Tuesday, March 21, 2006

I Am Beginning to Sense a Pattern

Wtih my son, that is.

And that pattern would be checks. Or checkerboard. Whatever.

I give you example Number 1: the truck

When my son received his driver's permit, one of his uncles gave him a smallish truck. It needed a some work to smooth out the mechanics but, over all, it is a sound little thing. It wasn't too long after he had it that he dicided he wanted to...personalize it, I guess, by painting it. I can't tell you how many times I got the phone call "Um...I need more black paint." Or, "Um... I need more red paint."

Or...masking tape.

Lots and lots of masking tape.

Crates of masking tape.

Now, those of you who might know this kid know he has never exactly been the type to go out of his way to attract attention. So what, then, is this all about?

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When you look up the word "tenacity" in the dictionary...yep, there's his picture.

On the bright side, he'll never be able to covertly wreak havoc in this vehicle. I have already heard from numerous people that "You just can't miss that truck driving through town..."

Now, I have to pause here to let you in on a funny little story. It just so happens that one day he locked his keys in the truck. This was a day that he had an event with the ski club. He called to let me know of his predicament and I told him that I get his dad and we'd head down and try to open it up. A little later, I was checking the messages on my cell phone and found this...

"Ummm...when you go to open up the truck...it's parked in the elementary school lot, right in front of the doors. Well, not right exactly in front. It's actually down from the doors a little bit but it's in the front row. It's more toward the flag pole. Ok."


Uh huh.

It's a BLACK AND RED CHECKERED truck. How could I have any trouble finding it?


Now for example Number 2: the suit

The high school recently had a film festival where the students were invited to make films for a competition. The winner walked away with a $1,000 savings bond. They pulled out all the stops, having a Friday evening showing with lovely programs and everything. The students were told that they would not be charged an entrance fee if they dressed up.

I guess this was all my son needed to hear. I have to say, he is one of the most frugal people I know. So frugal that he was willing to go out in public like this...

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That's just plain brave if you ask me.

I began to wonder about this whole checkerboard thing. I tried to scour the internet to search what a checkerboard pattern might reveal about one's personality but, alas, the only thing I could come across were some tips on decorating a kitchen. As it is, my son should use toile de juoy fabrics for the windows and perhaps a rustic hickory finish on his cabinets.

Who knew?

I can just see trying to impart this bit of wisdom to him.

Me: So, you're remodeling your kitchen.
Me: Are you going to use toile de juoy for your curtains?
Me: Well, are you?
Son: Toile what???
Me: You know, toile de juoy. And a rustic hickory finish on your cabinets.
Son: I'm painting the cabinets plaid.

Ah, yes, I can see it all now.

And while I'm chatting you all up on my boy, I may as well get in a little bragging. This week National Honor Society and 13 out of 24 in his first ever motorcycle race. Yay!

What a kid.

And fear not, dear daughter...your day is coming. Oh yes...your day is coming...

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Oh! The Iron(y)!

Long time, no post. I know. I know. Don't even start.

So the other night, hubby, daughter and I were lying about the living room watching a movie - I don't know what, we've been donig the Harold Lloyd marathon lately - when son poked his head in the door. He just kind of stood there for a couple minutes and then, in his own unique way of talking without actually moving his jaw even a fraction of an inch, said "Where is the irony?"

Which stopped me dead in my tracks.

Where is the irony?


Is this my son? Is this my very own boy waxing linguistic? I mean, some days the deepest question I might get from him is "Are you going to be done in there soon?" as he waits impatiently on the other side of the bathroom door.

Where is the irony?

My husband paused the movie and, kind of in a slow-motion manner - at least it seemed that way - we all swung our world weary heads to this new teenage philosopher. We looked at him for what seemed an eternity, waiting, waiting for the next bit of prophecy.

Actually, it was probably only seconds until hubby said "What?"

And then my son, this young intelligentsia, this, this, disciple of reasoning, said a little more clearly...

"The iron. Where is it?"

Which, given the source, is just as amazing a question.