My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

So Much Depends On...Old White Men


Ah ‘tis exciting times in the Freshhell Household. Despite Red’s little flirt with ringworm (jeez, you’d think I was some kinda trailer trash housewife or something. I mean, what’s next, pinworm? Rickets?) that cleared up with a little jock itch medication, and Dusty’s weird five minute bout with “blobbery shapes” that rendered her sightless and nauseous (low blood sugar?), we are looking quite forward to Dusty’s first dance recital tomorrow.

She will be a fairy. But anything beyond that bit of information is Highly Classified. All the family (all but one aunt - for SHAME, R!) will be present for this event. Hopefully, various family members WHO OWN DIGITAL CAMERAS (hint, hint) will bring them so I can post photos of my Young Fairy to flickr next week rather than a drawn-out month long process where I finish my roll of film, have it developed, see whether I took any pictures worth sharing, load the okay photos into my new laptop (that is still sitting in its box) and THEN post them to flickr.

Cor blimey! Why is everything so difficult and multi-staged? Didn’t Barbie say, “Life sucks!” Or, was she talking about math? Same thing, really.

Anyway, after the dance recital we will begin to prepare ourselves for the beach. THE BEACH! Three days in a small oceanfront cottage that only cost a month’s mortgage payment. Sweet! But, yes, it is truly sweet because the Freshhell Household is all about the beach. In fact, when we arrived there last year, the ocean air had such an effect on Red that she began to spontaneously walk – at eleven months – the minute she crossed the threshold. She’s been a bit of a terror ever since.

Perhaps this year she’ll begin to talk in sentences and quote Wordsworth or William Carlos Williams. If I hear the phrases, “red wheelbarrow” and “the white chickens,” I might run and hide, so fearful will I be of her Mensa-ness. I will be without any form of Internet connection during our stay so I’ll have to let you know if Red becomes a Poetry Genius when I return.

We will also celebrate my husband’s 43rd birthday. I hope to bake a decent cake with beach house pots and pans. He likes white cake with chocolate icing. Which is acceptable but mine better be all chocolate. I’m just saying.

But! Today is Trustee Day and my ass is already being kicked with 11th hour requests. I have the joy of spending the entire afternoon in a board room looking at a group of old white men sitting around a table making inside jokes and being all exclusive and shit. It’s times like these that make my feminist hackles raise up. Fun times.

I’ll leave you with this Patented Dusty Quote:

“Who the boss of the world?”

“Nobody. Well, some people think that’s what God is.”

“That’s not real,” Dusty replies dismissively.

“Other people invented Mother Nature.”

“What if trees were the boss of the world?”

“The world would be a very different place.”

“I think clouds are the boss. They rain whenever they want.”

Y’all have a good weekend, hear?


10:35 a.m. ::
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