I have a vision now of a clumsy stripper getting caught in the grapevine. Escape #2 would be very unlikely in that case.

Still no lemonade! I may be forced into manual labour.

I'll probably just eat the leftovers from my fruit salad making yesterday. Grapes and berries for miles because I can't visualise a pint or a quart.

Well, I can now that I remember how many cups are in either.

Strangely, one of the recipes specified 1 quart of strawberries and 9 ounces of grapes. The mixing v. confusing.

I have a lot of grapes left over.

Strangely, one of the recipes specified 1 quart of strawberries and 9 ounces of grapes.

That makes sense to me in a typical grocery store -- the strawberries are in pint/quart containers already, and you can weigh the grapes in a bunch.

The Bourne was good. Subway changes making me take a route without an elevator for one train was not. Grocery shopping alone with a child in wheelchair was challenging, but he was very good which is the only way I stayed sane.

We built a new model Lego castle, had mac & cheese for dinner, played beginner Uno, bathed, booked and he is asleep.

In an effort to reduce opportunities of stress, mac now has an agreed upon outfit for each school day for the rest of the summer. Only Saturday and Sunday will be left up for choice.

In the same vein, I have put together and hung up work outfits for the next week and a half.

Best of craigslist: Dying in a Plane Crash... A Request

the strawberries are in pint/quart containers already

I guess my grocery stores aren't typical. I bought (prepackaged) 2lbs of strawberries, 1lb of blueberries, and 6oz of raspberries. The portion of blueberries I normally buy is 6oz, as are the blackberries left over from my cobbler-making.

Yay, lego! Also great that he was behaving, msbelle. I can't imagine how stressful the procedure is for both of you.

I bought (prepackaged) 2lbs of strawberries, 1lb of blueberries, and 6oz of raspberries.

Huh.

He is starting to get annoyed at not being able to walk, but at the same time is really starting to get how hard it is for me. I hate that he has to understand that. He's 6, you know. why should he have to know that things are hard? But today I starting having muscle spasms above my knees from deep bends and lifting him more than normal, so I also have to be safe cause possibly dropping him, not really an option.

There's a lot of stuff he's not supposed to know at 6 that he already does, I bet.

Which makes it worse, not easier.

Went to a going-away picnic yesterday for the 17 year old instructor. She tried to explain to everyone a week or so ago about how much we've meant to her, and she burst into shocked tears. She's been training since she was 12. Her 12 year old brother trains, and her five year old demonspawn brother just started training.

One of the instructors brought their year old kid. It was very interesting watching the range of ages (oldest person there was mid-forties, I guess). The cutest was the one year old's eyes lighting up when she saw the five year old. And they're almost the same size...

It's so very fascinating to watch the mix of ages and maturity (or just exposure). The five year old swears like a trucker (but since he can also correctly use words like "confound" he tends to get a pass language-wise, at least at home). The 26-year old is described as "so very young," and even by the 17-year old. Who's young. And old. Her parents are very young.

I used to have a point. I think it's been replaced by a migraine and shoulder pain. I hope I have more meds left.

Anyone played the impossible quiz? I got stuck at #4 and can't decide if it's worth pushing through.

Legos are of the awesome. D made transformers with them that were instantly recognizable to anyone who knows transformers. Sadly, his aunt fails this, but he was very understanding.

I don't know if it makes you feel any better, msbelle, but kids learn to understand their parents/caretakers can't be/do everything at all ages. I'd have to interupt superfunplaytime with D to attend to T, and he'd just let out a big dramariffic sigh. Oh and commentary. Once when T really got into a rage because I can't move faster than a speeding bullet and it took a bit to settle him enough to take a bottle, I was told by D "You aren't very good at this." Ha, stinkerbutt. He got hung by his ankles and tickled into screaming for that one.

Oh, never mind. Got #4. How irritating. Back in.