It doesn't seem like it's been that long since I last wrote. But in the last 10 days or so, my little Punkin has had a great beginning to kindergarten-- and I think has learned that he does not actually ride the bus home from school. Pirate Jones is having a terrific time in 3rd grade-- not only learning cursive (which he's doing great at), but going beyond the keyboard's home row. They have typing class every day. And he loves it. Cool.
As a bonus, we got to experience serious small-town life over Labor Day weekend. Every year, this little town (much bigger now than it was when my grandparents lived here) has this agricultural celebration whose name I'd tell you but it pops right up on Google, so never mind. But there's a parade, a carnival, fireworks, a floral show, an art contest (in which this year my dad usurped his brother for the Honorable Mention prize), and all manner of very serious silliness. I don't have to tell you, the kids loved it. And I really enjoyed being able to sit out on the back steps in the cool evening air and watch the brilliant fireworks explode over the town park. Awesome stuff.
Meanwhile, I'm trying to keep up with my weekly deadlines, which isn't too hard given the slowdown in one project and the slacking writers on the other one. (OK, I need to get the whip cracking on them; I'm slacking, too.) I got my car registered on Wednesday (with both kids in tow, which ought to earn me a medal the way they were acting) and am feeling pretty good about that.
Thursday was an adventure. I walked the kids to school like I usually do, enjoying the cool weather and the sunshine, and was most of the way back when-- it sounds melodramatic-- I was attacked by a pack of dogs. Now, it wasn't a huge deal. I mean, they were small dogs and it was a small pack of them. I basically ignored them until a little Doberman-thing bit me. At that point, I had to face them down. "What the ---- do you think you're doing?" My next thought was how glad I was that the kids were at school. If they'd been around, I'd have had to wring some little dog necks, and I'd hate to have my boys see that.
I'd just barely showered and changed into less hole-y pants when I heard my phone go off and discovered a voice mail rejecting me for the condo I wanted up on the hill. Well, rats. Now, it's still possible that I can get into the (low-income) apartment that my cousin's just moving out of, less than a mile from my folks' place. That would be sweet. Here, the "low income" housing is well cared-for and gorgeous. Three bedrooms, three baths, manicured lawns and all. I'll let you know how that turns out. I am on a waiting list, after all.
When I went back to the school to take Pirate Jones some clean clothes (don't even ask), I mentioned the dog situation to the front office people, and maybe they passed it along, I don't know. Today I drove the kids to school and noticed several moms walking their kids and (leashed but alert) dogs along the route. I've been tempted to tell my kids what a cool thing happened just around the corner, but I don't want them to be afraid to walk in this neighborhood too. I'll just stick with them... and maybe take a stick with me.