Last Thursday, before the snow and sleet hit, I took my Parents and Daughter to the airport. They are now in Paris for 10 days. I’ve been getting regular emails from my girl, who is having the BEST TIME EVER.
I’ve been to Paris three times and each visit was amazing. If I were a small, petty person, I would be jealous. But since I am a large, generous person, I am happy for them. I really, really wish I were in Paris.
My Mother-in-Law is stuck in Milan, Italy until Tuesday because of the surprise snowstorm last Friday. She had been in Venice for a week and was on her way home when all hell hit the east coast airports. She called me to complain on Saturday morning. The conversation went like this:
Me – “You are not whining about being stuck in Milan, right? Because between the shopping and the opera house, if I heard even a breath of pity me, I’d have to kill you.”
Her – “Not everyone is adventure traveler.”
Me – “ I’m overloaded on envy. I have to go back to painting.”
So while everyone else is elsewhere, I am continuing paintapolza. My bedroom and bathroom, including woodwork, took almost three seasons of Buffy on the dvd. I smell like Home Depo.
Last week events conspired to make Mr. Wonderful miserable at work. Early daylight savings made computers wonky. There was a fire in a manhole in Philly, which took down the main video feed between NY and DC. Imagine the screaming news producers. It is like having a kindergarten class throw a huge fit simultaneously, only not as much fun.
Verizon, in its wisdom, had routed the backup feed through the same path as the main signal. *Sigh*
I always told him, work would be easier if stupidity was painful. I wouldn’t know, being aggressively unemployed these days. No wonder I’m not in Paris…
Mr. W was a happy man this weekend though. He and my son came in possession of a book called “Backyard Ballistics.” The jacket says Build potato cannons, paper match rockets, Cincinnati fire kites, tennis ball mortars and more dynamite devices.
This is truly the official manual for my boys. My only stipulation is that I am not putting down the paint roller to take anyone to the emergency room and no one can blow up the new car, now that I can recognize it in a parking lot.
I feel a nap coming on…..