Weekend Plans

I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.

– Alfred, Lord Tennyson

I’m Pulling For You

Okay . . . take two.  I’ve mentioned before how my talking about silly stuff can sometimes be a sign that I’m processing something serious in the background.

Yeah . . . so my cousin had a stroke recently.  We haven’t seen each other in years, and haven’t really interacted since the days when we played together as children, so my interactions with the situation so far have been pretty much limited to waiting for news (I understand he’s doing “okay” all things considered.) and dispensing advice to others that they do their best to take care of themselves and rest as best they can while waiting for news.

That . . . and occasionally reminding myself to take my own advice, particularly the first night after I heard what had happened.

This candle’s for you, buddy.

Retreat!

Looks like I’m going to have to call for a “strategic withdrawal” from the idea of making a coherent entry today.  Fortunately, days like this don’t happen that often, but today is definitely one of them.

So Don’t Worry

By the way, son, no matter what anyone may say, you don’t really look exactly like me . . . and the ways you do look like me look better on you than they do on me.

A lot better.

I’m Not Sure I Want To Be THAT Recognizable!

While doing some grocery shopping with L. and Lala today, L. and I got separated from Lala.  Knowing that she’d catch up with us eventually, I didn’t give this any thought, and, sure enough, she found us not long afterwards.  Then she said something I found strange:

“I sure am glad you’re recognizable!”

Even knowing that I wasn’t going to like the answer, I asked her what she meant anyway.

“While I was looking for you, someone on staff asked me if I needed help finding anything, and I told them I was looking for you,” she answered.  She followed this up by telling me that she’d rattled off two quick descriptors to this guy, then added, and I quote, “and pushing his clone around in a cart.”

“He’s over there,” the guy told her.

I’m Just Saying

Of all the theories of language development I know are out there, here’s one I’ve never heard, but I think deserves to be considered:

One of the impetuses for language development, in particular the creation of new words, was the need for parents to communicate to each other their need to do things like go behind a tree in peace for five minutes or so without their children following them to see what they were doing.

Oh!

So L. is at that age that his mother bought him some preschool activity books, and today he and I were doing a page from one of them.  As part of the activity, we were writing out the word ‘cat,’ and everything was going as expected until we finished drawing the ‘T.’

“Now draw an ‘O,'” L. insisted with a grin.

Sensing something was up, I looked at him with mock-sternness and reminded him that there was no ‘O’ in ‘cat.’

“‘O’ makes it a bug!” he giggled.

Now I knew he was up to something, but since I didn’t see where this was going, I gave in and asked him how.

“‘O’ makes it a ‘cat-o-pillar!” he told me.

Making Everything I’ve Done Today, By Defintion, Unreasonable

Today dawned as one of those days gray and chill enough that clearly the only reasonable courses of action are to stay in bed under the covers all day, or do absolutely nothing worthwhile at all.

For About Forty-Five Seconds, And Both Of Us Laughing The Whole Time

I should explain that our puppy has an in-house enclosure (about 10 ft. by 10 ft.) for those times when we can’t give her the full run of the house . . . or when she needs a place to get away from a rampaging preschooler for a little bit.

Today was definitely one of those days for the latter.

In fairness, both preschooler and puppy were starting to play too rough with each other, nothing too bad, but enough that I asked (I thought rhetorically), “Do I need to put one of you up?”

“Yes!” L. chirped brightly with a huge smile on his face.

So I put him in the enclosure.

Seat Belts Really DO Save Lives

Years ago I mentioned in passing my friend who felt that seat belt laws were “Communism.”  With equal provocation, over the weekend I found myself thinking of another friend from the same time period who was a firm, almost fanatical, believer in seat belts.  One day I asked him why.

“I flipped my truck once, rolled her three or four times before she came to a stop,” was his laconic reply.  “A seat belt saved my life.”

“I can see that,” I said with a nod.

“Not yet you don’t,” he chuckled.  “Yeah, my seat belt kept me from bein’ hurt, but it didn’t necessarily save my life.  The seat belt that kept my 300 pound buddy in his seat instead of squishin’ me like a grape, that saved my life!”

So wear your seat belts, kids . . . and make sure your friends do as well.

The life you save may be your own.