quick! put it together!

A quick update. The Caps won their first round series in seven games and there’s much happiness about the Metro area mixed with the knowledge that the Penguins are up next. I’m newer to D.C. but Washington and Pittsburgh sports fans (particularly hockey fans) despised each other. This is real border war stuff. The biggest stars in the NHL will be clashing over the next week to ten days; I think I’m ready.

There is a herd of transport involving G this evening. He’s due at the public library at about 5:30pm to put his Bionicle collection – actually, his own Bionicle creations built from the six million parts he owns – prominently on display in a fancy display case.* After that exhibit I’m running him to drama lessons (just he and fifteen cackling girls in the club) and finally to Gungfo lessons to finish the day. I don’t know how I got roped into being the suburban “soccer mom” dragging kids all over town in the Mercedes wagon. It’s really quite embarrassing. Sure, I offered to do it while X meets up with folks for Happy Hour after work but that doesn’t mean I can’t complain loudly.

The boys have been hired to walk and play with the dog of the former occupant of our house; he’s only moved down the street. I think he’s giving them $10 a day for the five days they’ll be working and all I can see in their eyes are spinning slot machine wheels and thoughts of new video games. I suppose I was like that when I took over some paper route that my brother had taken as a substitute and then passed on to me. Back then, I think I might have gotten $10 for an entire week – certainly enough to buy a whole box of football cards down at the Rexall.

We got a blast from a furnace front earlier this week and the weather was way too hot – just a warning about summer, I guess. It’s been rain and low 70s for the last few days so I’m much happier.

Nothing else on the horizon right now; at least not anything I can remember.

*Last minute development: Apparently the library has double-booked the display case and some five-year-old punk is already there with his “cars”. I told X to let them know that all they needed to do was walk over and tell the kid to pick up his stuff and head right on home. Easy enough, right? X said that what they really asked her was if, being the older and more mature entrant, G wouldn’t mind waiting until a later time for his shot at glory. Well, I don’t know…what does a five-year-old care. Fine.

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