My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Now We Are Six


Dusty is six today. Six! And, because she is Dusty, she lost her sixth tooth last night while roughhousing with Red. So, not only did the Birthday Fairy come but so did the Tooth Fairy. Dusty’s big gifts were a guitar and tickets to see The Nutcracker next month. My husband took her to school today with cupcakes and juice for the class.

The in-laws were here over the weekend and we had Dusty’s birthday cake with them. It is chocolate (naturally) and I decorated it with the most bizarre looking flowers ever. When I was done I realized that these flowers grow only in Scribbletown and were imported from Mars. So that explains it. Or, at least that’s the story I’m telling rather than admit that I am the most retarded cake decorator on the planet. I took a few pictures and I’ll post them when I develop the film. You can decide which it is: that I should step away from icing or Scribbletown Flowers Forever!

What else? Thanksgiving was nice. A nice meal, pleasant conversation, pumpkin pie, as we all shared the dining room with about twelve boxes of my mother’s old tax records and estate records (my grandmother died in 1974; my grandfather in 1985) awaiting the shredding company.

And then my mother cornered me as I was leaving and tried to make me take a bunch of fat manilla envelopes full of crap she’d saved, including my 1975 Vacation Bible School certificate (now I can actually date the original stirrings of my atheism).

I said I didn’t want them. She wanted me to take them and if I didn’t want them, I could throw them away at my house. I said, no, I’m not taking your old crap home with me; I’m not throwing away your trash at my house. Whatever it is, I don’t want it. She knows how to perfectly infuriate me and create an unbelievable defensiveness that I'm not proud of but there you are.

I mean, here’s the right way to do it:

Mom calls me up: I found some things you might want, papers from school. I’m going to throw them away if you don’t want them so come by sometime soon and look through them.

Me: Okay, but, if I don’t get down there anytime soon, just pitch ‘em. Thanks.

Easy. You know? Here’s the wrong way:

Me: Bye! Thanks for a nice meal! We’ll see you soon!

Mom: Here! Take these envelopes of crap. If you don’t want them, throw them away but I need to get them out of my house!

Me: Just throw them away.

Mom: No! You take them home and throw them away!


Over the weekend, I quizzed Dusty on Scribbletown holiday preparations (and Red can now recognize Santa and says, “Santa!” so clearly they are busy at work over there). I’ll give you the scoop tomorrow.

Yesterday, my husband had to attend an all-day portfolio grading meeting so I took the girls to the school playground. Red now calls all slides and swings “whee” because that’s the sound you make on them.

And also: Dusty’s big on jokes these days. Here’s one she made up:

“Why was the skeleton made of bones?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Because he’s a skeleton! Ha ha ha!”



11:31 a.m. ::
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