Random intermission*...

*I realize that "intermission" would suggest that we are in the middle of some grand performance, which seems wrong since this blog is in more of a dry spell than anything else. 

How about some music, would that make an intermission seem more appropriate? How about something from my son's final orchestra concert? (This was absolutely worth its own post, but I am trying to limit each day's tears for the next few weeks.)

One more song, for those of you who already saw the previous one on Facebook? (Yes, we will bring a tripod from now on, as I think my videographer's arms got tired by this last song.)

It has been awesome to be a part of it! 'Nuff said. (Not really, but like I said about the whole crying thing.)

Now, go ahead and have yourself a snack…

It says "bloggers" right on the bag, who are we to argue?

…while I try to gather my thoughts about the barn swallows. Actually, my thoughts are pretty much gathered, in that I do not like the barn swallows, but I need to focus long enough to put my feelings into more words…that make sense when read in sentences, and coordinate with the photos I have taken.

Random pests and/or peculiarities

Before we get started, anybody looking for some hookahs?

Fine, I googled it and they are water pipes, but that isn't as funny as saying hooker with an accent. 

When I saw a woman around the corner trying to help this turtle find safe passage across the street, I continued on home and brought back a broom. I then offered to hold her dog's leash while she played crossing guard. Something about the words "be careful, he's a snapper" made me realize she was clearly much more qualified for that episode of Wild Kingdom.

In case you have ever pondered how vicious a snapping turtle could possibly be, that thing spun around and grabbed onto the push broom's bristles.

That's right, turtles are bad-ass! But even if you don't have a shell, you can pretend.

"I cannot believe she put me in a post with the words pest and peculiar in the title."

And here we have Fozzie's latest neighborhood nemesis. (Fozzie thinks nemesis means potential best friend.)

My gosh cat, at least make yourself useful out there and stain that crappy looking deck! Maybe eat some of those weeds?

Oh, hello tree swallow! I see you are camped out on my mailbox so that you can peer into the paper box across the street where you and your mate are setting up shop. Those pieces of straw you've been using seem pretty easy for my neighbors to just fling out onto the ground, no offense.

You know, you're kind of pretty and appear to have some respect for personal space and appropriate techniques for approaching or staying away from humans. Um, you haven't seen your cousins, the barn swallows, around yet this year, have you?

"You talking about us? Sounds like you're talking about us."
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! They are back, and demand their own post

Some minor random issues

Since I just posted yesterday, I was thinking I could skip the pleasantries and just get right to it. Does that offend anyone? (If so, hello, how are you?)

Can you spot anything off about my dozen roses? 

How about this obvious problem I had when opening a paper bag that had been stapled shut. (Bag is literally hanging in this picture, but captured poorly. I was home alone and that is my dominant hand. Oh, and it hurt a little.)

And here is why my daughter says I should not store my candy bars upright (as in the precise way it was displayed when purchased).

All of the caramel ran to the bottom, so when I was having an emergency and broke off a piece from the top of the bar, it was empty (and sad).

Speaking of chocolate, here is another Mother's Day gift...

Awesome, right?

#igotthis #manualplease

I was just reviewing the rules of Fight Club. I know this may seem like an odd way to pass the time, but I needed a refresher, and also to confirm whether those rules were more detailed and easier to follow than the ones involving Twitter usage with my teenage daughter. Suffice to say, I feel more educated on the ways of Fight Club. That is not to say that my actual performance in the club's ring would keep me alive, but I am not dominating the tweetarena (pretty sure that's the lingo, right?) either.

The first and second rules seem to be about the same, except for the parts where they are totally different.

1. The first rule of twittering (another bit of hip lingo, I think?) is you do not talk about twittering.

2. The second rule of twittering is that you DO NOT talk about twittering...unless it is something acceptable for you to comment on. See? See where this all gets a little foggy? From what I have been able to deduce thus far, if a person under the age of old is mentioned, or tagged, (ok, or whatever you call it when you put that @ thing in front of someone's twitter handle...twitter handle? breaker one-nine?) then I should pretend I did not see the tweet and keep all comments, regardless of how hilarious I find them, to myself. However, I should retain some knowledge of what I have seen in the event that information is referenced because a teenage girl should never have to repeat herself.

3. The third rule is probably obvious and falls under the realm of common sense, but everyone is a rookie at some point. Never comment on any tweets seen anywhere other than the regular feed, meaning if you find yourself just casually lingering around after hitting "view conversation" or going directly to someone's page, it is time for a vow of silence. Commit information to your own memory for future understanding of moods, but forget immediately if you think you might actually blurt the now secret data in a random daily dialogue. Your concern is not appreciated.

4. Never ask the appropriate lingo for all Twitter activity, and never call things by the wrong names despite never learning the right names. You are better off making up ridiculous terms, so that your teen knows that you know you are not correct. (I break this rule. Newsflash?)

5. Check your Twitter account daily, even if it baffles you or makes you feel inferior, because you wouldn't want to miss anything...which leads us to...

6. When you see a tweet like this from your daughter (or other significant teen)...

...keep it cool! Keep. It. Cool. Not only did I have warm fuzzies because she loves me, but also because she publicly admitted she is sassy! I was not losing my mind, as her sideways glances had previously indicated.

(She is still speaking to me, so my response must have been acceptable...possibly only because it was Mother's Day. My gosh, there might be different rules for special occasions! )

Happy Mother's Day!

Once again I find myself to be the only one out of bed, let alone awake, early on this fine Mother's Day morning. This does not mean that my visions of breakfast in bed are dashed, as I know where the toaster is, and could easily walk back up the stairs. 

So much pressure associated with today. It's like trying to pick three wishes from a genie. Do I want ultimate control of the television, despite my inability to work the remote control? Maybe less eye rolling and sighing? I could try to cash in these coupons my son gave me several years ago...

I see no expiration dates. That middle one says "good for silent reading", but I believe at the time it meant he would do the reading, a opposed to not disturbing me when I did mine. I keep wondering what coupons they would think appealed to me now.

Happy Mother's Day! May your days be filled with offers and savings you will cherish always!

Now, turning to my own mother, but what photo opportunities are left to share once the floating head pose has been taken? And how did they decide whose head would float, thereby rendering the other person envious for eternity? I came across this non-studio captured moment, and it just may suffice. (It may also explain why we had so many "professional" pics if this skill level was the alternative.)

Like a reverse floating head, right?

For those of you who have been hanging around for awhile, and may be anticipating what clashing outfits my mother and I accidentally wore recently, I am almost sorry to announce that we may have learned our lesson. I wore solid gray the last time I anticipated a photo.

My grandmother, in the middle, stayed away from patterns as well! OK, now looking at these two pictures, is my mother messing with the time space continuum and not aging? I love you, mom! Next year, we are going back to the Sears photo studio…either that or we go next week, since I forgot the plan to do it for this year!

The random tries to return

One would think my brain might be a bit vacant, alphabetically speaking, but instead I started working on a list for next April. Such useful thoughts seem to be shoving the random aside, as well as any other pressing issues I ought to be attending to.

For this week's random offering, I present the photo my daughter says she took for me while on a field trip to Boston.

"Do not enter" indeed, bus full of fourteen and fifteen year old orchestra members! She said when the other kids laughed at her for taking the picture, she told them "My mom is a blogger." I am touched that she thought of me, yet perplexed that she was the only teenager taking a photo. Maybe she was just the only one with a valid excuse?