My life is a farce

The campers all arrived last night in varying states of health. Evidently a stomach flu was making its way around the camp and D. succumbed just before getting in the car to come home (at least J. had a heads' up and was able to lay in appropriate supplies... which were needed) and B. spent more time than he wanted in the bathroom last night. It seems to be a 24 hour thing, though, because D. is up and back to his old perky self again. J. and TM had a good time together, though a very soggy one. No rock climbing for them first because of the rain and then because the rocks were too wet. (And I feel really badly for J. because he feels about rock climbing the way I feel about horses.) There is a pile of luggage containing laundry I'm sure I don't really want to touch in the front hall which needs to be tackled this morning. But everyone is home and that makes me happy.

I caught a little bit of a radio show yesterday morning as I was getting dressed and the question was asked, "What kind of literature genre would describe your life?" And truly the only thing I could come up with was farce. Why do I say this? If you've read this blog for any length of time, I certainly hope you don't have to ask. But, maybe some of these items will help to convince you if you are still unsure.

• When I was at our local big box store last week buying essentials such as paper towels and toilet paper, I saw two large pieces of cardboard just lying on the floor. If you live with a cardboard obsessed child like I do, you don't pass by a piece of cardboard without examining it and this cardboard was particularly nice, big, flat, and with no printing. "Perfect for dinosaurs!" I think to myself and pick it up. But it is so large it doesn't fit in the cart so I sort of balance it through the rest of the store, but it makes a complete blind spot on my right side so I have to push the cart while walking like Frankenstein so as to not run into anyone. 
• I think at some point, when the machines in our life have given up trying to do us in, the house will just collapse and take care of us for them. Why? Because the amount of small screws I find about the house is enormous. Where do they all come from?! I used to save them. Carefully. Because they must have come out of somewhere and screws generally hold things together. It seemed important to replace them. But I can never find where they come from. So now I throw them out. And some day everything will collapse because the important screws holding it all together are gone.
• I have twin four year olds.
• And a labrador puppy.
• The level on ESL-speak (that kind of speech you use when talking with someone who is not fluent in your language) has risen significantly. First, H. is still learning and I find holes all the time which means at any given moment I need to stop and give a 15-20 minute language lessons to clarify and teach more vocabulary. Frustratingly, it always seems to be words that we use everyday. (Remember I am not patient by nature.) I think it's because when she first came home her brain stored things more inefficiently than it does now and things learned earlier are not accessible. Plus, the young mother here speaks Spanish and a little English. I don't speak Spanish, but I speak a little itty-bitty bit of Italian which in many ways is extremely similar. It is an interesting language concoction we have going on around here.
• I also bet that none of you have to worry about a large scale T-Rex jumping out at you when are you least suspecting it, either. Yesterday, M. called me to come and see something, so I blithely leave my room to head to hers. I knew it was probably something to do with dinosaurs, but I really wasn't expecting a large T-Rex opening it's mouth right in front of me when I left the room. It was... startling. I did eventually catch my breath. 

Farce. We could probably be a highly popular entertainment venue if we could figure out how to sell tickets and arrange the seating.