Suh-mer-taaahm. . .

And the livin' ain't easy...

So, Cousin and I have been playing a little email-tag.

We try to mail to each other the worst of the worst of those email lists that either propose to lift you to a new spiritual awareness with all of their new-age advice, appall you with their racial connotations, make you bite your fingernails about what is to come if you've had a boy-child, or make you throw up a little in your mouth with the disgusting photos people have produced and sent out to millions via the Internet.

And we haven't even gotten around to porn yet.

She started it and she's WAY out in front at the moment. Apparently she's got 'a guy' out there, out West. A supplier.

Anyway, her most recent email, titled 'just thought you should know' contained a list of 40 (yeah, that's right, FORTY) "Tips for an Exceptional, Superb & Powerful Life!"

I thought to myself upon opening, how can I ignore THAT? I mean, life can ALWAYS get better, can't it? Especially now that a couple of neighbors and I have started weight watchers and I'm eating WAY too much fiber and paying the price of it later (and yea, I just learned about the wondrous effects of Beano).

So I spent two minutes OF MY LIFE reading the forty tips to a better, no, SUPERB life.

This particular email was on the serious side. It took it's advice seriously as though the author truly had the goal in mind of making an Internet's population of readers obtain that superb and powerful life they've always wanted. All we had to do was accept this key to the lock. And the advice itself was actually pretty good. All that 'what I learned in kindergarten' type of stuff like take walks, don't worry about what other people think about you, spend time with kids and the elderly, etc. But what is infinitely annoying is the author's paltry attempt at humor: "Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day. Buy a lock if you have to."
My mom came to mind on that one where we would all, including my cat, follow her into the bathroom. I bet she wished she had locked the door.

With these little additions (don't forget the lock!) the author is giving us this key to our new superb life, but knows that his little gems may be a bit difficult to swallow so here's a little spoonful of sugar for you thought the author, adding a little chuckle.

I considered printing out Number 14 and pasting it on the inside of Eight's door to her room: "Don't waste your precious energy on gossip, energy vampires, issues
of the past, negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead, invest your energy in the positive present moment."

I have finally learned that she loves drama so much that she'll make it happen if it's not happening itself. Last night was a perfect example.

It was only day four of summer and already I had heard her say that she was "bored out of her mind" no less than five times.

It is partially my fault. I've had a paper deadline and have been (or tried to be) focused during Big's naps, and the neighbor kids hadn't gotten out of school yet so while that saying is like fingernails on a chalkboard to someone who dreams of having nothing to do, I could understand. So, as yesterday evening approached, with an over-tired and somewhat under-the-weather Big having woken up early from his nap, and me, frustrated with his shorter-than-normal nap which translated into no down time for me, I remembered that Four-of-Four's dance rehearsal, going on that evening, was a blast to go see and that Eight might really enjoy!

Me: Why don't you call [Four-of-For] and see if you can tag along?
She: Grump. Ump. Harumpfh!
Me: ? Go on Honey. You'll have a blast. And you know how summer goes? It gets moving, we get busy, we all go on vacation and pretty soon it's over and you haven't spent much time together. Go on!!!
She: Will you call for me?
Me: No, Honey. Be strong. Do something for yourself! Make something happen for you!

She finally went and had a blast. She saw friends from school, was free to run around the place for a few hours, ate at Wendy's (we never go to burger joints so this is a real treat for her), and got home past 9 p.m. (a full hour past even her summer bedtime)!

How wonderful!

As I was putting her to bed we spent five minutes or so talking about the day and the day to come. I was imagining how fun it must have felt to run free with her friends through the school where the recital was being held. Cousin and I used to explore this huge old building of my parents' Eagle's club when we were little and had a blast.

Me: So, did you have fun?
She: Yeah. I guess so.
Me: What? You didn't?
She: Well, YOU could have called for me.
Me, suppressing any anger or residual rage and attempting to change the topic: Well, what did yo see when running around?
She, in a sarcastically slow voice as if saying "are you friggin' stupid?": We. Saw. People. Watching. A. Dance. Recital."

Obviously, this was going nowhere, I thought.

Me: So, tomorrow we're going to the pool with [Four-of-Four], [Big] and Big's friend Sophia! Doesn't that sound like fun??

She: But Big and Sophia will want to play with me. . . And then I won't get to play with Four-of-Four!

Me: Now that sounds like an okay problem to have! Lots of people wanting to play with you?

She, not letting me turn it around: But. . .

I finally realized that she just enjoys the drama. The process of creating drama. Listening to the drama. Figuring out how to drama anything and everything.

Drama is my new verb.