe the injury very well, despite my Red Cross training and my detailed questions.
End result: I worried all day. I even emailed husband.

Should: The historic house down the road should have been clear in their phone call.
Reality: Both the secretary and the principal thought it was a “deal with this within an hour or lose the trip!” situation.
End result: We were cranky when we made the return call because we hadn’t arranged a field trip there, and we eventually found out the call had just been outreach to recruit more schools to visit.

Should: Teachers should communicate all special needs, even gifted and talented, to the next teacher.
Reality: A student today told me he was supposed to be in the next grade’s math program, accelerated by a year.
End result: The jury’s still out. I sent out a quick email to the relevant teachers, and I’ll check the child’s file tomorrow. I couldn’t today; I was dealing with a field trip phone call (see above).

Should: I should have stopped worrying about Amigo’s nose.
Reality: Since I didn’t see it or talk to a qualified medical person, I had no idea how serious it was — or not.
End result: He talks like he has a cold (which he still does), had a small headache, and strongly resembles a football player with a bandage instead of a breathing strip across his nose.

Ah, well, as my coworker so wisely said, “If you bang your head on the wall, all you’ll get is a sore head.” So instead of pounding out my frustration, I think I should have a cappuccino and some cinnamon toast. Comfort food is called for after a day like this.

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>Should I? Oh, yeah, "shoulds" are bogus.

>I did it. I entered the lottery for playoff tickets should the Milwaukee Brewers actually get there. Their chances seem to fluctuate every day.

If (and I know, it’s a big if) they reach the playoffs, and if (this is an even bigger if) I get lucky in the ticket lottery, I’ll have the chance to buy four tickets.

Then comes the question: Who will go?

The first two are obvious: me and Amigo. I’ll take a personal day, and I’ll sign him out of school for this life-altering experience. But now… La Petite has been to Miller Park once, and she doesn’t really follow baseball closely. She would enjoy the game if she went, but she might choose not to goor she might have too many classes. Husband would go, but it’s hard to tell if he’d be able to get a day or two off from work in the middle of Packer football season. So…I guess we’ll wait and see. It could be La Petite and boyfriend. La Petite and roommate. Husband and brother in law. Maybe even my sister-in-law, in Madison working on her masters. Oh, I’m sure we’ll have no trouble using the tickets.

Now the real issue rears its ugly head. Whatever will we wear? We can’t go to Miller Park without being clothed in the proper colors. I might have to go shopping. Darn. It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

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>comfort foods for a fall cold

>Comfort foods served or consumed today as Amigo and I suffer through our annual fall colds and mourn the little bunny:

cinnamon toast on homemade bread
half-caff coffee
large cup of juice
leftover homemade chicken noodle soup
canned fruit (strawberries and peaches)
mint ice cream (small scoop) with whipped cream
two cans of caffeine free diet coke
water bottle (constantly at side)
mutant homemade cookies (they look bad, but taste great)

I feel good that our fridge doesn’t look like Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. We had a lot of leftovers of quality foods that we could just grab and heat. Maybe that tomato soup from the freezer will thaw by suppertime. I am grateful for the bread machine and the crockpot. Without them, we’d eat a lot more junk.

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>Friday Haiku

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Sweet bunny still young
Died under anesthesia
Earlier today.
La Petite brought home a new little one a little while after Tiny died. She named him Darwin, and introduced him to Sadie and Peanut. They got along famously. She brought him in to be neutered today, and his heart stopped during the surgery. I’ll share some happy Darwin pictures later on. He was a sweetie, a very loving little furry friend.
Here’s a link to one of La Petite’s photo albums. There are several pix of Darwin.

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>Funday Sunday at work

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Husband has to work all weekend. He’s working here. Need proof?
That’s his finger in the bottom of the picture.
Ever wonder how the cameras get set up to televise a game? How many there are? Where they might be?

Here’s part of the answer.

Yes, they’re on the roof of Lambeau Field, boldly going where no fan has gone before. Well, at least where no one has worn a cheesehead.

All photos courtesy of Husband’s cell phone camera. And just a note: the guy in the red t-shirt? His wife was my maid of honor, 20-some years ago when I married Husband. 🙂 It’s a small world!

