Heard over breakfast yesterday:

Oglet: My boss sends out emails about once a week, asking who is available for the weekend.
Me: To do stagehand work?
Oglet: Yeah, and other stuff. Helping with sets and sound and etc.
Me: And does he get volunteers?
Oglet: Mostly excuses. Problem is the idiots always hit “Reply all”
Me: So everyone gets to hear everyone’s excuses?
Oglet: Yes. And we really don’t need to know. We don’t want to know that you can’t come because you need to see your doctor because of something you caught at the Christmas party, or you need to get a salve for some rash you got, or you hate to leave your apartment because you suspect your roomate is sexually abusing your dog in your absence.
Me: So they don’t understand whey they hit “Reply all” they’re sending this info to everyone?
Oglet. Nope. And it isn’t as if they’re geezers. These are teensgers who grew up with computers all around. That’s the sort of thing I would expect from Gramma, not kids I go to school with”

The Oglet is back off to school.

The house feels empty again, no more teenager wandering around the kitchen in PJ’s looking for Captain Crunch, no more giggling in the bedroom as mom and dad tried to sleep, no more hugs in church after mass. At least not for a while.

The old Explorer is plenty reliable but I always breathe easier when I get the call that she has made it. Especially in this weather. I can’t help but worry, I’m the dad.

On my feet a lot

all week. And all next week too. And then the shot show. By the time it’s over I will need to lie down for a month.

Still, standing and walking is what I need, and need a lot of it.

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