Life in the parsonage, Wednesday afternoon edition: Cue Alice Cooper singing “School’s Out for Summer.” My niece just finished her first year of college (and she’s still only 17!) and wanted to hang at the lake with some friends. About noon, I headed over to my niece’s house to pick up her and the baby and drive them over here. The poor thing (my niece, not the baby) still doesn’t have a car (we had been lending her mine, which she wrecked a couple of months ago). They weren’t here long before her brother came over with his girlfriend, who also happens to be my niece’s BFF. At least I think they’re still BFFs. You see, I heard about that little juicing incident. My niece has been getting into this juicing/cleansing thing where she turns berries and peaches and gross stuff like turnips into juice, which is the only thing she consumes for days at a time. Apparently, she finally talked BFF into trying it with her, a juicing partner if you will. The only problem is that my niece’s friend likes to eat. A lot. (I can really appreciate this.) Friend went over to niece’s house, they drank a bunch of juice and my niece warned her friend not to go home and eat on top of it. Well, you know what happened, haha.
Which brings me to my nephews. Two of them live close by, and I must tell you, these twentysomething guys have stick-to-it-iveness that I cannot help but admire. I think I need to take a lesson from their perseverance. One of my nephews was out of work for many months after he was laid off from his job building trusses for new home construction. He was finally recalled last week, although he’s not too happy about the fact that they stuck him on the icky swing shift, meaning that he may never see his girlfriend again even though they live together. He’s just happy to have a paycheck again, though. My other nephew has been working loading trucks in a warehouse for months now, although they still consider him “seasonal.” Oh, and he works the lovely graveyard shift. Well, Saturday is his last night at work before he gets laid off again. This is the second time he’s been through this rigamarole. They’d rather keep laying off and recalling than taking on anyone permanently. So he’ll get unemployment until he gets called back a couple of months from now for more “seasonal” work. Bastards!
Warehouse nephew was over here today helping Homeless Guy #2 with his repair work on the church. I think he made three or four trips to the hardware store and Home Depot for supplies. At least one of those trips was to return items that they ended up not needing. While he was here working, his sister and her maybe-still-BFF took off for the lake, leaving Pastor Mom and Uncle Guacamole to watch Half Pint for, oh, seven hours or so.
I’m guessing that Little One wasn’t feeling too well, as she was particularly fussy today. We were lucky that she napped, if only for half an hour or so. The rest of the time, she was acting all weird and clingy. All of a sudden, she’d start crying for no apparent reason. I’ve seen it before, but it’s definitely not the norm for her.
With my wife gone for three days, I tried all our usual games and songs in an effort to keep Little One occupied and make things a little easier on Pastor Mom. Currently, we have the finger pointing game (she points at me and I respond by pointing at her, with accompanying excited oh-my-gosh facial expressions), the Boo game (discussed in a previous post), the color game (I name the colors of each of her hard plastic stacking cups and she repeats them back to me in a language that sounds vaguely like a cross between Japanese and Serbo-Croatian) and the bang toys together to make lots of noise and pretend it’s music game. Of course, there’s pretzels and chocolate milk (mama has taught her the sign language for “more”) and green beans to dump all over the couch and the floor. Then we have to love our stuffed animals, Eeyore and Blue Bear and Curious George and Elmo. And she has her kid videos on Pastor Mom’s phone while Sesame Street reruns blare from the big screen TV. We love the little rat to pieces, but mama couldn’t return from the lake soon enough today. Poor Pastor Mom was exhausted.
Homeless Guy #1 showed up over here again this evening, making it the three-nights-in-a-row hat trick. Possibly emboldened by scoring mini candy bars last night, he again asked for “sweets before I go to bed.” We didn’t have any more regular candy, but we gave him my stash of individually wrapped sugar-free suckers that have been sticking to the bottom of a jar for at least six months.
I don’t eat that crap anymore. If it’s not chocolate, who needs it?