Hey! I found my debit card! Where? On the kitchen counter, nestled in the folds of the pool party request form that I never used. It flew out onto the floor when I sorted through the pile of papers that had been mocking me from the counter for days now. I lost that card two weeks ago, I think.

I spent this afternoon pondering my son’s football jersey, the blue one he wears for practice. Over the weekend, I heard my husband say, “Put your jersey in the laundry room” and so that’s where I looked first. I looked through the baskets of folded laundry first, thinking maybe I didn’t notice folding it. I picked through the dirty laundry, piece by piece. Twice. Three times. I looked under his bed.

I asked my son, “Where’d you put your jersey?” And he said, “In the basket in the laundry room.” It was not there, no matter how many times I looked through the basket.

No jersey. I called my husband for advice and left a message. When he called me back, I stood and wandered with the phone to the living room . . . I looked down at two unread, still rolled-up newspapers and voila! The jersey! Still dirty, but present and accounted for.

Oh! And the missing Nintendo DS? (Did I mention that back in August?) Found. Under the 10-year old’s bed.

The effort of losing and finding things is wearing me out. I am losing my mind which is hard to do considering I carry it around in my skull at all times.

My family moved to the Puget Sound region in 1969. And yet, yesterday was the first time I’d ever been to Husky Stadium to watch the University of Washington’s football team play.

Our neighbor offered us two tickets to the Husky vs. OU game only hours before the game began. My husband absolutely wanted to go to the game and thus began the mad telephoning–first to find a friend to take with him to the game, then to find a babysitter so we could go together. At last, we took advantage found friends willing to take our youngest children for the afternoon and evening. (We left out teenagers at home. While they are 15, we are not comfortable putting them in charge of the two younger children.)

We left our house at 3 p.m. and immediately ran into legendary Seattle-area traffic. By 4:15 p.m, we were close to the Stadium, driving cautiously on side streets, trying not to snap at each other as we searched for a parking place. We managed to find a university-run lot and paid $25 for the privilege of sliding our van into a narrow parking space. Then we hurried to the stadium.

Twenty-five minutes from the time we left our car, we were perched high in the stands, only four rows from the top. (That is a lot of steps, by the way.)

And we were surrounded by Sooners fans, too.  (Our friends hail from Oklahoma and are our neighbors thanks to the military.)  The Sooner fans whooped and hollered while we shook our heads in dismay for the Huskies were no match for the number three ranked Sooners. The Huskies haven’t lost that badly at home since 1929, or so I heard. (Final score: 55 to 14.)

The stadium, though, is located on the shores of Lake Washington, so we saw boats bobbing in the blue waters of the lake to our left. To the right, the Olympic mountains lined the horizon. Not a cloud hung in the sky; only a full moon floated above Seattle. So, a lovely time was had by all, if you don’t take into account the lost football game.

(If you click it, this picture will magically enlarge. And then, you’ll be at my Flickr photostream. Don’t drown!)

My 10-year old and husband were at football practice. My teenagers went to their friends’ house for the night. My 6-year old daughter invited herself over to the neighbor’s house to play for an hour.

I was alone! In my house! My dream come true (funny how your dreams change as you age). . .

. . . and so what did I do with this precious time?

I put away four loads of laundry and ironed four pairs of pants for my husband. I ate a salad for dinner while watching politics on television. And then suddenly I was no longer alone. Drat.

Is anybody reading anything good? I’ve started Mark Helprin’s Freddy and Fredericka, but I haven’t gotten beyond the first chapter. I try to keep track of my reading on Librarything.com. (It’s free, though I probably should upgrade one day.)

I just spent thirty minutes updating my Librarything.com account and trying to remember what I’ve read recently. I will regret that in the morning!

In previous years, my husband has been the designated car-pool driver. This year, I am it. Her. Whatever. My neighbor and I share duties. Last week, she told me that I was responsible for Wednesdays and Fridays. On Friday, I left my computer (where I work from noon until 5 p.m.) to pick up the kids. When I got there, I discovered she’s already picked them up.

Today, I am working and get a phone call at 3:35 p.m. My son was calling from school, wondering if someone was coming to pick them up. They’d been waiting since 3:00 p.m. Apparently, that someone was me. Even though it wasn’t my day. So I thought.

My daughter and I climbed into my giant green van. It’s only a five minute drive to the school under normal circumstances. Today was abnormal. Today, cars idled on the street I needed to cross. The side street was backed up about fifteen cars because no one could turn on the cross street because the cars weren’t moving. I believe there was a paving projects some miles up the road.

It was kind of like a river without a bridge. No way to cross.

