Team Gray!

After a mid-April break, things have been rolling at the fairy world of home. We have introduced at least one new character, if not two. Also, a debate broke out over how to name the garden help. Any opinions?

4/30: Everyone somewhat worried that shopping dervish will eat the day. She thinks it’ll all work put in the end.

Tuesday, the beginning of the laundry week. Laundry elf reporting for duty!

5/1: Laundry elf spreads the love, er work around.

Dryer limping along w a little tinkering from laundry elf. And still working on day 1’s clothes approaching day 3.

5/2: Kitchen sprite is thrilled w her new trainee. Or would that be paduan? Acolyte?

5/6: Workout fiend attempted to take over yesterday. Laundry elf asserted herself. Out of order. represent.

5/7: Garden troll was all set to subdue the yard but one step inside, laundry elf took over.

It is one of those days where help is needed all around. Bunnies and minions are sorting and folding today…

…and meanwhile, a committee met to rename teaching gnome to troll, and garden troll to gnome—for alliterative reasons, of course.

Garden gnome is no joke! Thought we’d never get done w the weeding, pruning, raking, bagging, mowing…

That was short. By popular demand, the teacher returns to being a gnome, and the gardener a troll. Who better to say u kids get off my lawn?

5/9: And the twinkles continue…#(piano)teachinggnome

5/10: Teaching gnome: who has been teaching you that you’ve reached 7th grade w/out learning the schwa? #tongueincheek

5/12: Mothers Day belongs to garden troll. Garden troll ate the day. That’s a ghost thing! (good, not ghost! Fat fingering or autocorrect?)

Garden troll told the old ppl, “Get off my lawn!” Or Happy Mothers Day. Same difference.

It was a running kind of weekend. First the kid’s one mile run, and then a 5k for me.

But I didn’t run that for me. I ran it for them.

If I ever have a doubt about that, I can remember Chanya in her race.Here’s this 5 year old little girl who still sucks two fingers when she’s unsure of herself. I held her hand for the beginning and middle of the race. She needed that. But when I let go of her hand, she took off! She was radiant, sprinting to the finish line, after having run a whole mile.

That’s when I knew it was a good thing for me to run the 5k.

When I saw the pride in my husband’s eyes, I knew why I’d signed up. When I hugged my kids afterward, I knew I wanted to keep running.

Luckily for us, the summer running season has just begun.

Imagine a mythical week when three different grade children had 3 different spelling lists, each labeled week 25. I say mythical, because this was neither week 25, nor did all three children have list 25 at the same time. If they had, their sentences together could create this narrative:

The superintendent got acclamation for the lassitude of his culinary sojourn. At the awards ceremony, the superintendent spoke an incomplete syllable before his speech would encroach into ellipse. The ceremony was preceded by a short vaudeville show. The vaudeville playwright put substantive gentility in his comparatively silly show. Afterwards, the superintendent stopped for a bite to eat on the way home to his estate. It is a contradiction to have a reticent chauffeur drop you off at a luncheonette, no matter how heavenly. His baronial estate was palatial, with a ridiculous heathen statue of carbuncle. The superintendent’s wife was eccentric, and raved over the statue. In winter, she took her cactus garden to market.

A birdcage sat next to the carbuncle statue. It housed the superintendent’s beloved parakeet, Princess. The excitable parakeet suffered from the nebulous trauma of a stomachache. The vet prescribed many drugs. The resistible patient wanted to expunge her drugs from the pharmacy, so Princess must regurgitate into her owner’s sombrero. The superintendent’s wife didn’t love this habit, but she knew that until you change, continuity is welcome. The vet told her, “As a postscript to your postoperative skepticism, relegate the tincture.” Those wacky veterinarians!

The estate abutted a working dude ranch. Its head cowboy made a reasonable estimation of the reach of his lasso. The ranch cellar was full of produce, preserves, and pickles. It is always logical to take a basket to the cellar.