on why I love watching The Big Bang Theory

The News from Lake Wobegon or someplace like it

Things have been crazy around here the past couple of weeks. Last week, Sarah’s dance studio put on a huge recital. She takes three classes a week there, so she was in three different scenes/dances. There are so many dancers at this studio that in order to give every dancer time on stage, the recital had three different casts: one for each performance. Instead of having all three dances on the same performance night, though, Sarah had one dance each night, which equals eleventy billion dress-rehearsals and performances.

On the exact same nights as Sarah’s dress rehearsals and recitals, AJ had a baseball game, a baseball party where the whole went to a Squirrel’s game in Richmond, and another baseball game the next day. I should mention here that even though I arranged for 37 people to sit together at a minor league baseball game, I forgot to bring my own tickets for me and AJ. I think the look of desperation on my face, combined with the fact that 37 tickets would have to be reprinted, actually helped my cause. The ticket guy let us in with the rest of our group. Whew.

Then we had his playoff game a couple of nights later. Oh. And the annual piano recital. The kids played well, except for the broken key on the grand piano at the recital venue, and except for the piano being so out of tune it sounded “like an upright from a saloon in the Old West circa 1880” (Mark’s words, not mine).  Meanwhile, Mark and I decided to paint our bedroom – the one with cathedral ceilings. Yeah.

So is it any wonder I can’t find my cellphone? I misplaced it and can’t find it anywhere. Sometimes I’m such a nong-nong I can’t stand it. But with all of this craziness, combined with paint fumes and 100+ degree heat, my brain is functioning about as well as microwaved cream-of-wheat.

Please, someone call the patron saint of lost things. I think it’s Saint Anthony. I’m sort of embarrassed to say the little chant/rhyme, so maybe one of you can do it for me.  First, have him find my phone, and then ask what I have to do to find my brain. But the phone is more important. Can’t do anything without my phone – I’ve been functioning fine without a brain for the last 12 or so years, but my phone? I don’t know how I’ll make it to tomorrow.