They get younger every day

I’m leaving for Wisconsin tomorrow morning, nine at the latest.  I hear the sun is shining there, and I know there are Baltimore Orioles and cedar waxwings at Ann’s feeders, where I can sit on the kitchen porch for a week and just take pictures.  I packed the tripod.

Usually I travel on a Friday, but too many obligations today: one doctor appointment, a prescription to pick up, a pile of papers at work that needed done today (not yesterday, not Monday ((government stuff!)), and, ta da, I could retrieve my new summer sneakers from the shoe maker. 

I’ve never met the man who puts lovely lifts in the soles of my right shoes.  I drop them off, the drycleaner in the rest of the store receipts the shoe and I pick it up same day, one week later.

The doctor and work were accomplished without a hitch and off for my two right shoes.  They’re really cool, one pair is Rocket Dogs and the other Converse.  But they weren’t to be had.  They forgot to send them out last Friday; they will be ready Monday. Oh well.

On to get the prescription.  At the register I asked to see the contents of the prescription bag; it was far too flat to hold the two month supply.  An even younger clerk than at the dry cleaner explained, in a high, clear monotone, there were only five pills in stock, the rest would be in Monday’s delivery. My explanation that I would be gone all next week and five pills were inadequate yielded  a blank stare.  “There are seven days in a week,” I explained, and the man at the next register chuckled loudly.

Actually, I’m fairly decent at dealing with “it’s OK because this situation does not inconvenience me.”  I don’t leave until there is a solution.  The pharmacist told the dear young thing to call other local(ish) drug stores in the chain, and on the third call she hit pay dirt.  Unfortunately pretty far south, but I could, and did go there.

I got home just in time for supper, and found today is report card day and we would be treated to ice cream by Aunt Janice because all grades were A’s and B’s.  Way to go. Both Emily and Hamilton woke up and saw the easiest way to their future didn’t involve throwing away their good fortune with both hands. 

Hamilton tucked into studying; he brought home a 3.9.  Emily recently admitted it was far easier to get a decent grade than to improve a bad one.  After ending her last semester with a 3.9 her grades went into free fall, back when she was being stupid.  But she came up here at mid-term with a 3.8.  Good for her.

And little Laura just keeps on.  Her only “bad” grade is gym.  She did not pass the Ohio motor skill requirements, specifically track and pull ups.  Or push ups.  Or something.  “But gramma, I hate doing those.”  I told her she might have to go to summer school for gym.  She thinks she’ll put some effort into it in time for the grade at the end of the year.  She did make first cornet!

Anything you want to know about cedar waxwings