Every once in awhile, on a winter day, the sun will shine! Glory Glory Hallelujah! It's the most wonderful thing in my world.
And then I see that my windows are dirty.
Really quite dirty.
And I don't mind the clouds so much.
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What's more American than teenage boys getting together to challenge each other to drink a gallon of milk in an hour?
Their mothers letting them, I guess.
Let Freedom Ring!
I should mention that when the first boy started throwing up, Braeden was wise enough to stop drinking. He only drank a little over 1/4 of a gallon. He brought the jug home and put it back in the fridge. (milk is precious to that boy) I said, "Did you drink out of that jug?" Ew. I am squeamish about that sort of thing (plus, how long exactly was it out of the fridge?). I wrote his name with a Sharpie on the jug. I don't want to drink germy milk.
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When I have not been contemplating my dirty windows or uncivilized son, my mind keeps revisiting Downton Abbey. Curses on Masterpiece Theater! They drew us in with the sumptuous costumes and the intriguing characters and beautiful house. They drew us in with the unequaled Maggie Smith whose Dowager Countess makes me laugh every time she opens her mouth. They drew us in then left us out in the cold with a cliff hanger ending (and they're not even starting to film the next season until March! The humanity!) and a lot of questions.
1) How can those sisters be so awful to each other?
2) And that wicked lady's maid, O'Brien? She's almost a sympathetic character but not. Quite. What will happen to her?
3) Will Mr. Bates get whatever trouble he has ironed out?
4) Will Matthew finally get smart and give Mary the boot once and for all?
I could go on. (And Adam and I have. At length. We started out talking about Downton Abbey and ended up talking about slavery and Palestinians and Angles and Saxons...)
Oh, but you're not obsessed with it?
Alright then. I'll stop.
Carry on.
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