when i pulled in the driveway last night the garage door was open and the family was outside. i knew we had to rush to get to the school honors night, but i did think we still had a bit of time.
however, it wasn't me they were waiting on. when they got home there was a dog in our driveway. an all black bull/pug looking dog. the boy apparently immediately named him max. they fed max. three bowls of food. they petted max. (max really is cute.) when we went in the house max tried to wheedle his big head in the door. princess meow meow's tale grew 10 times it's normal size.
when we left for the school event, max jumped in the car. i think he must be interested in education. after a bit of cajoling we got him out of the car.
off to school where my bright shining stars got recognized for being on the honor roll for the first quarter of the year. a great accomplishment (they do it most all the time).
home. thankfully?, yes, thankfully max wasn't waiting for us. he was just roaming the neighborhood and found his way back home. the boy was a bit upset. max was really cute.
vicki, vicki, vicki. so i'm getting worried about my arm. big (mothering) t harped on me (as did the hubs) to call the doc about my x-rays since i had them tues. i called yesterday. everything is ok. hmm, well if everything is fucking ok why does my arm feel the way it does? if it's not better next week they want to do an mri. during the day it is uncomfortable. when i get home in the evening it starts getting worse. last night i tried holding out on taking vicki, cos ya know there are things i really really really wanted to do. i broke down and took two of those vicki bitches. it felt better after awhile but it wasn't really the evening ending i was looking forward to.
is it still called pouting if you're directing it at yourself?