One night this week, a mosquito viciously attacked me on the bottom of my foot. It woke me up enough to know I had an itch, but not enough to think clearly. I tried scratching with my non-afflicted foot, but apparently my toenails are too short to be useful. I rubbed the foot on the edge of the bed, but despite the fact that our bed is sharp enough to cause Noah to need stitches in the distant past, it wasn’t sharp enough to ease the itch. I finally took my fingernails and scratched the skin off my foot. When the itch became a burning sting of pain, I ceased scratching and rubbed my abused foot on the sheets until I drifted back into a deep sleep. I blame Oak Ridge for my foot’s discomfort. Everyone knows Oak Ridge has secret laboratories with misunderstood geniuses in lab coats conducting top secret experiments. The evil scientists must produce some sort of mutant mosquitoes. I suspect the giant bugs in Peter Jackson’s version of King Kong were all from Oak Ridge labs. I think we should get an Oak Ridge ????????bat that was modified by the good scientists and let it live in our house to eat all the mosquitoes. Then again, maybe it would be easier to just put malaria netting over our beds so we can survive the East TN summers.

There’s not anything important going on in the world other than a television show is there?

I expect: one explosion, two main character deaths, identification of the coffin resident, the inside of the Orchid and at least two things to keep everyone guessing until February.

Update: One unexpected feel good moment! Thank you LOST!

Me: “You are a first grader now.”
Amy: “No. I’m staying in Kindergarten.”
Me: “No. You will be at the same school, but you’ll have a new teacher so you can learn new things.”
Amy: “No. Miss C is gonna hide us in our cubbies so we never hafta leave her class.”
Me: “Miss C was just joking because she loves you and will miss you.”
Amy: “No. She’s serious. We’re really hiding in our cubbies.”
Me: “Amy, you need to learn first grade things now. You will have a brand new adventure next year.”
Amy: scowling and growling “I am NOT. I am staying with Miss C forever!”

I would be worried about her kindergarten teacher being a sociopath if she wasn’t one of the best teachers we have EVER had. She quietly wove sensory integration into the daily routine, made every child feel loved and focused on each child’s strengths. Besides, she used to work on Sesame Street.

I grew up going to Memphis in May concerts. I went to the free ones on the riverfront and I went to the ticketed events on Mud Island. I drove myself or rode with friends, but I was unsupervised and underage. The events on the river were casual and the police presence was very low key. People wore shorts and t-shirts or they ran around in swimsuits. Everyone sat on blankets and brought a cooler. There was a lot of underage drinking on Mud Island and a slightly smaller amount among the people who brought their own coolers. The music was louder than the people, but everyone was able to talk without screaming. There were food vendors everywhere, even walking through the crowds. The entire area smelled like bbq. The worst part of the events was that you ALWAYS got a sunburn.

We stumbled into the Sundown in the City area last week just to peek at the party. The crowds wandering in and out of the gated area seemed sober and happy. The gates were not to control crowds or charge admission, they were just a controlled way to search what was being brought into the area. This was a ‘buy it from us,’ not a ‘bring a cooler’ event. Once you made it into the gated area, the crowds were absolutely elbow to elbow. It was a giant moshpit, except in moshpits every single person isn’t dangling a cigarette from their fingers. I wonder how many burns were treated in the first aid area that evening. I felt under dressed in my jeans and tank top. Women were wearing heels and going clubbing dresses. Breastfeeding women show less skin than the teenage girls at Sundown. The elbow to elbow conditions worked well for conversations, because talking involved putting your lips to someone’s ear and screaming. It was so loud that the music was almost indistinguishable from the roar of the mass of people screaming at each other. I didn’t have the courage to shove my way down the sidewalk in search of a restaurant that wasn’t elbow to elbow. We ended up going to Cumberland for food. The worst part of the event was that we took our children. The best part was that we learned not to allow our teenagers to attend.

The game of punch buggy has evolved in our family to require announcing the color of the Volkswagon that you are claiming before you slug someone. Sometimes, we just blurt the color before inflicting the punch. IF you are sitting at a red light and a green VW cruises past you, THEN you should not shout “green” and punch your spouse. Doing so MIGHT result in said spouse lunging into the intersection while the light is still red. Of course, I’m just guessing that this is what could possibly happen. I would never do such a thing to my over-caffeinated husband. Well, I would never do it again.