So, I backed up my huge van, turned around and parked a few blocks over. I decided it would be quicker to walk across that street that to try to drive across it. I’m guessing that my daughter and I walked about a mile round-trip to pick up the boys. The sun was hot. I was away from my desk, from my job. And it wasn’t even my day to pick up the kids!

What should have taken less than fifteen minutes ended up taking over thirty. Forty-five? Who knows?

My neighbor told me later that her days to work are Monday and Wednesday. (Have I lost my mind? She told me differently and I marked my calendar accordingly not so long ago!) I hope we can get this whole car-pool thing figured out eventually.

And now, for the Pet Peeve of the Day: I am peeved when I find multiple open containers of the same item in my fridge. I don’t want to see two open gallons of milk, true. But much worse is when I find two open containers of mayonnaise (HEY, CHECK THE FRIDGE BEFORE YOU OPEN A NEW ONE!) or two Costco-sized containers of mustard–which is exactly what you’ll find in my fridge at this very moment.

I hate that almost as much as driving car-pool.

What’s your Pet Peeve of the Day?

Cotton Candy

Originally uploaded by Mel 128

You can do it at a trot, you can do it at a gallop; you can do it real slow so your heart don’t palpitate . . . just don’t be late.  Do the Puyallup.

If you’re from around here, you know exactly what I’m talking about.  That’s right!  The Western Washington Fair.

We skipped church this morning (oh, the glories of having a non-pastor husband!) and arrived at the fairgrounds shortly after 10:00 a.m.  The skies were still cloudy, the air chilly, and the crowds hadn’t quite converged.  We split up, tackling rides first.  My husband took our 6-year old and I went with our 10-year old.  (We left the fair-hating teenagers at home.)

We rode two roller-coasters and I watched while he rode a few other spinning-type rides.  By the time we met up with my husband and daughter at noon, the sun had emerged.  After we ate lunch (Krusty Pups for the kids, burgers for us and curly fries all around!) I saw on the schedule that the rodeo was about to begin.  I suggested to my dearly beloved that he should go and watch it at the Grandstand and so he did.  The kids and I wandered around, searching rather aimlessly for the petting zoo place.  (We found it eventually by following the green line on the pavement.)
Oh, and guess what their favorite thing was?  The escalator.  We might need to get out more.

Also, we thoroughly enjoyed the monkey show.

They each won a prize or two from those ridiculous games.  My husband found us after his rodeo extravaganza.  Then each child had enough tickets for one more ride and by 4 p.m., we were home again.

(While waiting for the sky-ride, my daughter gave me a giant hug around the middle and said, “Mom, you’re squishy.”  I’m pretty sure I saw the guy in front of me smirk.)

I’ve been going to the Puyallup (pronounced pew-al-up) Fair since I was a little girl.  I love being able to take my own kids–and look forward to the day when i can actually tour the exhibition halls containing the quilts and prize-winning baked goods without a child pulling my hand and begging to go find cotton candy.  Then again, I’ll miss those sticky little hands.  Or will I?

Ah, my work-week, the official one that results in a paycheck, has ended.  And so, the laundry is piled up (clean and folded, mostly, except for the towels), the family room floor needs to be vacuumed and I am wiped out.

But tomorrow I’m taking my daughter garage-saling.  (Normal I am opposed to nouning verbs . . ha ha, I mean, turning nouns into verbs, but is there a better, more concise way to express going to garage sales than “garage saling”?)  Anyway, off we go to search through other people’s discards for treasures while my husband takes my 10-year old to his football game.  (Is it bad that I don’t go to all his football games?  Don’t answer.  Somehow, I feel no guilt about that.)

Now that school has started, the weather has turned astonishingly gorgeous.  September in the Pacific Northwest makes up for January.  And February.

My daughter seems to like kindergarten, aside from the fact that she is STARVING to death.  She eats breakfat, but despite the mid-morning snack, when I pick her up she says, “I don’t like school.”  And I say, “Why?” and she says, “Because I am so hungry!”  Clearly, we need to beef up her breakfast.  Literally.  Maybe I should broil a steak to go with her whole-wheat waffle.  Okay, maybe just a piece of string cheese.

Today was the day. The first day of kindergarten for my youngest child, my only daughter, my blond curly-headed girl. She was so ready. She wore her new school t-shirt and jeans. We arrived at the school just in time for the opening assembly they have each morning. I escorted her to her teacher and the space her kindergarten class occupies at the back of the Multi-Purpose Room. She didn’t even tell me good-bye.

