A Market for Roadkill.

     Last Sunday, we had the completely brilliant and inspired idea, that it would be FUN, to take the kids to church, followed by Jasin's Family picnic, followed by the Erie County Fair, (a Fair that is so big, that we have never ever dared take the children there before, because, before last Sunday, we obviously had brains.) followed by grocery shopping, followed by work first thing Monday morning.

     While at the Fair, Bearded Man took the kids through the Conservation building, while I wandered out to watch three young men hurtle themselves off of a platform and onto a small trampoline, while doing dangerous things that has probably caused no end cardiac issues for their poor mother, and they will probably have to go to hell for such thoughtless torture.
     Two of my offspring came running out of the Conservation building all excited and waving something. It seems that the Conservation people were giving away small pieces of fur to small children who matched animal parts correctly, or some such thing. And, I swear, all I could think, was that someone, someplace, was driving along the road, zoned out and listening to Country music, and noting all the road kill, and had a light bulb moment of inspiration, to put it to use. Waste not, want not, and all that. He probably had a beard, too.

     Since it's been awhile since I have been able to update this, I imagine something of note must have happened over the last few weeks. For instance, George has done a little investigating at church. And loudly announced the results very loudly in the middle of a quiet part during Mass: "See, Mom? I checked under the bench, since I was being bad, and, there are no monsters here, like you said there were!" followed by a rousing rendition of " 'Ol Red", the popular Blake Sheldon tune.
    
     My days at the Buffalo VA are winding down, faster than I want them to. Which means that I will no longer be part of the Peacock saga every night, on my drive home.
     As long as I can remember, there has been this place on Rt 16, that has had peacocks. Since I have started working in Buffalo, there has been a white peacock, that usually has the full fan open in all it's glory, on my way home from work.
     One night, I finally stopped, to get a better look. And I still cannot decide which I feel sorrier for. I think about it all the time, and I can see it from both sides. Because, there, in the corner, was this poor peahen, simply trying to do her thing, and peck at the ground or whatever it is they do, and there, hovering over her, was this giant peacock with the tail open and curving toward her. And he looked so desperate, as she ignored him. And this happens every night. He harasses her; she ignores him. It's pitiful. She just wants to be left alone, and he just wants to be noticed. Were they humans, there would totally be lots of dramatic Facebook statuses, and a restraining order. Probably some medications, and maybe some alcohol. It will probably never ever end. How exhausting.
    
  While completely sad about leaving the hospital, I have started to train at the new position. And am pleased to report, that there is a water cooler that has hot water. The fact that there can be tea is highly encouraging. I can deal with just about anything, with a decent cup of tea. There is a serious lack of accessible chocolate, but, I need to start training for the Mudderella, anyhow.

     Ah, the Mudderella. It came up on my Facebook, as a suggested page. After clicking on it, I decided that, 5-7 miles through mud and obstacles sounded fun. Seriously. Where the hell are my brains lately? So, I had the brilliant idea, that, before I could talk myself out of it, I should start a team. Beginning with my little sister. Then some girls I work with. And now, I am committed, and need to start training, because, less than 10 months is probably enough to make sure I will live through it, but probably not excel at it. And, if my old next door neighbor could run races while pregnant, and still look like a model, then, I can do this, too. (Seriously, the old next door neighbors were privately called "The Perfect People". They were quiet, and had model children, and all ate healthy, and looked healthy, and their gardens were perfect, and house was perfect, and I swear, it was like living next to a Disney story. If they weren't so darn nice, they would have been awful. If the people next door were a Disney story, then, that kinda made me one of the evil villains. Or, at least one of the inconsequential villagers, filled in with sub-par details, to make the back round up for fillers. Anyhow, they moved, and, in looking at their Facebook statuses, it looks like the fairy tale continues. I imagine woodland creatures follow them around their new country home.) Perfect neighbors aside, I have decided in a moment of insanity, that I need to get fit, and I need to commit to this, and I need to take others with me. (it's sort of a requirement, actually. If you don't show up with a partner, then you go stand over by a group of pitiful partner-less people, and buddy up with them. There could probably be an entire series of Blogs about that sort of social trauma.) And, since I now have the pressure of all these people expecting me to do more than cheer on the sidelines, while drinking Pepsi doctored with Captain Morgan, I have to get at it. I even bought a book about getting fit. And read it over TWIX bars. Because, I am all about baby steps. I signed up. I bought a book. I created a team. See? Progress! I have decided that I will start with my new job in Olean. Get up early, do the whole run/walk/bend over dry heaving and wheezing while neighborhood dogs bark at me, till their angry recently awoken owners yell at them, and curse at me. I have this whole plan. See? Another step.
     But then it will snow. And it will just be too awful to go for a nice relaxing run. So, maybe I should just wait till March, and give myself a solid 2 months to train. See? A backup plan! We will see how this goes. I honestly would like to give it a try.

     In other news, the Mormons have not come to scrape anything yet. It's back on the list of things to nag Bearded Man about. I think, judging by all the lumber in my driveway, that he must be a mis-placed logger. Sometimes he rearranges the wood piles, to make it look like he's making progress on the shed. It has a floor, and the skeleton of one wall up. But, he thinks maybe he needs a power air gun, to do the job properly now. It's okay though. Once this shed goes up, I have noticed that it is directly next to my lone kitchen window. My view will be a shed, and the neighbor's garage. I will take the natural light while I can get it. Someone suggested maybe hanging pleasant scenery pictures in the kitchen window, and back lighing them. This has possibilities. I could go anywhere, really. It could be educational for the children. We could spotlight different countries and cultures and landmarks, and learn all about them. It will improve their grades, IQ's, knowledge and culture awareness. I think I should buy Bearded Man an air gun. For the Children's sake.

     My truck and I are back on speaking terms. I recently spent an entire afternoon scrubbing it, vacuuming it, cleaning it, and shining it. When I was quite finished, I hooked the controls back up to the window, and Saints be Praised! THEY WORKED! As did the electrical system again. Obviously my truck is speaking to me again. I have decided it no longer needs to be shoved into a large body of water. Or set afire. Or replaced.

     Also of note, is that I have put up, to the tune of a lot of criticism, my fall decorations. Hear me out, people. First of all, reality check. It's cold out. The leaves are falling. The days are speeding up toward back to school, and I have yet to purchase so much as a pencil. Which will be followed by the panic of Christmas, which will feel like it's next week. So, I decided, since I had a day off, ambition, and burned out twinkle lights in my living room that needed to be changed (It is NOT acceptable to my psyche to have those lights in non working order.) it was time to just pull out my stuff and put it up while I was at it. And now it looks nice, and I don't have to deal with it later. Because, eventually my second job for weekends will kick in, and my spare time will consist of week day evenings. So. Fall stuff up, lights back to working, psyche intact, plans to exercise made, I am happy. Which means everyone in my household is happy. Criticize if you need to; but it may be the difference between George seeing the light of day, or basement time with the clowns....