Random Thought Thursday 6-12-08

It's Thursday already. Good thing. I don't really have any lengthy ideas to discuss. Stop that! Stop jumping with glee! I'm right here, you know.

When it rains it pours. Especially in Iowa. And on the Morton Salt box. But that's not what I'm talking about. I go for days with no communication from my posse. But when one calls, they all call. Like last week, when 3 of them called within 90 minutes. Then today, right when I was talking to MyOldLoverFromTheStreetLastNight about bringing her daughter out to swim in Poolio, who should try to call me? Mabel. Uh huh. And after bending her ear for part of the afternoon, my #1 son called me 4 times. Sweet Gummi Mary! How can I be expected to keep this Mansion running with all those distractions?

Kathy Griffin's show starts a new season tonight.

Not only have I been watching 2 hours of ER on TBS every morning...I have been watching 3 hours of ER on ION at night. It's a very special All-Star guest tribute. That's 5 hours a day of ER, people! Somebody needs to get her priorities in order. Good thing the ION mini-marathon was only Monday-Wednesday. I think.

I squeezed in a good movie in 3 partial viewings over 3 different days. When I skimmed through the channels, it popped up and grabbed my attention. It is called Down in the Delta, starring Alfre Woodard and Al Freeman, Jr. and Esther Rolle. The more I watched, the more I wanted to find out the mystery of Nathan, the silver candelabra. It even brought tears to my eyes. Twice.

The #1 son went to school yesterday and today, because the school went to a YMCA camp and a city park swimming pool. Never mind that we have a pool right here at the Mansion. That's what HH said on the subject. I instructed him to put on his chapstick-looking sunscreen every two hours, and not to drown, and not to play the dunking game. I guess one out of three isn't bad. He said his buddy tried to shove him underwater, but it didn't work. I suppose not. My boy is now 5' 10" and 150 lbs. That's a pretty good size 13-year-old. His buddy might be an inch taller, but he's a real twig, kind of spindly, and he couldn't close the deal.

My boy says I'm overprotective and obsessive. I agree. When he got home last night, I made him come downstairs and watch the news with me. That Iowa tornado at the Boy Scout ranch really wrapped its fingers around my cold, cold heart. Boy Scouts. The best Boy Scouts, chosen to attend a leadership camp. Their proud parents sent off their 13- and 14-year-old sons to have a good time, never thinking that it might be the last goodbye. "This," I told my boy, "is why I am so overprotective. You never know what might happen."

Now I have made myself sad again, and I need to go see what time Ms. Griffin can cheer me up. Thank the Gummi Mary, I haven't lost my urge to end sentences with prepositions.