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>Merchants now fear us

>Husband and I had quite an experience shopping recently. We went to three stores, and we had to call for a manager in all three.

In the first store, let’s call it Office Heaven, I couldn’t find the notebooks I wanted. The store has recently remodeled and rearranged and makes no sense whatsoever. I walked through the computer section three times vefore I gave in and asked a clerk to point me toward the multi-packs of steno notebooks. There was only one option, it was pricey, and the steno books were ugly (plain white cover extolling the virtues of Office Heaven itself), so I decided to try another store. Meanwhile, Husband had picked out a small technology item for Amigo. The price on the package and the product name/code matched one price on the shelf, but a different price rang up at the register: $20 higher than the price we saw. The manager muttered and grumbled indecisively, but finally gave us the lower price.

Store two, Extreme Office Supplies, didn’t have my steno books either. They were out of stock for the second time this month. The folks in charge couldn’t give me an answer, either, when I asked when such an item might come in. “Oh, we never know how many we’ll sell. It’ll automatically reorder if we sell a lot.” I reminded them that they’d been out of these notebooks two weeks ago as well. No answer. None.

Store three, the Greatest Party Show on Earth, had also rearranged and remodeled to a point where I didn’t know where anything was any more. The clerk led us to the table skirt I need to cover the computer cords hanging from my classroom pod, and I wandered around looking for odd and random and inexpensive pencils for my students. We found them, finally, at the checkout. Three boxes of random designs, marked down to ten cents a pencil! Hey, honey, start counting. I want fifty. The clerk scanned one, hit the buttons to multiply by 50, and came up with — 24 cents a pencil. Oops! She called a manager, who verified that the right price was one thin dime per writing implement and unlocked the register so she could fix my total.

We came away with good deals and most of what we wanted. However, we imagined the neighboring stores setting up lookouts. “Here they come, that innocent looking couple we told you about! Check all your prices and shelf tags. Quick! Before they come in the door! Find the ‘Closed’ sign! OMG, it’s only Back to School. I hope they don’t shop here for Christmas.”

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>Friday Fun

>Summer Fridays are special for me and Amigo. We go out to lunch. We call it Funday Friday, and we really enjoy it. We choose a different restaurant each time unless something calls for an old favorite. If Dad has the day off or La Petite is coming along, we might pick a favorite that we think they’d like and share it with them. Few of our choices are chains, unless they are a statewide or regional type of place. We prefer locally owned eateries, whether diners, family style restaurants, or even pubs/bars with a good menu.
Amigo has learned a lot of social skills from these Funday Fridays. He knows how to ask for a table for two, nonsmoking (outside the city limits, that is: our city has a smoking ban in public places), and then he asks if they have a Braille menu.
This is often a challenge. We’ve been pleasantly surprised at the number of places that actually have a Braille menu, even though sometimes the host or hostess has to ask a manager to help find it. When they have a Braille menu, Amigo can figure out his own order, and he sometimes even recommends something to me.
He has also learned a lot of basic skills like putting a straw in a glass, eating shrimp with the tail still on, handling a big sandwich or burger, and asking for a take-home box if the portions are large. It’s rare that he needs the last one; he is fifteen, after all. Leftovers don’t happen very often on his plate.
But even though he learns a lot while we’re out, that’s not the real purpose of Funday Friday. We do it because we enjoy doing something special together. It’s quality time at its best, from the choice of restaurant to the choice of dessert. We chat about random things, radio, books, current events, weather, anything that’s on our minds. Sometimes he makes friends with the waitstaff, and then a return trip is almost required.
Funday Fridays are now over for the summer. When school starts we’ll leave this special routine behind — until next summer. Who knows? There might be a few new places in town we need to try.

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>Baseball Boogie

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Despite the 90 degree heat, Amigo boogied down outside US Cellular Stadium before a White Sox game. The band was playing classics from Chicago and Blood, Sweat, and Tears — the kind of tunes that warmed this baby boomer’s heart. He’s fifteen, and he shows that whether it’s baby boomer favorites or baby disco, you’re never too old or too young to enjoy moving to the music.

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