It’s been a rambling sort of week. I’ve begun to wonder when it will end. Really. See, my week ends at 5 p.m. on Friday, unlike the calendar, on which the week technically ends on Saturday. In my brain, Saturday and Sunday are not really a part of “THE WEEK.” They’re completely separate except for one Saturday in January and one in July or August, when I have to work. And yes, I know Saturday and Sunday are known as the “weekend”, but that doesn’t make sense since according to the calendar, Sunday is the first day of the week. That would mean that we have a one-day weekend, which definitely doesn’t fit into my plans.
So…(I stuck that “so” in for Amy Romey since she thinks that she’s the only one who begins sentences with “so”)…I’ve decided to rename Saturday and Sunday. They are heretofore known as “FREE TIME”. Which isn’t exactly true, since I have to edit my students’ articles but for a basic snoop like me, that’s fun…not work.
As I said, it’s been a rambling sort of week, so I thought I’d better put record my thoughts before my telomeres are eaten away (see number 2 below).
1.) My husband told me today that he thinks that he and I are normal. I’m pretty sure our daughters think we’re not. I’m pretty sure we’re not. Since the cat and dog can’t speak, they don’t get to vote. Sorry Fred. 3-1. We win. You’re not normal and neither am I. This is one of the reasons we’ve been married for 30 years.
2.) Today I learned that it might be possible to restore my telomeres. Yours too. (Just because my dad was a biologist doesn’t mean I inherited his brain for all things scientific.) My brother, James, who is also not a scientist, but likes to throw these things at me now and then — just to see if I’m paying attention — told me today that recent testing on mice suggest that telomeres can be restored. See James, I WAS paying attention this time. If someone can restore my telomeres, I’ll donate to research. For those of you not familiar with this term, “they’re at the ends of our chromosomes, and they erode and disappear as we age.” Here’s the question: Would you please hurry up with the research and get this started before mine completely disintegrate? They’re going fast.
3.) My brother, James, also told me that the Feds have made yet another change to the financial reform. Why does this not surprise me? Are they bored? Was that 11,000 page document just not long enough already? But hey, I have my own financial guru/brother who will explain all of this to me…someday when he “finishes” his latest reform book update for his publisher and/or takes time out from figuring out what to plant next in his new greenhouse.
4.) At 54, I’m finally beginning to see what brothers are good for. A) They swoop in to visit and try to run faster than me; B) They e-mail jokes in the middle of the day — perfect timing for waking me up; C) They explain things like telomeres and financial reform and kangaroo rats; and D) They send me food and goat’s milk soap for Christmas. Yes, this is hint.
5.) Apparently Ike the dog is not a food snob. We were beginning to wonder why he wasn’t eating. My husband filled the cat dish in the basement yesterday and it was empty in less than 24 hours. He checked the litter box. Empty…except for the fresh kitty litter. Since the outdoor temp hit 20, Peaches the Queen has not budged from her perch so we know she has to use the litter box sooner or later. Hmmmm….LATER…Fred heads down to his basement office and hears telltale chomping. Ike looks up guiltily from the cat dish. If he starts meowing, we’re in trouble.
6.) A word of warning to all you parents who think your house will stay neat once your children leave home. It doesn’t work that way, especially if you have a dog. Instead of finding three pairs of shoes and a backpack randomly placed on the floor, there will be half-chewed stuffed animals and rawhides. In our case, there is almost always a ratty purple leg in the middle of the living room floor. At some point, the dog disconnected the leg from the stuffed animal, removed all of the stuffing (which he also left randomly strewn around the house). Now he drags the leg everywhere and drops it willy-nilly. Wonder if I could try the old trick of hiding “all-those-things-not-put-away” by two daughters? Would he learn to look for them in the basement stairway?
All rambling aside, it won’t be long now. “FREE TIME” will arrive, beginning with dinner not prepared by me. Lucky for me, one of those four “boys” has swooped in for a visit. Wonder if he brought presents? Wouldn’t that be a great start to the time-formerly-known-as-the-weekend?