In Other News

I am still not a precinct chair. Apparently 7 people decided they had to wash their hair or something, so we were that shy of a quorum. This is frustrating. Soon I'll just file like normal people and it will have been a non-issue. On the plus side, if you run unopposed (like anyone else wants THIS job) your name doesn't go on the ballot, it's automatic.

In carnival news, my playroom has been transformed into Silent Auction Central. It's ugly, don't go in there. I'm also having trouble nailing the school personnel down on any of the things I need to know, like when I can have a meeting, whether we can order the electrical extras from Maintenance or whether we have to rent them from outside, whether I can ask staff to sign up to do things, all that. The school secretary says she'll get to me soon, because she's working on something for the principal. Isn't she always? And then she never gets back to it. Then when I planned my meeting, I was informed that there's a PTA meeting for that night. You would think I would know that, but apparently no one thought to tell me. And I'm on the board. Color me stupid.

Work is excruciating, but I'm still going. It's money. Not a lot, but a wee bit. I'm actually doing better making bon-bons and giving them to JJ to sell at work. They're gooooood, too. Right now with an investment of around $20 I've made $65. Not bad.

The Bigun has applied to, and been accepted to U of H. So apartment hunting is in the near future. She thought the dorms were trashy, and thinks she can afford an apartment, and she really wants one so she can have a kitchen. And, she tells me, a counter to spread out all her coupons. (Where's the pod? This is the kid who laughed at my feminine products stockpile until her friends all cleaned me out.) She declares, and I quote: "I am not going through college on Ramen Noodles!"

You go, baby. Now you know you don't have to.

I'm rereading Pilgrim's Progress. I love that book. Thank you, Louisa May Alcott for referring to it in Little Women, which made me chase down that and Dickens as well. It's time for taking another hack at the classics, I feel it coming on. Especially when summer comes and there's no more carnival ever to plan, and days are long and spent by the pool.

I wish my life wasn't so boring; I'd have so much more to say.

Well, I did remember that I didn't retail the trip to San Antonio in February. I was about to describe it when I heard that Tim had died. Put it right out of my mind, it did.

But the PTA State Convention was there, and it was wicked cold, and I discovered a new guilty pleasure. It's called Dick's Last Resort, and it's waaaaay down there on the Riverwalk. Apparently the theme is to insult patrons and be generally rude to them. On purpose. So don't ask a server where the bathroom is; they will give you detailed directions to the roof. If they really want to mock you, they take paper off a roll and fashion a hat from it, and write something snarky on it, or insulting, like "Viagra causes hair loss" on a bald guy and "My boyfriend pays me for sex" on a lady with big hair.

Being forewarned about the nature of the place, three PTA buddies and I went on Friday night to check out the music. The band was not bad at all, and they were funny, playing a few measures of a sucky song and then saying "OK, thanks for the request, we're bored with that one. Someone else request something!" I swear they did a snippet of Barbie Girl.

When the drummer/singer cast about for requests, my friends obliged. Loudly. So he asked "Where you guys from?" Of course, being PTA, we aren't supposed to drink while wearing anything that says PTA. So they replied "We can't say!" Whereupon, at the next break, he proceeds to come over and chat us up, getting out of the Parliamentarian where we are from and what we're doing in town. She's had several brews, and I've matched her 7&7 for beer, and I'm not spilling my guts! Wimp.

And of course, when Joe Drummer got back on stage what did he do but bust out "This one goes out to the Katy PTA!"

So of course, Saturday we had to go back.

This time, positioning ourselves at the bar, we proceeded to harrass the bartenders. One of them, taking a meal break, ate nearby, and when a slimy older guy started hitting on the Parliamentarian, the bartender called her over to chat to get her out of dealing with it. I swear that woman makes friends anywhere. The 3rd VP ended up on stage both nights playing the tamborine, and me? I snagged a bar towel from an unsuspecting server guy and threatened to pop each one that walked by in the rear. I actually got one, too.

And for the record, no headaches, no hangovers, and no way I'm doing that again.

Until next convention.