Resurrect Mr. Fluffles!

Okay-- we'll get to Mr. Fluffles in a minute. In other news...

I'll never be a silver fox...Okay-- I was never a red-coated fox either but I DID used to have red hair. I say used to, because, well, it did turn brown with age, and then the gray started and now? I'm sitting in my kitchen watching the time stamp so I don't cook my newly trimmed curly locks before they have the chance to turn the color of rancid orange sherbet. The Time Bitch, she is just frickin' evil...

So, to clarify (because stuff has come up) from some of my previous posts...

T is going with a group-- because I am just NOT that comfortable turning him loose in public, especially in a foreign country, where he will be misconstrued as a mugger from sheer size and inability to speak clearly when pressured and yeah- he graduates on the seventh, in downtown (and it promises to be a big pain in the ass in terms of parking, saving seats, whose coming, who's going to get the kids, and, well, EVERYFRICKINGTHING. But we'll deal. Last night we FORCED him (no lie) to go to his senior awards assembly where he got a President's Certificate for academic achievement. He was surprised--not only did he need the GPA, but usually you need test scores for one of those--UNLESS your teachers recommend you, which his did. We were proud. T was bewildered--and also suffering from a complex mixture of unrequited love and envy that I would explain if it wasn't going into too much detail about his personal life (which, now that he's an adult, I try not to do.)

And Zoomboy has picked up a boyshit. At least that's Chicken's opinion--she heard a little boy talking to him, and (like we all do) said "Zoomboy respond!" because he wasn't. And then, UNLIKE what usually happens, he continued to ignore the little boyshit on purpose, and Chicken paid attention and realized that boyshit was making fun of Zoomboy's given name. Chicken said, "Mom, he was a second grader--I totally could have beat the shit out of him. I don't care if it's not cool." *sniffle* Well, two emotions there, right? Damn the whole world for turning out bullies anyway, and I'm glad that Zoomboy is self-contained enough to ignore him and I hope that keeps working for him. Apparently Zoomboy's best friend turned to the kid and said, "Where are YOU going? Because HE'S coming home with ME!" I love that kid-- I mean, I loved that kid before this, but now I REALLY love that kid. It's so damned ironic--because my whole life I've believed that different was good and set out to prove that one by example, and the only time it's bit me in the ass is when I've seen it effect my kids. But Chicken endured this sort of thing and came out stronger for it--I hope Zoomboy can do the same. Oh yeah--the other emotion? Chicken pride. She was TOTALLY going to beat up that little boyshit for picking on her little brother. *wipes tear* That's my baby.

In other Chicken news-- a couple of weeks ago, we were driving past a community garden plot in time to see four young, hot AND hawt young men take off their shirts to start digging. It was the highlight of Chicken's month. She can't pass the community garden plot without looking out eagerly, hoping for lightning to strike twice.

In Squish news--well, mostly she's just talking a lot. I mean, a LOT. And she's fractious and whiny and occasionally (like, say, last night,) brilliant. So, this was the conversation I overheard last night:

Zoomboy: "Bzz Bzz--and this is the outer space electrogun and it's aiming and taking things out and making explosions!"

Squish: "Aww! Mr. Fluffles! You killed my cat!"

ZB: "How did I kill your cat?"

Squish: "You electrocuted him with your gun!"

ZB: "Oh. Poor Mr. Fluffles. I'm sorry. I'll only aim it at aliens from now on."

Uhm... frickin' brilliant--but very scary.

And yes-- I've FINISHED Talker's Graduation. It's sort of an extended epilogue-- we wanted to see the boys happy. Well, happiness from where we left them was a long process--but after book two, it was pretty clear they were going to be there for eachother nmw, right? So they were. I think people will be pleased at how their relationship evolved--and at how much Tate grows in the course of the novella. I know it was hard--every word really WAS goodbye!

And speaking of goodbye, I couldn't tell you exactly why this was floating around my noggin today, but it was, and so I thought I'd share: