If You Need Some Old-Fashioned Fun

Mrs. HM is a bit under the weather today. Headache and nausea are competing to be her new best friend. Sorry, Mabel. They didn't know that HM already has a best friend. It probably wouldn't have mattered if they knew. They maliciously prevented HM from enjoying her school lunch of soggy crinkle fries, a rectangular pizza, and a thimbleful of canned chocolate pudding.

Sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day is the thought that the students are NOT my children. You may think I'd wish they were, what with being able to discipline my own children as I see fit. They've turned out fairly well, in my opinion. But no. I could not deal with some of these students at home. At most, I have some of them for two 50-minute sessions per day. The thought of living with the knowledge that they are mine until the end of time is quite unsettling. How many times must one woman hear a fake Mexican accent from an albino boy?

In the good news, bad news department, I received a call from the doctor this evening informing me that I must return for further tests. That's the BAD news. The GOOD news is that the office kindly scheduled my test for me, and it so happens that it is at 8:30 a.m. next Wednesday, and HELLO my duty day is Wednesdays. Let's just hope results show that surgery is not on the table, since last time HM was on the table, she WOKE UP in the middle of the procedure. Even 10 fake vicodin are not enough good news to go through that again.

I have been checking horoscope.com daily for a former student's science project. Here's my horoscope from last Friday, the day I went for the test that is going to be repeated:

A sudden burst of common sense will provide the clarity you need: a tricky choice or decision can be simplified, if you look at it from an objective point of view. Be wise to people overreacting; they might make the situation appear far more dismal than it really is!

Of course, I haven't noticed this site to be overly accurate. The TV Guide has a weekly horoscope that has seemed to apply more to my situations, and also those of family members. Not that I believe in horoscopes. They are at best good bathroom reading. And I haven't read the TV Guide horoscope in about a month. Which is not to say that I haven't been to the bathroom in a month.

For the record, today's horoscope.com told me:

You’ll feel as though you need some good old-fashioned TLC today. It could be that you’re feeling neglected or overlooked, and you might believe that some attention and being noticed will solve your problems, but you’ll be barking up the wrong tree! What you need is some good old-fashioned fun instead!

Since I need old-fashioned fun, let me share with you HH's latest pronouncement:

Can hair not be trained?

He was quite forceful in his oratory. Almost Shakespearean. He was in an argument with the #1 son about how if he combed his hair every day, it would eventually lie in the proper configuration and not demand such high maintenance. I disagreed. HH demanded, "Then how come your hair stays parted in the same place every day?" And I calmly explained, as if HH was simple, "Because I part it with a comb every day." DUH!

The conflict arose because the #1 son wants me to comb his hair for him. Not that he has an elaborate bouffant that requires hours of teasing with a silver rat-tailed comb or anything. He just wants the sticking-up parts to be slicked down with water. That's because he showers at night, goes to bed with damp hair, and it is unruly in the morning. HH argued that when HE was #1's age, he didn't have his mom or dad comb HIS hair for him. Which is a moot point, because his mother was sick and in the hospital a lot, and his father was blind. Anyhoo...I agree that the boy should certainly comb his own hair, since he washes his face, puts on medicine, brushes his teeth, shaves his chin whiskers, and puts on his Axe every morning. But HH needs to stop the theatrics.

HH was a bit miffed at me just before the hair-training incident, because I poked fun at him for asking if there was a movie playing that he wanted to see: Meduna Goes To Prison. I said I was not familiar with it. HH said, "A big black gal gets put in prison and a white girl says 'What you gonna do about it?' and she picks her up by the collar." Oh. I think he meant Madea Goes To Jail. But it wasn't on, so HH and #1 went to see Paul Blart, Mall Cop.

HH told me: "You can make a sane man crazy!" I told him I didn't know about that, but one thing was for sure: "I can make the SAME man crazy."

CAN HAIR NOT BE TRAINED?