Tuesday, September 04, 2012
JoJo cuts his own hair. Seriously. His Emotional Twin demands a monthly appointment at Hair Cuttery, or whatever it's called up at the Kroger shopping center. CW prefers a trendy establishment downtown, that's where Gina helps me out, driving him out there every couple of months. Both Chuy and Martin have let their hair grow right long this summer. I don't care what they do, as long as they act right. It's their hair after all.
So eight dogs wake up this morning, three can't have food or water, since midnight last night, because I am a responsible pet owner who doesn't want puppies to be tripping up my big feet. At 8ish, I'll load the three up for their big adventure and then allow the other five impatient ones their food and water.
I got to see an adorable Sharpei when I'd taken ten of my kids over to the Youth Group Cook-Out at their new youth pastor's house. When I returned to pick them all up, they were out playing basketball and appearing right grudgingly happy with this new man on the church pastoral staff.
He played college baseball, second base, this new man, Adam, therefore I'm already impressed. I like his pretty wife too, she's just super nice and has a great laugh.
I'm slowly beginning to breathe a sigh of relief, knowing how important a youth pastor can be in a kid's life, especially in fatherless children. Now that we're on our third youth pastor within two years, my already suspicious and resistant to attachment kids are understandably reluctant to believe this guy is gonna remain here for long.
With those ten gone, there was only Tabby, Nando and I at home for the evening. Tabby stayed in my office on Mathletics, a new math computer program in which her teacher can log in and determine how much time Tabby spent working on it, while Nando happily played video games without the Bubbas here dominating everything.
I wandered outside, walking around the house determining it's gonna take me many years to do all the necessary repairs that I've put off doing, due to the extraordinarily demanding life I've led for the past 25 years of adopting older children. It's a wonder the house doesn't list to one side.
Maybe it does. Maybe I can't see it, maybe my entire outlook is listing? Hard to tell, what with the amount of trauma I too have undergone along the way. Probably it's me that's listing, knocked off balance by all the illogic I've witnessed?
Stupid privet, probably the most invasive shrubby plant on Georgia's red clay earth, needed hacking away at, which I did with glee and gusto, symbolically demonstrating my deep need for change, for removing negative crap from my life. If only it were this easy, right? 100% humidity, I was sweat soaked and super happy.
I generally put off painting until it's winter, having to paint and repaint constantly, due to the normal - and I use that word loosely - demands placed upon our home by the often careless population - gets very old, but still needs to be done. I have several garden beds that are somplete and declared disaster areas, several that knock my socks off, and several that perked up considerably after we got over an hour's worth of rain yesterday, which might've been a record this entire summer.
Still vegan, two weeks in to it, still weigh exactly the same, apparently my love affair with cheese wasn't connected to my weight, but I do think my heart is probably better off without that fatty substance dominating my meals. I'm just doing this for as long as I feel like it, no pressure on me, no goal to be attained, my energy level remains high, I'm just seeing if it can be done by a girl like me.
This cup shaped funnel? I can't live without it. Nor without these peppers.