Mister Bubby: Mom, if you want to insult somebody without swearing, you should call them a “burritohole.”

Mad: That doesn’t even make sense.

MB: A burrito is a little donkey.

Mad: I see.

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Mister Bubby: Te gusta la comida de amor?

Mad: The “food of love”? What is the food of love?

MB: I don’t know. Para-see-un food?

Mad: Parisian food?

MB: I prefer to call it “Para-see-un.”

Mad: That makes it sound like a parasite.

MB: Well, flatworms aren’t too bad.

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Mister Bubby is at boy scout camp this week, so I’m starting to miss him. The other day I clicked on a link to a blog post that happened to be on a WordPress blog, and since I was still technically signed in to WordPress (despite the fact that I haven’t done any blogging since…whenever that last time I posted was), I saw that I had new comments on my blog. Or a new comment. It was on one of my really old posts–the one I wrote about the birth of Girlfriend, actually, so for the sake of nostalgia and crap, I went back and read it.

It’s amazing how much you forget. Well, how much I forget. I kept clicking on other old posts from this era, and holy moly, there was a lot of stuff I’d completely forgotten about. I mean, it didn’t even seem familiar. That’s how much I’d forgotten it. It makes me glad that I blogged regularly back in those days. It also makes me sad because I know those days of blogging all the time and blogging before I forget stuff are over. I know, I know. I should have more faith. Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to start blogging in earnest again, but it’s hard. It requires me to sit down and actually do it. Easier said than done, my friends! Well, with MB at boy scout camp and Elvis in cub scout day camp, I have fewer children competing with me for screen time this week. Unfortunately, I spent Monday and Tuesday doing responsible things like going to clogging rehearsal and shopping for groceries and taking people to the orthodontist and speech therapy and getting ready for the housekeepers, and Wednesday was my day to volunteer at cub camp. I had forgotten how much I dislike cub camp. I used to do two or three days of cub camp in a week. I didn’t enjoy it, exactly, but I didn’t remember it being all that bad. This year I only had to do one day, and it wasn’t even Friday (the day I hate most of all because of the three hours of free time where the boys are playing field games and I’m trying to entertain Elvis with blackberry picking and hat frisbee). I thought it would be a breeze, but it was horrible. Time just crawled and crawwwwwwwwled.

It made me very glad that this is my last year of cub camp. EVER!

In the past Elvis had to have one of his parents with him every day at camp. Sugar Daddy and I would split the week so neither of us had to go every day. This year the scoutmaster–or the assistant scoutmaster…or both of them together, I don’t know–decided that it wouldn’t be necessary for him to have a constant chaperone. Reports from the first two days were that he had done great without us. So yay! I think he actually does do better without us. At least without me. It wasn’t that he was ill-behaved yesterday. He was fine (except for his troubling tendency to point the BB gun someplace other than downrange, but that was only for a half-hour). He was just clingy. He didn’t interact with the other boys at all, just stuck to me like glue. (Another reason I found it so wearying.) Anyway, he seemed disappointed that neither SD nor I would be there Thursday or Friday (except for the Friday evening campfire that families attend), but after yesterday, I am happy to disappoint him. I mean, I’m not happy to disappoint him for the sake of disappointing him, but I’m happy to disappoint him for his own good. (Not to mention mine!)

SD was with MB at boy scout camp for the first two days. He had a great time, won a shooting contest or something, and says he wants to go for the full week next year. Well, good for him. Apparently being a parent volunteer at boy scout camp is very different from being a parent volunteer at girls camp. At girls camp you have to work all day (and into the night). At boy scout camp, you make the boys do all the work while you shoot the breeze with other men. (And, apparently, at some point, shoot guns.) I can’t blame him for wanting to go back. I mean, it’s not my cuppa, but it’s certainly his, so good for him. When do I get to volunteer at something that’s fun that gets me out of the house for a whole week? I don’t think such opportunities exist for women like me (for whom fun is an elusive concept to begin with).

Even as I type this, I’m thinking I should be practicing my clogging because we perform on Saturday at the fair and tonight is our final rehearsal, and I’m really not ready. I think I’m afraid to put on my shoes and be reminded of just how not ready I am. But I must be ready. I must! Not only do these videos end up on YouTube, but this time my family’s going to be there. SD won free tickets to a baseball game at work. I mean, at work he won the free baseball game. The baseball game is at the stadium, I’m assuming. Anyway, not because he’s such a fan of baseball, but he signs up to win free stuff all the time, and this time he did. Well, it’s the same evening that I’m performing at the fair, and he asked how important it was to me that they all come and support me in my public clogging endeavors. Truly, I was ambivalent, so I said we should let the children decide which they’d rather do. Interestingly enough, they all chose watching me dance at the fair. I think that is less about watching me dance than not watching baseball, which, let’s face it, is the most boring game on earth. (No offense to you baseball fans. American pastime and whatnot. I respect that!) Anyway, it means that I can’t embarrass myself. Or more specifically, I shouldn’t. So I should be clogging right now instead of blogging. Clogging, not blogging. Heh, that’s cute. But you see what I mean? This is why I can’t stage a blogging comeback. There is always something else I should be doing. Not that I’m doing it instead, but I’m thinking about it. It inhibits me!

Speaking of inhibitions, I should eat breakfast. Not that breakfast has anything to do with inhibitions, but while I was speaking of inhibitions, I realized that I was hungry. See, another thing I should be doing. The list goes on and on!

Talking of which, there’s also a big pile of laundry with my name on it.

I wrote a thing at By Common Consent, for those who are interested. In the beginning, I posted links to my BCC posts whenever I had one, but then I stopped for some reason. I think mainly because it seemed to me that readers of my personal blog who would be interested in my Mormon blogging were already reading BCC anyway, and now half those people who would be interested are those who found me at BCC in the first place. So advertising seemed unnecessary. But now I feel like I should point out everything I manage to write, just like I feel the need to point out to my husband every place I drove during the day, so he doesn’t think I’m turning into a hermit who sits around reading novels all day (and doing a little laundry on the side), even though that’s basically what I’ve become.

 

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