Talent Show!

My little Beyonce was awesome. They wore oversized white t-shirts with the collars cut out (a la Flashdance), jeans and saucy little hats with one side flipped up in a jaunty manner. Beyonce's was fuzzy and baby blue. I'm sure there's a name for those kind of hats, but I am clueless. I'm all about the shoes, hate most hats. Though I love my Icelandic wool hat from Spanky and all my baseball and bucket hats. Yeah, fashion plate, that is me.* Anyway, back to Beyonce. They did an adorable little hip-hop dance and there was much cheering. The best was when she saw me walk in and give me a big smile and ran and gave me a big hug. Made my night. Probably made my week actually. And apparently she also ran and told her mom that her Reading Buddy was here. And her friend (who sometimes joins us when her reading buddy bails) gave me a big hug as well. Her hat was fuzzy and pink. Awesome. So cute. I also got to meet her dad and talked to her mom as well whom I've met a few times. Really sweet people. Her Mom kept thanking me for coming. It seemed odd. I can't imagine not going. She was so excited about it, the school is a 10 minute walk from my office and it wasn't more than an hour and a half of my time. No brainer to me. But I am glad that Beyonce's Mom seems to like me.

The rest of the show was a kick. There were two other dancing groups (both of which included at least a bit of dancing to Sean Paul's Get Busy - hee) and lots of singing. And of COURSE a couple little girls singing My Heart Will Go On. This is the song that started the giggling fit which got my cousin Sassy and I in trouble at a talent show in Salem years ago. The girls actually didn't do a bad job on it, but I hate Celine and that movie and that song...

It was weird though. I felt a little out of place. Everyone else seemed to know each other and be chatting and laid back and all that. It was kinda like a little social hour between performances. And apparently I don't look like a NYC public school student, parent or teacher. But everyone was really sweet and polite. And it was a fun time. I just hope the pictures turned out. Y'all should just see her in her cute little hat.

My biological clock just started I think. Ooops.

*Sidenote: Did any of y'all have those fashion plate imprinting things as kids. Where you'd have the different plates with the heads, torsos, legs, feet of various women/outfits and could put them in combinations and then put paper over it and do a pencil rubbing to get a drawing of a girl that you could then color? I cannot remember what those were called. I LOVED mine and was totally anal retentive about my designing and coloring of these women/outfits. I loved this one girl with a short curly hairstyle that I always had to make strawberry blonde. And I would ONLY color with colored pencils because you couldn't get the subtlety needed with crayon or marker. I need help, don't I?

My parents are coming to visit and I'm freaking myself out. I want to clean everything perfectly but I don't have time for everything I want to do and so I do nothing. Well, not nothing, but still. Spanky (formerly a C friend who will totally complain about this nickname) tried to remind me that my parents will still love me if the catbox isn't cleaned, but no. Not Dad. A gross catbox will make him walk. He'll still love me if the vacuuming isn't done (though I'll have to hear about it forever) but the catbox will send him running for the hills. So that's the must do for tonight. And the rest I can probably do while they're here, with help even. I'm really looking forward to the visit. Three whole work-free days with the folks to chill, do home improvements, do a little sightseeing, eat most of the two thousand pounds of food I bought, finally set up my computer and iPod (yes, I AM the laziest woman alive, thanks for asking), things like that. I'm just looking forward to some family time.

I lost my first grandparent (not counting Grandma Carol whom I lost before I was even born) around this time six years ago. Nana. She didn't like mourning so I think she planned dying in the South around Mardi Gras. So the family would party some. And we did. And we missed her like hell. And my Papaw went a few years later. And then my Bz. And just this past Spring I lost Grandpa John. And right now Mom is down in Alabama basically saying goodbye to my great-aunt, Nana's sister. And it kinda hurts. Last night was really hard, thinking about it all. I've been so blessed to have a wonderful family that I'm close to, to have known six grandparents for the first 23 years of my life (therefore getting to know them all as people and not just awesome hug givers), to still have two wonderful grandmothers left at age 29, to have parents who are good to me and with me and with each other and happy. How lucky am I? But I guess sometimes, around this time of year, around the first of November and probably around Easter now, I just wish I were luckier. I wish that Nana could meet my children and love them like she loved me. I wish Grandpa John were around to pass judgment on my potential husband if I ever decide to go that route (and to nag me constantly if I don't). I wish Papaw were around to say "Mandy" in that wonderful, bursting voice of his. I wish Bz could take my money at cards still and tell me about how many mullet he caught. I wish Tommy and Mamaw could live forever. And my parents too. I just wish we were all together still. You know? And I have to stop this, because crying at work just isn't something I do and I'm not going to start today.

