You dissin' me?

I won't bother with my usual excuses ... I'll just try to do better in the future.

June has been pretty eventful so far. End of school ... beach vacation ... promotion at work ... and now my brother's daughter Chloe is staying with us until we have have our annual rendevous at Chez Grandparents Wilson (technically in July, but close enough.)


We had fun at the beach, although it wasn't quite what I expected. I kind of envisioned mornings spent walking along the water, afternoon spent reading the latest mystery novels, and taking it easy. I forgot that "vacationing with kids" is a bit of an oxymoron. The first morning we were there, Gwen drew up a "Calendar of Activities."

"Mom, what are we doing tomorrow?" she asked.

"Going to Ocracoke," I said definitely.

"And how about Monday?"

"Umm, maybe we'll go to the Paint Your Own Pottery Place?"

"And Tuesday?"

"Uhhh, go to the beach, then sit around and read all afternoon?"

She gave me a disparaging look. "Mo-om, that's not good enough," she said. "We have a lot to do, and not very much time to do it. What are we doing on Tuesday?"

I swear, getting back to work was almost a vacation after that.


On the last night of our trip to the beach, as we were eating dinner, we talked about what a clown Xavier was, and then various famous comedians, about their lives, etc.

At one point, I remarked, "I read once that it is very difficult being married to a comedian."

My mom replied, "I can see where that would be."

Gwen said snidely, "Definitely."

With a grin, I said, "Gwen, you aren't married yet ... or is there something you need to tell me?"

Gwen snorted. "I live with Xavier -- it's close enough."


Then there was this morning, when I met with my brother and his wife to pick up Chloe (Xavier came along for company.) As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I glanced at my brother's car.

"Bye, Aunt Ginger!" I called (for the benefit of the kids, and apparently biased by renaming folks based on their relationships to my kids.) "Bye, Uncle Ezra! Have a good trip, we'll miss you!"

From the backseat, Chloe said in a condescending tone, "He's your brother, you know, not your uncle."

I guess it is clear what she thinks of my intelligence.


In sadder news, yesterday we saw the end of Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, and Gwen's hermit crabs. They started ailing a couple of days after we returned from the beach. Lots of web research uncovered nothing to clue us in as to what was wrong with them and why, but they managed to linger for a little over a week before kicking the bucket. Gwen is devastated, of course -- she managed to convince herself that they were molting until they started to smell -- but she was doing her best to put a positive spin on it. As we were burying them under a little tree in our front yard, she sniffed, "I think it would make Christy and Caramel happy to know that they were feeding the tree and bringing a little more life to the world."

A fine sentiment indeed. Rest in peace, Christy and Caramel.