Tap, tap… is this thing still on?

Oh, there you are.

Oh, here I am.

It has been a crazy, busy few days, and that is all the excuse I have for leaving blogland in the dust. I taught biotechnology and chemistry on Thursday. It was grand. Fun. I mean it. And then the Wilhites gathered around the computer to watch basketball. And we didn’t actually cry, but we had sadness when the Gators* whupped up on our Jimmer.

And Friday? Oh, Friday. It was Writers’ Fest at Clark N. Johnsen Junior High school. Their amazing committee (Hi, Mrs. Blythe!) put on a Great Show. Loads of authors (and at least one illustrator) came to talk and talk and talk about the craft, the joy, the pain, the love, the headaches and the chocolate. Okay, I didn’t talk about chocolate, but I brought plenty home. I was assigned two adorable minions (Hi, Amy! Hi, Katie!) who made sure I was where I was supposed to be and that I never dried up my bottled water or my sense of humor. For some of the classes we talked about cupcakes, and how cupcakes are good, but if you eat nothing but cupcakes you will have issues. Likewise, if you only read one kind of writing, you might get some issues as well. So… balance in diet and in literacy = good. In some classes we talked about money, and getting blocked, and people who have very good hair, and favorite junk foods, and hey, it’s okay if you hate to read, just make sure you do it anyway.

And Saturday we painted in the bedroom at my MIL’s house. I am sadly incapable of painting without wearing the paint. I do a fine job actually painting, but I’m not one of those people who can paint for a few hours and nobody knows about it. Oh, you’ll know about it when I’ve been at it. I had honeywood paint freckles upon my face and in my contacts. I am not making this up.

And Saturday was the Festival of Color, the closest Utah gets to India. I didn’t go. But the photos are glorious, and I want to throw paint. Note to self: Get there next year.

Also, Saturday evening, Kids 1 and 2 and I rediscovered that our Sympathetic Vomiter chromosome is alive and kicking. I’m happy to report that none of us actually vomited, but, oh, we wanted to. I’ll spare you the details. You’re welcome.

Tonight Kid 1 leaves for New York City. I’m giddy with excitement for her. And I’m having very few nerves. (That’s her Daddy’s job this time.) She will see many shows and, if all goes according to plan, keep all her friends. *crossing fingers* And her chaperone has asked me to sub, so I get to spend the week teaching AP English and theatre. Don’t cry for me, Argentina**. I think I’ll do just fine.

Also someone (who is not us) is using my credit card. If it is you, I’m asking you nicely to knock it off. Right now. And the nice customer service lady from India said it would stop. So I hope. (She was very proper, but kind of patronizing, and I had to keep reminding myself that it’s the middle of the night where she’s working, or she’d be more patient with me. That’s the downside of outsourcing, I guess.)

*That word always reminds me of that funny scene in Monsters, Inc. when Randall gets pushed through a door at the end. ” ‘Nother gator, Mama.” ” ‘Nother gator? Gimme that shovel.”

** Did you ever see the movie Kronk’s New Groove? Probably not. It’s the sequel to The Emperor’s New Groove, and isn’t very much what I would call entertaining. But it has one funny line, where Kronk’s two secretaries, Tina and Marge, get a little weepy, and he says, “Don’t cry for me, Marge and Tina.” Ha. There. Now you don’t have to see it.