Soupy, Soupy

I've taken to bringing frozen meals to work so as to avoid purchasing food while there.  We ran out of forks and I was forced to eat my Lean Cuisine with a spoon (too lazy to run to Target and get more forks), which was okay because the sauce made the "meal" soupy and a fork wouldn't have cut it. 

In any case, since I've not had time for reading or blogging, this is a soupy, nonsense blog.  You might want to blow on it so you don't burn your mouth.

1)  I know I'm a couple of days off schedule here, but I was very pleased by Colin Powell's endorsement of Barack Obama as, I'm sure, were you.  I was pleased, too, with The Onion's man on the street:

2)  My elder child has been having some trouble with organization and has been turning in her work late.  In an effort to help her with this, I have been dedicating each day to sitting with her and developing a routine to get her shit together.  We're getting there.  Today, as one of the options she can choose from to complete her spelling work, she wrote a story using her spelling words.  I thought it was amusing.  If you're pretty sure you aren't going to think it's amusing, you don't have to read it.  Skip to number 3.

The librarian asked if I wanted a particular book.

"I like reading about ancient times," I said.

"We don't have any about that, but we have one about a man and his parachute."

"I saw an advertisement about that book," I said.

"How about one about a revolution?" she asked.  "It is about a young man's determination to make the US a free country."

"Are you mocking me?" came a voice from the distance.  Another kid plunged at him. 

I opened the book and read.  I screamed as I fell into a dark, steep ravine.  Then I stopped reading and heard a kid giving sincere apologies to the other kid.  The other kid had a tissue held over his bloody nose. 

I picked up another book about a resident of Brookstone Apartments.  He was a magician.  I heard the condolences of the kid without the bloody nose.  A kid nearby asked me two questions.  I gave her the best solutions I could.

I continued reading.  The magician was brainstorming what tricks to do at the show.  I came to the word "that's" and there was no apostrophe.  I went back to the book about revolution.  They won the war and now they have sovereignty.

3)  It's like something out of a storybook, ladies.  The man of your dreams takes you to one of your favorite hangouts where he prearranged to have the musician who is playing live sing a song for you.  You share a delicious expensive dinner at a restaurant lined with floor to ceiling windows that looks out over the city, all twinkling lights against a black, night sky.  He whisks you away for the night to the room he reserved, lit by dozens of little candles that illuminate the dozens of roses he bought for you and the scores of tiny pieces of paper documenting all of the reasons he loves you.

This may sound over the top, but it is the stuff of  storybooks for a reason.  If you ever find a man who does something like that for no reason, other than to show you how special he thinks you are, hold onto him with both hands, even if there are obstacles.  Remember, most problems (like tear ducts that never act the way you tell them to, an unfortunate lack of coordination that has a detrimental effect on your...rhythm, or an inexplicable reflex that tells you to jump off at the exact wrong moment) can be worked out with the right amount of determination.