Me: So does this haircut look even more like a mom haircut than my previous one?
Husband: (loyally) No!
Sister: (shouting) Yes!
I dropped Sister off at her dad's house last night. Since my last email to him in which I told him he absolutely would not be taking any of my holiday time with Sister away, I haven't heard from him. We chatted about this a bit and then he, master of the non sequitur, came out with: "I turn 38 on Tuesday."
Me: Yeah, almost 40, huh?
Ex: Oh, no! I need to get married!
Me: (non-commitally) Hmmm.
Ex: I need to get someone to set me up. Maybe I should talk to your Husband.
Me: (at a complete loss as to what to say. Consider suggesting not staying with his parents every frickin' weekend and perhaps, I don't know, getting a job. But if he doesn't know this by now then me telling him won't help. Bless his heart.)
I have once again volunteered to be the troop cookie manager for Sister's Brownie troop. This after performing the role last year and insisting to myself that I would never do it again. For one thing, one of the parents spent the proceeds of her daughter's sales--about $700--and ended up having to get her parents to write a check to cover the amount at, literally, the last minute before I had to turn over the cash to the Girl Scouts head honchos. (Those ladies DO NOT fuck around, just to warn any future Brownie/Girl Scout parents.) Another set of parents bought many boxes themselves just so that their daughter could have a special badge over and above the regular badge that the rest of the troop got. And then spent the last month of the sale trying to get me to buy them all back with the troop's money. On the flip side, the troop's co-leaders dedicate so much of their time that I feel guilty not doing what I can. Throw a little guilt my way and I'm a complete sucker.