days of 'ute

X and the boys headed over to the elementary school book sale this evening after dinner. The Eleven had dinner as normal folk do; the boys were off at a friend's house until the last gasp. They came piling through the door with bikes and big, red, sweaty faces at the last toll of the bell. I had imagined the book fair being one of those events where Debbie and Julie from South Arlington (or West Dummerston) show up at a school with racks of crappy volumes sold as if they were Avon. I think it's one of the those home businesses that's sweeping the nation; mini-vans of off-sale books. They're never anything anyone would want to buy, but kids seem to love the junk masquerading as a 'book fair'. I was wrong about this one. It was actually the school parents donating books that were sold to other parents and kids to benefit the school*. Great idea. (As an aside, they didn't want books that no one would buy which X took to mean that no one would want the Tax Code volume from her class this semester. I told her that my father would love the tax code and so I'm mailing it to him this weekend...she doesn't really get us.) Anyway, back to the chronology. They all pile back into the apartment with a sack full of goods and I immediately think/say (as does her father), what did you got for me? Turns out she's got three old (circa 1970s) paperback Doonesbury collections. She's well-versed in D'bury because that's all the WonderTwins could find to read after finishing every other book in the Bernardston house back in 1970s. We glanced through them and realized that the entire Nixon/Haig situation is timeless; substitute Bush/Gonzales and it's just as funny now as it was then.

Cereal. You knew it was only a matter of time before I got to cereal. H wanted to know why the 'one bowl of cereal per day' rule exists; I referred him to the Queen. The Queen said "because", to which H responded, "You can't just make up a rule for no reason." The poor, gentle soul of the 11-year old. The cereal around this pad is actually somewhat nutritious. Way back in the Omaha of my youth, the stash was more likely to be Lucky Charms, King Vitamin, Fruity and Cocoa Pebbles, and Honeycomb. Time was tight in the morning, people had junior high school and secretarying to attend to, but as long as we had some orange juice and a slice of cheese on the way out the door, we were golden. My health has been very good throughout my life and I'm perfectly happy to place the golden plaque of good vibes on the shoulders of juice and good old American cheese. Formage!

It looks like L. starts school in mid-August and will miss the trip to Stowe at the end of the month. Sarah also starts ASU early in Auguest so she's out of the picture. I never thought it could be so hard to find someone to come to Vermont and hang around in the extra bedroom.

T.

* I vaguely remember X giving me the lowdown on the fair. Maybe this is why she just smiled at my Serbia and/or Rwanda genocide books, the volumes of Pax Britannica, Churchill's history of WWII, or my Bury Me Standing Roma gypies saga. What? I'm not fun?