Well I’m on to Day 2 today–Day 2 of having both kids in school. And let me just say that yesterday flew by–I barely had any time to work on my WIP at all. I need to figure out how to make all this work so I’m not cramming so much stuff in that the book gets lost in the fray. Hopefully I’ll have something worked out by the end of this week. I better.

The first day of school went very well, or so I heard. My little one didn’t even want me to walk him in. His brother took him to class after they ran up the path to school together. They were both excited, and still are today–I hope it lasts all year. I didn’t take it personally (very big of me, I thought)–I got my hugs and let them go.

Today I have a social question, and I’m hoping to gather some advice. My neighbor of approximately six years, I’ve recently discovered, thinks my name is Susan. She said it yesterday and at the pool once this summer, and both times, it was said while she was turning away. I don’t know how to correct this. I’m horrible at situations like this. I feel like things will be painfully awkward if I correct her, and while I’m sure most of you would probably say that it will just get worse, that doesn’t motivate me in any way. The two of us don’t see each other very often, and when we do, it’s just a casual ‘Hi, how are you?’ or a wave, or a few minutes of conversation. I could probably go on indefinitely without ever correcting her. But I’m torn, feeling like I have an obligation and at the same time, wanting to shirk it. My husband says he could mention my real name casually in conversation, but that’ll still make me look like a doofus–I can hear her now, ‘Oh my gosh, I’m so embarrassed! Why didn’t she correct me?’ I have no good solution to this ridiculous problem.

So…anyone? Any thoughts, suggestions?

I have two funny stories to share about my mother-in-law who occasionally reads this blog. Two things to know about my MIL: her favorite colors are white and black (gray is also acceptable), and she has a new Maltese puppy who is very pampered.

So first up…my MIL has decorated her current townhome and her lake house in shakes of white, gray, and black. The lake house is accented with red. She and my FIL have recently purchased the house across the street and plan to completely remodel it for overflow or particularly private (or demanding) guests. Well, I’d bought a black comforter for my upstairs guest room and decided it didn’t go. I asked her if she’d like to have it as it was a very good price and it was black–‘nuf said. In an email, she told me no thank you, she was thinking of going with different colors for the new house.

Different colors?? My eyes bugged. What on earth could she mean? I shared this little tidbit with my husband, and he was similarly curious and incredulous.

So a couple of days later, she visited, and obviously I asked her what colors she was thinking of. Her answer? Brown-black, cream, and reddish orange. I find this pretty darn hilarious. There’s going to be a bizarro-lake house right across the street from the current one. Different colors! Hah!

Next up: the dog. I have been charged with taking care of the little Maltese for a week while they go on vacation. I’ve been wondered about this for some time–how it will go with him being so spoiled and me being so unwilling to spoil him… So we were at the lakehouse last weekend, and she was making his breakfast. She calls me out of the bedroom where I was reading a book to show me how to make his food. Here is the procedure:

1. Grate some frozen liver roll onto a plate
2. Add a handful of dry dogfood pellets
3. Mix in a third of a jar of baby food–that day was Mac & Cheese
4. Mix in a quarter teaspoon of Angel Tears so that his fur does not get stained
5. Slide the plate into the microwave and heat for 15 sec.
6. Offer him the food and give him fifteen minutes to eat it.
7. If he doesn’t eat it, refrigerate and offer it again in 1-2 hours.

I should note here that she always feeds him one spoonful with a baby spoon so that he knows what’s on the menu.

I joked with her that his time at my house is going to feel like a concentration camp compared to what he’s used to. I actually think she’s a little concerned. But what can I say? That’s almost more effort than I expend on my own dinner. Maybe my husband and I should just have frozen liver roll for dinner…