But that’s because I wouldn’t leave. Oh no. I intended to follow her to the classroom, to hand over a giant stash of Lincoln Logs, to take a picture and to hug her good-bye. Which I did. A group of us kindergarten-parents followed the line of kindergarten students as they followed Mrs. F.

One of the twins in the class was crying. Her mother held her, trying to convince her that Kindergarten Is Fun. My daughter hung up her backpack and hugged me good-bye with such nonchalance I thought she might be thirteen, not six.

I did not shed one tear. I was so happy! So very very happy that she was so okay about going to school. I went home, cleaned the house a little, then went to a store to buy math curriculum for my boys. My husband met me and then I followed him to his office. (I hadn’t been there yet.) Then, on to Kinko’s to make copies and it was already time to pick up my baby girl from school.

The class was following the teachers down the sidewalk like ducklings . . . my daughter saw me and would have crossed the parking lot by herself, but the teacher cautioned her. She said, “Grace had a nice first day!” as she continued on with the other ducklings, heading for the bus. My daughter said, “I want to ride the bus.”

Once inside the van, she was so quiet. She finally said, “I don’t like school.”

WHAT?

After much prying, I believe I know why she said that. She didn’t think it was as fun as she expected, and, even worse, the kindergarteners are not allowed to play on the “big monkeybars” playground. She found this so unfair.

Later, she did tell me that she did not cry, that she was quiet when she was supposed to be quiet and spoke when she was supposed to speak. I only hope that she begins to find kindergarten fun. Please, please, please, Grace, love kindergarten. I’m begging you.

* * *

My freezer gasket is defective. I ordered a replacement, because a few years ago, when I called a repairman it cost a fortune. I thought ordering the part and having someone (cheap!) replace it made sense. Only the cardboard holding the replacement part sat in the living room so long that I suspect my husband accidentally threw it away. So, months later, he ordered a new part, only it wasn’t the right part at all but a tray of some sort. I ordered another replacement part and our friend came to fix it today, only it was the wrong part. Turns out I had ordered the gasket for the refrigerator door rather than the freezer door and I did this because the parts diagram pictures the refrigerator parts on the bottom of the page and the freezer parts on the top but my freezer IN REAL LIFE is on the bottom and I somehow assumed that the picture resembled real life. Sort of.

Oh, and did I mention that on Labor Day, my son came inside to inform me that we had a fountain in our yard springing from the water meter? Yeah, a pipe sprung a leak. How very convenient. But the town employee who came to check it graciously fixed it even though the pipe broke on our side of the meter and was, therefore, our responsibility. (Shhh, that’s our little secret.)

* * *

BIG SHOCK: The teenagers were both awake before 9 a.m., working on their school work. I could not believe it.

. . . and that ends our edition of today’s blog news here at Mel’s house.

Six years ago, my baby girl was born on Labor Day.  I will forever be amused by the fact that I labored on Labor Day.  I labored at home, as a matter of fact, for six hours, most of it in denial that I was really in labor.  She was born only two hours after the midwife arrived and ten minutes before my husband arrived.  Oops.

She starts school tomorrow.  Kindergarten.  My last child is starting kindergarten.  She is super-enthusiastic, which is a miracle considering that a year ago she informed me she was Never Going to School.  I cried when I dropped my other children off at kindergarten, even though each time I had another baby at home to occupy me.  This time, I have no other babies at home, only sometimes surly teenagers.  I feel very matter-of-fact about kindergarten and FREE TIME, but I am also aware that I might fall completely apart and have to be wheeled out on a stretcher.

Speaking of which, when I left my neighborhood today, the road was blocked by two police cars, an aid car and a fire-truck.  I have no idea what happened, but the occupants of the house are older, so perhaps it was an age-related health scare.  I don’t know those neighbors at all, but I am so curious.

Sunday, after church, we went to the Woodland Park Zoo.  One of my teenagers was very resistant to the idea of the zoo, but during the actual outing, he appeared to be having fun.  I hadn’t been to that zoo in 10 years.  I thought it was much-improved, quite beautiful.  The weather was perfect and the day was lovely, even though half the family wished they were at home, watching television.  “You have to do things so you have memories to look back on,” I told them all over lunch.

We have a family membership now, so they will all have to go again.  Ha ha ha.

Grace’s party yesterday was at the pool.  I took a chance because the weather is so iffy around here, but it turned out nice.  (No one else was at the pool, either, but us.)  I would post some pictures, but my blog is still not speaking to my camera for reasons unknown to me.

I must sleep now for tomorrow I will have the morning to myself.  But first, I will have to wake up early and get the kids off to school.  For the first time in fifteen years, I will not have a little person at home with me.  Cue the hysterical crying laughter.  Or something.