"We have powerful friends. You're going to regret this. " - Princess Leia, Return of the Jedi

The Boy took this picture. Dunno how he did this. Perhaps it's a Death Star exploding . . .

Okay, that last post was a touch of the mid-week blahs. In truth, even Wilders sometimes get the blahs. That’s okay. We get fixed up and refreshed. Even The Boy was so cranky that I had to shove him into his cage a full hour earlier. (We had fed him his gruel, so it was okay.)

Tonight, however, was a bit better. I got home and found that The Mrs., The Boy, and Pugsley were all freshly washed and ready to head off to the local skool er, school. It was . . . “Open House Night.”

I’m pretty sure that most of the teachers were happy to spend a Thursday night at the school, seeing as how spending Thursday night at work makes me feel bright and cheery inside. We drove up to the skool er, school and were immediately confronted by rows of minivans, all shiny and each with a “My Son/Daughter Plays Soccer” sticker. Fortunately, we don’t have a Son/Daughter, just The Boy of soccer age.

We made the mistake of following a car into the “busses only” area, where it parked like you would only park if you were letting someone out. A tiny, skinny lady began to get out, but quickly pulled her door shut as we zoomed around her like we were at the Indy 500.

“Looks like she’s able enough to walk from the parking lot,” I observed.

“Not if she keeps getting dropped off at the front door. She’ll balloon up pretty quick. Soon enough she’ll have to have a slave barge like Jabba the Hutt. She could probably get Carrie Fisher, too. I don’t think she’s doing too much these days.”

Where do you go to find a metal bikini in Houston?

Anyhow, we parked and walked to the nearest entrance. I wondered if we’d have to make the trek all the way around to the front of the building so we could go through the TSA metal detectors and full body pat down. Surprisingly, on the night the school had the most people that it probably ever sees, we could just go willy-nilly into the school with not even a “check in at the office” or the more usual full body cavity search.

I’ve only seen two types of kindergarten teachers in my life – old, disillusioned and grumpy (mine) or young and full of pep and vigor, sure that each bright and shining face that she sees every day will be the best that they can be. Sickening? Sure, but that’s what The Boy has. And, frankly, it’s probably better on him than the whole “blue hair” thing.

We viewed The Boy’s work, Pugsley toddling along like our own personal Ewok. The Boy showed us his classroom, and we departed.

“How long did that last?” he asked.

“Not long.” But it was nice.

As we exited the building, we saw Jabba in training re-enter her slave barge car. It looked like she had gained a pound or two in the thirty minutes we were inside.

I just hope I can avoid having to wear a metal bikini.

Jabba might want me to shave my back.

Let's not even mention him licking me.




Okay, Shawn over at Flat Tire Paradise tagged me with "five reasons I blog."

Here they are:

1. The lucrative money.
2. The private blogging jet.
3. Cheaper than therapy.
4. Umm, I can do it while I drink beer.
5. It keeps me from founding my own religion.