Yeah, I know, Monday’s are supposed to be manic…for me, Fridays are the roughest day of my week. I’m usually trying to wrap up some sort of writing project so that I can spend a little time with my family. This weekend we’ll be attending our town’s Electric Light Parade, where we’ll sit in front of the hardware store and drink hot chocolate while evil girl scouts and beauty queens fling candy canes at our heads. A good time will be had by all.
On Sunday, we’ll be attending a Childrens’ Christmas party hosted by one of the EAFB units. There’s cookie decorating, craft making, games, and snacks. Me, I’m going for the cookies and the snacks, but the kids will have a great time. Santa flies in for a couple of hours and last year, even my teen sat on his lap to put in her gift requests.
Somehow between now and then, I have to get a few gifts purchased so that Santa has something to pull out of his sack at the party (shhhh)
I’m pounding away, writing like a fiend on my zombie historical. I’ve also rediscovered AutoCrit, so I’ve been running chapters through it’s magic software and being shamed by my tawdry love affair for repeated words and phrases. Grrr. But, better to clean it up now than later.
The entire week has been uneventful, except for Tucker’s trip to the vet. I don’t talk much about the dog…he’s six years old and has changed from a rambunctious puppy to a floor mat. For the most part, he’s the calmest member of the family (except at mealtimes or when someone knocks at the door — and don’t even consider ringing the doorbell, he goes ballistic). Well, the poor guy is due up for his shots. So, last night, Mr. Scott loaded doggie and two antsy children into the car and headed up to the vet’s office for the shot clinic.
It’s held once a week and the crowd of people and their pets overflows into the parking lot. A parking lot my children decide to tear across in front of a huge line of cars! Poor Mr. Scott had his heart in his throat as one of those said vehicles nearly misses a collision with the kinderboys.
Gathering up the crew, he stands in a line of hissing cats and growling snarling dogs, admonishing the boys not to pet potentially vicious animals. Do the kinderboys listen? Not a chance. Mr. Scott takes solace in the fact that the animals are there to get their rabies shots, so that will save a series of painful injections in case anyone gets bitten.
Finally, his turn comes to fill out the paperwork to get Tucker’s business done. Through all this, our dog cum chicken, has been shaking, whining, and looking pitiful. Mr. Scott loses sight of one child, but spots Kinderboy#1 (aka looking for trouble in all the wrong places kid) hanging in the doorway. Warns Kinderboy#1 not to leave the room and go out into the parking lot. Looks up. Kinderboy#1 is gone. With a sigh, Mr. Scott deserts his paperwork, gathers up Kinderboy#2 and goes in search of Kinderboy#1. Tucker prances all the way to the car…relieved that his ordeal is over.
What the poor pooch doesn’t know is he and I will be heading back to the clinic this upcoming Thursday in an effort to get the dirty deed accomplished. Sigh.
Hope you all have a great weekend!