I love going to see movies at the drive-in. It is a much more relaxed, social environment than a regular movie theater. Everyone arrives early to set-up camps. Chairs, blankets, coolers and toys are organized while adults mingle with their neighbors for the evening. Children control the area between the screen and the cars. Girls perform unison cartwheels and handstands while boys throw footballs and tackle each other. Small children giggle and run freely under the watchful eyes of every person there. The back rows are avoided by everyone except the teenagers. The equipment is not modern and the food is not for careful dieters, but nobody cares. For that frozen moment in time, it is a happy car town.

The doomsday clock is counting down toward the end of the Midtown Drive-In in Harriman, Tennessee. In less than 5 years, the theater will be put out of business by the hospital that is being built next door. Hospitals have bright lights that glow all night. The only lighting that drive-ins need are the sparkling stars in the sky over your head. Last weekend, we even had a shooting star to enhance the atmosphere. Sometimes in life, you only recognize in retrospect the moments that were sweet and priceless. Every time we spend an evening at the drive-in, we smile at each other and know that this IS one of the good times. This summer, spend one evening at the drive-in with your family. In the blink of an eye, the drive-ins will be gone and your children will be grown.

Unfortunately, I am going to have to put our laundry fairy on notice. She has not been doing her job in anything resembling an acceptable manner. Her job is very simple and I am certain that she has no other duties to tend to than the following.

Twice a day, she must search under furniture, behind doors, in the bathroom and on the floor beside the bed for dirty clothing. This laundry should be taken downstairs and sorted by color and fabric. All clothing, especially that which is worn by small children should be searched for stains and pre-treated. All pockets are to be emptied of notes, rocks and small toys. The laundry is to be put in the washing machine in small quantities with appropriate amounts of detergents. At the end of every wash load, the clothes should be moved to the dryer and allowed to dry with fabric softener. As soon as the washer is emptied, a new load should be started. When the clean clothing is dry, it should be removed from the dryer to allow a new load to be dried. The clean, dry clothing must be folded, sorted by room, delivered to that room and put away in closets and drawers. There will be one full load of towels and washcloths every day. Additionally five beds and one crib have sheets, pillowcases and blankets that need to be laundered at least once every week.

I know that the laundry fairy is failing because the children have been making verbal complaints about the speed with which their jeans, socks and favorite t-shirts are made available. Since a sudden burst in the quantity of hole-free jeans and shorts, Doug has been unusually quiet about his laundry complaints. The teenagers have made sure to pick up any slack in the level of complaining by making multiple daily protests. Effective immediately, I will be counting the number of complaints made daily. The family can take comfort in the knowledge that their complaints are about to result in changes that will impact their satisfaction with the speed with which laundry is completed. If the laundry fairy continues with this level of dissatisfaction from family members, the laundry fairy will be dismissed and the rest of the family will have to tend to their own laundry needs. I expect this notice will result in an immediate change that will result in a noticeable absence of complaints. Thank you.

We have found one place that is perfect for small children in downtown Knoxville. The lovely Summer at Vs suggested we take our crowd to the Knoxville Pearl to satisfy the “I’m hungry” gamers. I suspect the target audience is college students who think jammies are real clothes, but my children thought it was “awesome.” Sarah created odd blends of different cereals while Amy ate only the cereals that I never buy. I am chocolate’s number one fan, but I will not buy “chocolate” cereal. Evan just made himself at home. The 60’s modern furnishings, the groovy murals and the console television playing cartoons made even the geezers in our group feel like it was Saturday morning again. Just don’t go to the Pearl on Saturday mornings. They open around the time when college students start their day and stay open for anyone who wants to get a head start on breakfast after they leave the downtown pubs.

Sarah: “Mom? I have a question.”
Me: “The answer is no.”
Sarah: exasperated “I didn’t even ask the question yet.”
Me: “You are going to ask to spend the night with E.”
Sarah: “But, tomorrow is the last day of school and my exams are super easy.”
Me: “Congratulations on the end of school. You can spend the night with E when school is over for the summer.”
Sarah: “That’s not fair. You answered before I asked, so you didn’t think about it.”
Me: “I don’t have to be fair. It’s in the rule book.”

I’m so happy that it’s summer vacation. Summer rules are much more fun than school year rules.