Overheard

 
"Math books are so mean !"
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"Mom, what answer do you get to this? 'Between 1965 and 2003, the number of school-aged children will increase 225%. If there were 10,000,000 school-aged children in 1965, how many will there be in 2003?'"

(let's see, shall I pretend to know how to do that...or should I play the 'stop and think about it some more,' card?)
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(different student checking their math) "They can't do that...! It's not right!"
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At lunch, Trevor was literally cramming food in his mouth so that he could get to his second slot of game time for the day. Maybe the curtailment has had more of an effect on him than we'd thought.

Loren and I couldn't help noticing the ridiculously stuffed cheeks--the child's lips weren't able to close, fer cryin' out loud!--and words were heard to the effect, "We sit at the table until our food is chewed and swallowed."

It was a prime example of earnestness gone amok. Careful chewing ensued.

We females are always bent on keeping the lines of communication open, so I asked the little tyke, "In a hurry to get back to a game?"

"Yep. I'm going to Hahvest Moon and get maiy-weed."

*snort*

This is basically a farming scenario, but if the planter does well, he can get married and have kids and more calves and bunnies and....who knows what. See, it's all part of the plan to promote a conventional lifestyle. But from the lips of a six-year-old boy, it's a wee bit freaky.
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In other news, Ma had a few errands to run this afternoon and against my better judgment, I attempted a new trajectory out of the snow/ice laden driveway. This way very shortly got me stuck, which is to be preferred over the option of hitting random trees and vehicles.

Still, I was frustrated and may have vented the teeniest bit of spleen at someone, I don't know...announcing, "Never mind, I'll just have to get out of here by my-self ," took the snow shovel and set to work.

The pressure was on since the bank closed in an hour and I was just about at the point where adrenaline could imbue me with special strength of the sort that allows one to lift the car with one hand and rotate it to the proper position.

But I didn't.

After several tries and two visits to the kids' sandbox, I was finally in a position to get back up to the garage where I pulled the maneuver I'd done on shopping day: back and forthing to go out nose first.

It's always best after you've blown off steam at someone if you can then be successful in the very endeavor which you said you wished you'd done differently, so it was with pumping heart and sweating brow that I victoriously charged out of the driveway. The smell of victory was short lived, however, as the smell of perspiration and impending death by heat prostration overcame me to the extent that I had to stop the car and remove my coat.

My unfortunate choice of a heavy wool sweater to combat the cold had not taken into account the possibility that I would soon be doing desperate battle with the winter elements so carelessly left in the driveway.

El spirito soon revived as I entered the bank and heard the employees speaking about an Iowa law recently passed by the House . It concerns a ban on smoking in public and in the workplace, which would include tractors on farms if other hired persons would ever be driving them.

So the tractor question was being mentioned as well as the part where smoking would still be allowed in casinos....

"Yes," I said, but the real question would be, can I drive my tractor to the casino and then smoke?"

*laughter from the ladies behind the counter*

Perhaps I'd best leave it to better minds than mine.

Then I went home and got stuck in the driveway again.

But I got myself out, so everything's cool.
 

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