I feel kinda strange being so open and honest about my feelings in this thing, a freakin' blog open to the world. It's not something I'm comfortable doing at all really. Not outside the safety and security of my family. But it's something I'm trying out. We'll see if it works. If not I'll just go back to blabbing about the kitty litter. I know y'all love hearing about the kitty litter. Sex-ay!

I ordered about three thousand pounds of food from Fresh Direct which arrived last night. About a thousand pounds of that just went to kitty litter, but even so, two thousand pounds of food is quite a lot of food, and it barely fit into my kitchen. My fridge is crying to me. Crying. My poor adorable fridge (it really is a cute appliance with the sassy blue accents). I was wondering how I would eat it all, but then I remembered my folks will be here this weekend and we can get rid of at least the fresher stuff. And I got lots of the little snacky things Dad loves like hummus and potato salad and cheeses. Woo. And cokes for my Mom. Yeah, I'm a wild woman. Y'all are so jealous of my rock star life. Even Rock Star N** (actually, let's start going with the nickname thing here and dub her Rock Star Fran, oh yeah. Fran, if you don't like it, give me a holla') is jealous of my rock star life.

Speaking of the exciting things in my life, you are going to be soooo jealous when you hear about my Thursday plans. I'm going to a grade school talent show. Yes, I am the coolest woman y'all know. My little reading buddy (let's call her Beyonce*) and seven of her buddies will be doing a dance in this talent show and I'm going to support her because she's awesome. And apparently they all dance better than the actual Beyonce. And there will be special outfits. How can you say no to that? You just can't. It's impossible. And so I will go and watch lots of grade schoolers sing and dance and such because I adore my Beyonce. I think the dance is going to be to Baby Boy, but I'm not sure as I don't watch the MTV like I used to. Like when I was in grade school. Hee. MTV is sooooo 6th grade!

Beyonce (the reading buddy) is awesome. We do math together. What is better than doing math with a 9 year old girl once a week? Nothing. I'm sure things are different (better?) than when I was in grade school math class, but I'm so all over encouraging math and science interest in girls in school. It still seems like such a boy dominated and encouraged field. So we read some and do math some. She's pretty bright. She hates division still (oh how I remember those days) but loves subtraction and multiplication. We've been reading E's father's book (let's call E Charlotte, shall we?) and he mentions age a lot so that sets off more math. How much older than Suzanne or Miss Blanche is Mr. Boots? If I lived as long as Mr. Boots's father, how much longer do I have to live? Yesterday we figured out how old I was when Beyonce was born and when her brother was born and how old her mother was when I was born. Then we had to have a lecture about 39 not being old and only 80 being old and how her mother has about 51 years before she's old... There isn't so much math when we read the Mary-Kate and Ashley mysteries (books a friend gave me for reasons to embarrassing to discuss), but we DO count the number of times Mary-Kate says "whoa" in the one with the snowmonster. So that is something. Mary-Kate really needs to stop it with the whoas, let me tell you.

*I know Beyonce has an accent on her last e, but this blog won't let me do it. I tried.

Apparently Vegas in two weeks just wasn't enough for me. I was dragged (kicking and screaming) to Mohegan Sun on Saturday and forced to gamble. It was horrible. Actually, it was kind of depressing. They only had TWO Elvis slot machines. Really, there's no joy in slots for me unless I have the chance of getting an Elvis video clip or getting my picture taken by the Family Feud nickel slots. Vegas is way cooler than the casinos of Connecticut.

Okay, so it ended up being a lot of fun. Free drink (only one alas), pizza and big beer at Lucky's Lounge (Vegas style, my ass!), wandering, mocking, good times. Sadly I missed E's birthday party, though. This happened the LAST time I was supposed to go to a party of hers. Not the gambling, but the being in CT too long after a board meeting. She's just gotta start planning better with these parties. 'Cause you know it's not really a party without me. Of course, it could also be another E's fault. I missed D's birthday party a while back because I was hanging with him so I don't know. I think between CT and the other E, there was just no chance I was making E1's party and I should've admitted that up front.

I really need to get nicknames for everyone I think. Too many Es and Ks in my world. And Bs. And Ss. Ugh. Anyone in my life want a particular nickname?

Sorry this one isn't so interesting. Not in much of a writing mood. Gambling obviously sucks away my creative juices.

Ew.