Things we've learned.

1.  Dermatological exams are surprisingly thorough.

2.  And for a surprising reason--3% of all melanomas occur in the "gluteal crease."  Meaning that you can get skin cancer where the sun don't shine.  Bummer. In a manner of speaking.

3.  I have a mole--normal looking, apparently--in my bum-crack.  Be sure to work that in if anyone ever asks you to describe me.  "Blondish.  Mediumish hair.  Mediumish build.  Mediumish height.  Mole in her crack."

4.  You really shouldn't go a decade or so without pumping out your septic.  WE'VE only lived here two years, so it isn't our fault.  We noticed that the ground around the septic was sinking.  Our neighbors informed us that this is Bad.  We were not at all surprised given our track record with this house.  Go to fix a wire--20K worth of rewiring.  Poke the porch and the wood crumbles.  Drill a hole in the wall and demons fly out.  So we had the septic guy out.  His truck is a bright happy blue and has a drawing of a toilet with flowers in the bowl (okay--is it lawn art?  'cause, shouldn't proper septic care keep you from having plant-growing matter in your toilet?) and it says "Du-Du Truk."  I swear to you.

He was incredibly bummed that Steve wasn't home.  He was all primed to teach him about septic systems ("Yeah, I guess I was asking a lot of questions."  Thanks.  I couldn't even doodle while he nattered on).   "He shouldn't have left you to deal with this stuff.  Now I'll have to try to tell you."  He said that "try" like wimmin fo'k can't quite handle that sort of information.  Either too stupid or too delicate.  Maybe both.  "I'll just tell you and then you can give him the poop."  I swear he said that.  And I said (of course), "Aren't you going to take that with you?"  And he doesn't seem to know what to say.  Am I serious?  Maybe I AM concerned that he'll just pump it all out and leave it with us to do with what we will....was it one of them joke thingies?  "Oh, I'll take that...heh heh...Um, I wasn't gonna call it that.  But if that's what you wanna call it."  After that, when telling me all the FACINATING ins and outs of septic systems (ours is a Babylon.  He was relieved.  So to speak) he switched from referring to "waste water" to calling it "poop."  I shit you not.  As it were.  "Well, the poop goes down this tube here..."  Meanwhile, my macaroni is over cooking and I know I can't ask Julianna to turn off the burners b/c the fire panics her.  I finally escaped with a handout (yes!  A handout!  Thank god there wasn't a power point presentation).

Later, he honked the horn to tell me he was done.  I went out and he said, "Do you want the bad news or the good news?"  Ah, lordy, with this house we are SO used to bad news.  Just lay it on me. "Well, if you don't want to have to pump every year, you've got to stop flushing man things and woman things down."  I was all "Okay dude, what do I owe?"  But I was thinking, "Man things?  Woman things?" Footballs and nail polish?  Girlie mags and hair dryers?  Neckties and heels?  So, okay, I can get that he means tampons...but the other?  Is it condoms?  Neither of which are really a problem from our house's current residents, but still.  He claimed there was a "thick mattress" of semi-solid stuff.  Nice image.  Thanks.  Good news is nothing is wrong with the tank.  The sinking is because of the dirt between the tank and the walls of the hole dug to sink the tank settling.  Shouldn't get any worse.  So I shouldn't have to talk to septic guy (who continued to express his belief that I shouldn't have been left to deal with this.  Dude, I have 3 kids and an incontinent dog.  This is a BREAK) for another 2 or 3 years. If I can avoid flushing woman things.

Okay, rip it off.

The band-aid, that is.  Your mind is in the gutter.  The longer I go between posts, the harder it is to jump back in.  I feel like I have to fill in all that's happened and that's daunting.  I'll think, "Don't be an idiot.  It's a diary.  So just write."  As if.  This is all about the feedback.  If no one every lol-ed me, I'd quit entirely, fame (okay, just attention) whore that I am.

So.  Here we are.  School year wrapping up.  We had our End-of-Year-Picnic and Silent Auction yesterday.  It went really well, I think.  I'd helped Ben's and Julianna's classes to make class projects to auction off and helped to organized getting someone to work on the other projects.  Those class items did really well.  Better than the stupid baskets, so nyah.  Some dude paid $100 for the nightstand Julianna's class painted and made to look like the work of a schizophrenic.  Enjoy, oh arts patron!

On Thursday, I'll accompany Julianna on her 3rd grade camping trip. In the Montessori school, third grade is the end of lower elementary.  Next year, they go to upper el, so this is a rite of passage type of thing.  We're going to Rocky Gap State Park which is in Flintsone, Maryland.  Apparently, I'll be using some sort of sharp-beaked bird to play my phonograph records.  We all loaded up the wagon and went to Montgomery County to buy provisions for our trip.  There's an REI store, so we got the Hobitat 4 tent.  It's a tad more money than the leaky $45 number I got at Target last week.  But I'm willing to pay to be dry.  I'm too old to shiver in the cold.  Now my only quandry is caffeine--how to get it into my system as soon after waking as possible. I'm unlikely to be the only addict in the group (although, amusingly, the one other parent with whom I discussed my twitchy distress is Mormon.  I'm sure he felt smug), I just need to find out who's making the Starbucks run.

Lily's dance recital is in two weeks.  Just in time for her to reach that really contrary 3 and a half year old stage where she delights in not doing what is expected of her.  I fully expect her to sulk and refuse to go on.  I'll be sure to post pics.

And speaking of pictures, I have lovely ones from this year's fairy festival.  I'll get to them.  Promise.

Behind the Barking

Next on VH-1, a special "Behind the Barking"... Fredo had it all--a new family, the status of "America's Next Top Dog"...but then it all went sour.  Too many stolen treats, misplaced defecation, it all nearly ended, one beautiful day on the roof.


Steve has the full report.