If the last posting was a bit vague, apologies for the confusion. Ethel Merman couldn't possibly have killed a television: her spirit is far too benevolent a force (she's been dead for more than 20 years, which would also make it difficult for her even to wound an appliance). It just happened that the last thing I'd watched on my husband's 54" monster TV was "There's No Business Like Show Business." Later that evening, the sound no longer worked. Ted attributed the death to La Merman's iron lungs.
Through a bizarre series of events (which I shall omit for the sake of brevity), the sound has since returned. See? Ethel only encouraged the TV to take a nice long rest. Nonetheless, the money we earmarked to buy a new TV this weekend is now in an account where it will rest and grow until which time the Big Guy actually kicks the bucket.
While the TV vacation took place, Andrew was being graduated* from high school. The rain -- which drenched Friday and returned Saturday evening -- managed to staunch itself long enough for a dry ceremony. The only real waterworks were from me (and, I suspect, numerous other sentimental relatives). I didn't cry too much, although it was hard to watch three of his classmates stand up to be recognized for going into the military. Especially after the principal spoke of how the class bonded on September 11, 2001 -- mere weeks after starting as Freshmen.
Andrew completed his high school career as a National Honor Society student. He sang the national anthem with a small choir during the ceremony, and he earned two scholarships. He was also a state champion shotputter. He'll spend the summer working like a madman at Sears to make more money for college. He's a good egg, and I'm proud of him (as if I had anything to do with his upbringing).
Andrew (center, with light blue collar) processing to his graduation
In other news of progress with the young ones in my life, Woodle is adapting well. There are still occasional, well, let's call them misunderstandings. But the volume is slowly coming down on those confrontations. He is no longer hiding all day long and just coming out in the evening. He's with us in the morning while we get ready. He's right at the door when we get home. He's even made himself comfortable on our bed -- which has been slightly challenging, given that Milo, Sadie, and Schmoo all have appointed spots there. Is there anything bigger than a king size bed?
Through a bizarre series of events (which I shall omit for the sake of brevity), the sound has since returned. See? Ethel only encouraged the TV to take a nice long rest. Nonetheless, the money we earmarked to buy a new TV this weekend is now in an account where it will rest and grow until which time the Big Guy actually kicks the bucket.
While the TV vacation took place, Andrew was being graduated* from high school. The rain -- which drenched Friday and returned Saturday evening -- managed to staunch itself long enough for a dry ceremony. The only real waterworks were from me (and, I suspect, numerous other sentimental relatives). I didn't cry too much, although it was hard to watch three of his classmates stand up to be recognized for going into the military. Especially after the principal spoke of how the class bonded on September 11, 2001 -- mere weeks after starting as Freshmen.
Andrew completed his high school career as a National Honor Society student. He sang the national anthem with a small choir during the ceremony, and he earned two scholarships. He was also a state champion shotputter. He'll spend the summer working like a madman at Sears to make more money for college. He's a good egg, and I'm proud of him (as if I had anything to do with his upbringing).
Andrew (center, with light blue collar) processing to his graduation
In other news of progress with the young ones in my life, Woodle is adapting well. There are still occasional, well, let's call them misunderstandings. But the volume is slowly coming down on those confrontations. He is no longer hiding all day long and just coming out in the evening. He's with us in the morning while we get ready. He's right at the door when we get home. He's even made himself comfortable on our bed -- which has been slightly challenging, given that Milo, Sadie, and Schmoo all have appointed spots there. Is there anything bigger than a king size bed?
My last picture of the night. I was working from home this evening, and Woodle decided to help me. Milo does this on a regular basis, although he's good about spending most of the time on his desktop afghan. Woodle is much more persistent. He sits between me and the keyboard, climbs up my shoulder and stays there for long periods of time, and circles all the equipment (printer, CPU, etc.) to get attention.
I was forced to remove a box of tissues and a stack of mail to make room for him to sit to the left of the keyboard while I worked. Before I did that, I managed to get a picture of him with my make-up mirror. I couldn't capture him actually looking at himself in the magnified side (which he did several times), but this is still a funny picture.
Woodle preens
It's so time for bed. As Tigger says, "ta ta for now!"
* Grammar lesson of the day: "Graduate" is a transitive verb, which means it must have a direct object. Therefore, a person does not graduate; he is graduated (i.e. the school performs the action of the verb upon him).
No comments:
Post a Comment