Hmm. Where does the time go?
Another Saturday in suburbia.
Went to a high school football playoff game last night.
It was cold. There was much kicketh of ass.
Unfortunately, it was our asses that were kickethed.
Busy Girl had a basketball game this morning.
I think I neglected to tell y'all she made the varsity team at school.
It's a big deal around here, as she narrowly missed the cut last year amidst a bit of controversy.
They won one, and, lost one, which is not bad considering we were missing 5 out of 11 players today, and, the second team had 16 on their bench.
Busy Girl had 8 points in the first, and, 6 in the second. I think. Her brothers have been so incredibly impossible today, I'm not sure what happened.
Then, it was off to look at vans.
We drove two today, and, we'll get one of them if they can make the numbers work out for us. I hope we'll find out something on Monday.
We get our cars from a friend of my mother's who is a car broker, we tell him what we are looking for, but, we don't always know what he'll come back with from auction.
So, it's kind of a surprise to us when we get something. Hence the reason we have had that string of white vans.
I'm not above invoking her memory when I chat with him, you know, just in case it moves him to help the bereaved, or, whatever.
Hey, all's fair in love and used cars.
I was loudly lamenting the Vanderbilt score earlier, when from the other room, in mid-Game Cube play, comes a small voice:
"It's just a football game. There'll be others, you know."
Deep thoughts, from Busy D.
Speaking of Game Cube, little dude kicked. my. ass. at Starfox.
Seriously, he's five, and, I got skunked.
I can play me some Nintendo, too, and, he finally made me quit saying, "You know? You're not very good at this."
Now, I'm sitting here not doing stuff I need to be doing, and, wondering if I can/should wait until Black Friday to get some Christmas gifts I can't name here, since there are probably people reading who aren't supposed to be reading.
I'm having a root beer, and, listening to Radio Margaritaville.
Move over, Amy Winehouse. I'm out of control.
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