I’m not pulling my WmWms weight this week, boys and girls. I apologize. I started the week sick, and a fair number of distractions have contributed as well.
I have a couple of things I wish to explore substantively, but I need to let them sink in for a week or three before I do so. I’m too close to them right now. For tonight, please take a few blurbs and pretend they’re every bit the unparalleled brilliance my usual offerings are. Ha! OK, here goes.
Baseball Concludes
We’re headed to Nathan’s last baseball game of the season in a little while. He’s had a good time and great coaching and logistical support (thanks, Jim, Michael, and Ranae!), but we’ll just have to see whether we go in for this particular sport again. I don’t think he’s been as enthusiastic about this as he was soccer and basketball.
She Died When?
My stepfather’s lawyer sent me a copy of my mother’s will today, with a consent form enabling him to file it in probate court without my presence. My mother died in April 2001. Let’s just say he’s absent-minded and leave it at that.
The Injured Minivan
A couple of you have asked for a look at Lea’s van post-wreck, so here it is:
The sliding door was the big victim. That’s cut all the way through, not just scratched. Though you can’t see it in the picture, everything on this side got it. There shall be a new front bumper cover, headlight assembly, front fender, passenger door, sliding door, rear quarter panel, and rear bumper cover.
Seemingly against the very nature of the universe, and contrary to earlier reporting, our respective insurance companies both a) exist; and b) have come to a productive meeting of the minds. Cross your fingers. I’ll brag on our insurance company by name once we’re done. (And Lea’s done a great job with the necessary phone work this week.)
Hookers and Beer!
I have the evening completely to myself tonight. I foresee lots of Grand Theft Auto IV at just stupid volume. I also have American Gangster on HD that I haven’t watched yet. Ridley and Denzel? Aw, yeah, baby.
Six Hundred Three Score and Six
The direct URL of this post is http://wmwmsblog.com/?p=666.
Peace out. (Or insert some other thing I’m not cool enough to say, if you like.)
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Gah! Not 666, now you’ve done it. You made me open a portal.
Give me a few minutes alone in a room with the boy. I can work him over a bit, see if I can’t get him to see that baseball is the bestest sport in America. It’s the least you can do, seeing as how you exposed me to demons and all.
We have a tourney game friday evening and hopefully the next one on saturday night. That will wrap up this league season. Then we have the local all-stars tourney in a couple of weeks.
YEOWZA! I’m SO glad that all happened when no one was, you know, IN the car (were you reading me when my baby took a little solo trip down Bowyer’s driveway?)
Mr. Chili is trying to get Punkin’ into soccer so he can coach. I’m trying to convince him that he’d be better off just coaching – and NOT coaching his daughter – but I’m not sure he’s buying it. I’m going to get in touch with the H.S. athletic folks at the end of the school year to find out what has to happen to get him on a list for coaching next September.
Hookers and beer. I love you. I’m working on a post about how I’ve got to feed my inner teenage boy every once in a while. I’m betting I’d LOVE to come hang with you for hookers and beer….
Chili – come with me to New Orleans. There are better things than hookers and beer there. It’s a professional level of decadence. With beads.
Chili: Indeed. I’m sure it’d be a blast. Damned shame it’s so geographically inconvenient to do so.
‘seester: How come you’re not afraid of all of the voodoo and stuff? Didn’t you see Angel Heart? That was a documentary, wasn’t it?
Because voodoo isn’t real.
And, yeah, I saw Angel Heart. It was one of my Dad’s stellar recommendations as a Date Night video – my date was impressed with my Dad, I think.