After waking my granddaughter up for school for the third time this morning, the thought occurred to me that wolf spiders might have the right idea about eating their young. When I had knocked on the door and introduced a marching band to the mix on the fourth run, she said “what?”. What? OMG. Didn’t I already go through this once in a lifetime? Whaaaaaaat am I doing here again?
Teenagers are the most exasperating beings. In an instant they can go from enthusiastic and full of verve to grumpy and uncommunicative and then just when you’re getting irritated they do a switchback and give you a hug. It’s “I love you” at 5:00, at 5:15 you get a look as if they just realized you’d never had an original thought, and by 5:30 they’re back to completely ignoring you again and working their fingers on the keyboard. After deep consideration, I believe I am not mature enough for the job and would like to rescind my application until further notice.
I know I was a teenager once, and I remember my mother eying me as if contemplating how many years she’d get for holding my head under water until I turned blue, and whether or not it would be worth it, but I have already paid my dues with my two pirates and don’t remember to agreeing to run for a second term. Oh, yes I did, but surely there’s a built-in insanity clause somewhere in the fine print.
Truthfully, she’s a very good girl and can’t help the fact that she’s fourteen. Maybe there should be a large compound where they are confined on the eve of their thirteenth birthdays and allowed to commune among their own until they’re fully grown. Not to betray my sex, but in my experience girls are worse than boys. To qualify, I am speaking only in terms of the years between fourteen and eighteen. After that the boys assume a quick and steady lead.
After dropping her off at her bus stop this morning my other half and I headed down the hill to an appointment. On the way down the sky was gloomy, but on coming out of our appointment it had become downright ominous. A bolt of lightning appeared to touch down on the ground directly behind our car which got me quickly buckled in my seatbelt. Intellectually I know being in the car is the safest place to be because the metal frame absorbs a lightening hit and the rubber tires act as grounds. Still, somewhere in the back of my mind I keep remembering my car is a large piece of molded metal which I find a bit unsettling around electricity.
As we pulled out of the parking lot the sky became positively black and with an eardrum shattering crash of thunder opened up the floodgates and released its burden. I had one more stop at the vet to exchange some flea treatments on the way home. It seems they had given us canine instead of feline, so we parked as close to the front door as possible and I ran like hell towards the door. Within two seconds I was totally drenched and my shoes were actually bubbling on the top by the time I reached the vet’s lobby. Swell. Three assistants were up front watching the storm and on seeing me broke into laughter. It’s always reassuring to know that you look so ridiculous as to make people laugh at you on sight. To add insult to injury it seemed we had the right flea treatments they were just in the wrong jackets. Beam me up Scotty, and I’m not kidding this time.
By the time I turned back toward the door the hail started. Big, white chunks of it barreling down at the speed of light. Opening the door I pushed forward in the wind and my other half pulled up just as I was about to take flight. Pulling the door shut he looked at me and started to laugh. Really? Maybe I should get an act going and hit the circuit. When I got home and looked in the mirror, I started to laugh. My pants were soaked, my hair was all going to the left as if I’d stood in a wind tunnel and had dried that way. It wasn’t pretty I assure you. Even the cat hissed at me, and I did this for her the ungrateful wretch.
Today is Friday so school is out for two days. A friend is coming for a sleepover so life will be humming along with two young girls in the house. I must admit it imbues a nice youthful energy to my world with the endless supply of giggles and opening and closing of the refrigerator door. I had forgotten, or perhaps let it go out of self-preservation the amount of groceries a teen can account for in a given week. I have FoodMaxx on speed dial now, and the deli manager calls me by my first name and checks with his broker to see how their stock is doing every time my car parks in their lot.
Today I have thrown a slab of pig in my crockpot which is going to sacrifice itself for the good of the whole tonight and resurrect as pulled pork on a tasty bun. Again the rain is steadily streaking across the window as I write and a blanket of doom lies across the land. Sounds like a line from Wuthering Heights. Well, maybe I’m giving myself a little too much credit.
As the moving van is still hovering somewhere on the horizon I will resume my packing duties. Last night I actually dreamed I was packing and hoped that would get the job done but I notice the boxes are still sitting empty in the corner so apparently I do a better job when fully conscious.
Truly, this blue cheese dressing is ridiculously good. I could slap my face in it and roll. I don’t make it often because I would drink it with a straw. Let me know what you think. 🙂
Rich Bleu Cheese Dressing
1 cup sour cream
1 cup buttermilk
1 cup mayonnaise
1/2 onion, finely minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
1 Tbsp. Tabasco sauce
1 1/2 Tbsp. parsley flakes
4 oz. blue cheese, crumbled
Whisk all ingredients but blue cheese until smooth. Add cheese to mixture. Refrigerate until ready to serve.
2 Tbsp. Parmesan cheese, grated