Is it Fungi or Fungii?

Yet another boring post about housekeeping. Are we beginning to notice a pattern here?

Today, I am cleaning out the fridge. So far I have pulled out all of the stuff (used to be labeled leftovers until the first week passed by) and put it on the counter. The garbage bag was full and needed to be taken out. It's so ever loving hot out there I figured I could stand to blog a little before doing that.

Back to the fridge. Why is it not as wasteful to throw out moldy, sometimes unidentifiably so, leftovers instead of just chucking them immediately after dinner/lunch/breakfast/midnight snack/extra dinner? I cannot bring myself to throw things away so I seal them up and place them in the fridge. And sometimes, if I'm really lucky, somebody will come along and eat them. Most times, especially in the case of leftover rice/soup/casserole, it just sits. After a period of time ranging anywhere from 1 week until the taxes are due next year, they are thrown out. While I am sad, and a little upset with myself for the waste... and for not being the kind of chef who can whip up an excellent meal from a leftover hamburger, one slice of pizza, half a cantaloupe and the rice... I move on, relatively unscathed. But, watch my daughter attempt to dump an entire, perfectly good, leftover serving of green beans? I will. not. have. it.

If this was January 1, here is where I would be making the resolution to try harder to cook just what we need. Speaking of that, why is it when I cook "just what we need" everyone wants seconds? But when I make two meatloaves I end up with a meat loaf and a quarter? Which, in the end, is really okay because everybody loves leftover meatloaf sandwiches with ketchup. But isn't so very good when the main dish is beef stroganoff.

Also, completely off topic, those of you who responded to my flyboy post, I appreciate your words very much. We sat down and wrote a letter to Joan LeRoy expressing our sadness and also letting her know how much that visit meant to our son.

YAWN

You know how you have one of those nights where it feels like you're sleeping, but maybe you're not? The kind of night where it might be more of a doze, but it just seems like you're aware of your surroundings the whole night through? Last night was one of those nights for me. Plus, I stayed up too late because...well, because that's what I do, I guess. I get up every morning with my husband at 4:30 (not because I love getting up with him but because if I don't get up, he doesn't get up...and if he doesn't get up, nobody's getting paid). I did the same this morning, and really bounced to it, considering. I did all the dishes that I neglected last night for a wild evening of generally doing nothing. I even cleaned the clutter in the living room. Then I just kind of sat there... on the couch...with a book. And honestly, I would still be there if my husband hadn't called and needed me to look up something online.

It is too hot to be really and truly awake anyway.

FlyBoy...Part Two

A few posts ago, I mentioned taking my son to an airshow. At that airshow he met a couple of the stunt pilots: Skip Stewart and Jim LeRoy. We had just finished watching their amazing show "Tinstix of Dynamite". At one point, during the show, a huge explosion went off and quite a few of us thought it was a plane that had crashed. Especially since a freaked out Freddy next to us said, "That had to have been a plane..." I found myself thinking, in that split second before we saw all three planes rise to the sky, "What are we doing here? With our son? Would we really want him to witness a plane crash?" ...and they do happen. A lot. Afterward, there was a meet and greet with those pilots. My husband told them how crazy they were. My son stared at them with the sparkly eyed wonder that only children are capable of achieving...before someone comes along and pulls the rug of imagination out from under them. Jim LeRoy got down on his level, shook his hand, gave him an autograph and told him about flying. Told him how it was no tougher than trying to drive while eating a Big Mac. Told him how happy he was to meet him. To come see him again. He stood, with a smile, and moved on to the next family. And we were impressed. By both him and Skip Stewart...and I felt okay again about airshows.

and then...

Jim LeRoy was killed in a plane crash this last weekend in Dayton, Ohio:

http://news.cincypost.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070730/NEWS01/707300367

And this is when it sucks to be a parent. Because I cannot wipe away the sadness in my little flyboy's eyes...because I am too sad myself. Because I cannot make it "okay". Because all I can think of is a little 4 year old boy who lost his daddy. Because, on Saturday, that rug under my son got tugged on a little too hard.

Thank you Jim LeRoy, for taking the time for my son. You were a consummate showman.