Fiddlin' Wormy Thrifty G-String

This morning was a rainy mess. My #1 son delayed our departure
by about 5 minutes. Again. No matter what time I wake him, he
he fiddles about until he is five minutes late. I don't mean actual
fiddling. He's not that talented. If he was, I would pimp him out
for concerts with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra or some
such classy gig. I would make sure he built a big theater in Branson,
like Shoji Tabuchi, and raked in tourist money hand over hand.
Because I would be his manager, of course, and pay myself a
generous cut of the proceeds. On the front of the theater would
be the show schedule. Every two hours, I think, to make good
money without killing my golden-egg-laying goose. And there
would be a disclaimer: All shows will begin 5 minutes after the
scheduled time.

My writing prompt for my DoNots today was: "Something I would
like people to know about me is..." Heavens to Betsy! I wish I'd
never taken the lid off this can o' worms! One revealed that under
his crusty outer layer, he is indeed a Grandma's boy. Another said
she is really NOT nice, like all her teachers assume, but rather she's
a fighter who will not tolerate anybody talking crap about her or
her friends. Another does not take a joke, and can not stand people
he doesn't know coming up and talking to him. He just walks away.
Another warns that he has 4 pit bulls at one parent's home, and six
pit bulls at another parent's home, and that the shotgun is ready, so
be advised not to come a-TPing his house at Halloween. Another
does not like people staring at him and making comments about how
ugly he is, and saying 'He's not MY friend!' and 'I'd NEVER date
an ugly thing like him!' (OK, this one almost made me cry, because
he's just the sweetest thing, and I think he's kinda cute in a motherly
perception kind of way.) Another said he hates everyone, that they
are stupid and lazy and have no idea how to better themselves and
that he does not want to be like them because he is working toward
perfection. Oh, and one said he was born a girl but the doctor said
he would be a boyish girl with short hair and grow whiskers but
inside he is really a girl he just doesn't show it. Whew! And that one
is one you would never guess that about. I thought he was joking
at first, but the more it went on, I'm not so sure. He even asked if
we could read them out loud, and he wanted to go first. He didn't
make a joke of any of the other writing prompts, so this one has me
stumped. I'm wondering if I should mention that to anyone, or if they
will even take it seriously, or if it's just nobody's business. I will make
that one of the two from each class that I have to copy and turn in
with my quarterly Writing Across the Curriculum notebook.

I rushed out of the building with my nine-year-old blue-and-red
$2.99 umbrella. Nobody can say Hillbilly Mom ain't thrifty,
by cracky! The wind almost blew it out of my hands. I left it in the
car at the other building, because hey, I might get another nine years
out of it! Except for that one pointy thing that has pulled loose from
the fabric, it's in pretty good shape. Just don't get your eye near that
pointy thing.

We picked up my guitar after school. The music store was crawling
with people. I forked over my claim ticket, and sent #1 son back to
the car for some money, because I didn't want to spend my fives and
ones when I could get even more fives and ones back if I paid with a
twenty. I have to keep the small bills for everything that gets collected
at school, and to keep #1 son in three-percent fruit juice drinks at
lunch. My guitar was right up front waiting for me. The clerk even
went to the back corner of the store to fiddle with my G-string before
accepting my money.

Now THAT'S customer service!