Alliteration + Enthusiasm = Blogging Success!
At least I hope so. I don’t really have anything to talk about this morning. Let’s see how long that lasts.
Woke up this morning, finished tidying up for the housekeepers–at least as tidy as it’s going to get–then went to Mister Bubby’s Family History Exhibit at school. It wasn’t just MB’s Family History Exhibit, of course. The whole fifth grade was doing it. As an assignment, not like a peer pressure thing (in case that wasn’t clear). The assignment was to interview a “family elder,” get their life story and also obtain some “artifacts” that were relevant to their life. The first week of school MB came home and said, “I have to interview a family member–the older the better.” I said, “Well, I think the oldest member of our family who still has all their marbles is my dad.” At first MB was less than enthusiastic. No offense to Grandpa, but how interesting could he be? (Only being 64? Or being related to me? I don’t know.) I convinced him that my dad actually was interesting–no, for real. He grew up on a farm in Idaho–he drove a tractor, for Pete’s sake!–and he became a scientist. How is that not interesting??? Come on!!! I think it was the tractor that sold him.
So I learned a couple things from MB doing this project: 1) I haven’t done a very good job teaching my children anything about their grandparents. 2) MB is really bad about punctuation. I don’t mean that he hasn’t learned the art of the comma, which takes years to master–don’t feel bad if you haven’t yet (it’s kind of a gift). I’m talking periods. He’s very stingy with the periods. And yet he got a very high score on his state writing test last year. Should I be concerned about academic standards in Oregon? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Ah, where was I? Anyway, yes. I was astonished at all the things MB didn’t already know. Okay, not astonished. Somewhat surprised. So I think I should probably tell the kids boring stories about their grandparents and about me growing up more often than I have heretofore. Sometimes I give these historical factoids to Princess Zurg and she says, “Why are you telling me this?” As if the tales of my youth are not fascinating! Yes, clearly there is more work to be done on this front. The family history front, I mean. And the punctuation front. I have a legacy to worry about.
I was disappointed, but not particularly surprised, that there was almost nothing in MB’s report about my father’s career. My father’s work has been a big part of his life, and he’s been very successful. But it wouldn’t be like him to talk about it. At least not voluntarily. The work my dad does is stuff that most people can’t understand, and he can’t explain it in just a couple of sentences, and I think he’s afraid of boring people, so historically (ha, historically) he has just not talked about it at all. He’s a mass spectrometrist, in case you were wondering. He sat us all down and explained it to us once, and it made complete sense at the time–he did a very good job explaining–but, um, I can’t explain it to you now. Because…there’s just not enough time, you see. Yeah. Anyway, my dad’s had an impressive career. He’s discovered stuff and been an expert witness at trials and is all distinguished and crap. But when his grandson is interviewing him about his life, what does he tell him about? The time he won a chili contest. To be fair, it was really good chili, and it was a proud moment for our family. But still.
Anyway, after the Family History Exhibit, I had to go to the dentist and get my teeth cleaned. I like getting my teeth cleaned. I guess I mainly like my teeth having been cleaned. The process is not particularly pleasurable–although I don’t mind it. I’ve been going to this dentist for the last seven years, and he’s a fellow Mormon and we actually used to be in the same ward. I’ve told this story, but not for a few years, so I feel free to repeat it. Initially I was not interesting in having a dentist who was someone I knew socially. Or rather, I was not interested in having the people who knew me socially also having intimate knowledge of my dental health. But I got over it. Now it’s no big deal. Actually, one of his hygienists is in my ward currently, and she’s the one who cleaned my teeth today. She’s cleaned my teeth before. The first time I thought, “Eh, I’m not sure I want N to know how much tartar buildup I have.” But I got over it. Now it’s no big deal. Where was I? Nowhere. I was just babbling. The cleaning takes longer now, what with the braces, and also because I’m chatting with the hygienist about our kids and crap. Stuff, I mean.
I have thought sometimes that being a dental hygienist, once you get past the ick-factor of having your hands in someone else’s maybe-not-so-hygienic mouth, must be a reasonably satisfying job. If you feel satisfied when you clean something and don’t have to clean it again for another six months. I think I might enjoy it. I mentioned this to my husband once, and he said he didn’t think I was perky enough to be a dental hygienist. I think he is right. Do you know any cranky dental hygienists? But it was just a passing fancy, anyway. I have also wondered if dental hygienists can do their own cleanings, or if they can’t, are they extra-self-conscious when they get their teeth cleaned by someone else? Would they be too embarrassed to let one of their colleagues do it? These are questions I have wanted to ask, but thusfar have not dared. Not even with the hygienists I know socially.
Well. It’s 1 p.m. and I’m still waiting on the housekeepers. Actually, I’m not going to wait anymore. I’m going to go grocery shopping because it has to be done sometime. Hopefully the housekeepers will show up and do their business before the kids all come home from school. Do you think housekeepers are very good at cleaning their own houses, or are they too tired at the end of the day to bother? One would think they’d seen enough dirty houses all day not to want to come home to a dirty one, so maybe they’re extra-organized and conscientious. I knew a housekeeper once. Technically, she was a housekeeping supervisor–she’d worked her way up in the company. This was before I was in the market for a housekeeper, of course. This was when having a housekeeper was just a girlish fantasy. Anyway, I’d just had Elvis, and this lovely woman offered to come help me clean my house (apartment, technically), since I’d mentioned I was having some trouble in that area. I said something about maybe not wanting her to see my home in all its uncleaned glory, and she said, “Honey, I’ve seen it all, and I’ve cleaned it all. Nothing fazes me.” And I believed her. But as it happened, two other friends of mine showed up on my doorstep one day and announced that they were going to clean my apartment for me. At first I was like, “Wow, this may be humiliating.” (Thinking, not out loud.) But actually, it was just really nice. Those two ladies are going to heaven someday. I hope I will see them there, but so far it’s looking unlikely. Ha! That’s my self-deprecating humor-that-is-in-fact-totally-serious for the day. I’ll catch you gentle readers later. Ta ta!