Sunday, July 20, 2003
I noticed the other day that I passed 10,000 hits here on the blog. That makes me happy. I think. I worry that you people felt the need to come back here 10,074 times to see what the hell I'm prattling about, but I suppose that's your problem. I'll keep up my end of the bargain by posting random incoherent nonsense, and you can just keep coming back to read it.
I do still wish I had been able to save my archives...and the new blog here doesn't seem to be archiving at all yet. Curiouser and curiouser.
Oh well. I won't think about that now. I'll think about that tomorrow. (This concludes the Scarlett O'Hara portion of our evening. Now on to some other portion of our evening...)
...did fuck all. It's surprising how accomplished one feels when one has done absolutely fuck all. I mean, I feel exceedingly satisfied with myself.
Okay, I did do SOME stuff. I updated Chaos in Motion. That's something.
And I built forts out of various objects of furniture and blankets with my kids, after which, I proceeded to crawl around on the floor with a pot on my head, pretending we were in WWII. My son was fascinated. I don't think he counted on having to grow up with such a demented mother. I didn't count on having to grow up with myself, either, so I think we're in the same boat.
Building forts with my kids today reminded me of when I was quite young and still living in Scalp Level, Pennsylvania. (Yes, they named the place Scalp Level. And you wonder why I am so messed up.) My cousin Brandon and I spent one entire summer building various forts all over the neighborhood. We built forts on the ground, forts in the trees, forts on top of the garage. We stole wood from other kids' forts to make 10 room mansions in the woods, and then knock them down as soon as we were done and build a new one. We even managed to build a fort with two stories at one point, but the teenage boys in the neighborhood found it and apparently used it for a party, during which it was destroyed with, judging from the litter Brad and I observed the next morning, a golf club and about 7 cases of Heineken. That was sort of depressing, since Brad and I had worked tirelessly on that thing for a week, only to have it smashed apart by someone that wasn't us.
That July, I woke up one morning, and Brad was at the screen door, grinning his lopsided grin. I was dragged down towards the creek by the highway, where Brad informed me we were going to build a fort UNDERGROUND.
The plan was to dig a hole underneath this half uprooted tree, pack the dirt down to make a nice floor, and use mud to shore up the loose dirt on the sides of the hole. We'd make short mud walls around the edge of the hole, and then cover the hole with branches and so forth weaved into a mat, for camouflage. Presto. Secret underground lair that the teenagers couldn't destroy before we decided to destroy it, because they can't destroy something they can't find, now can they?
So we dragged down a shovel and some industrial mop buckets, and set to digging. We got an acceptable hole dug out, and then stood around for a bit, leaning on our shovels.
Brad said, 'Now we need to make the mud.'
I said, 'I don't want to sit around stirring mud all day.'
Brad said, 'What? So we just spent three hours digging this hole for no reason?'
I thought for a moment, then said, 'Wait here.'
I travelled around the neighborhood til I found what I was looking for: little kids. Little gullible kids. 'Come on,' I said to them. 'Only you can help us.'
I returned to Brad with something like five 6 year olds in tow. He eyed me suspiciously. I was breaking an unwritten law. I had let Little Kids into Big Kid Territory. I sat them all down in a semi-circle and gave each of them a stick. Then I went and filled the buckets with water from the creek. I told Brad to shovel some dirt into the buckets. He eyed me some more, but did as I asked.
I looked at the little kids. 'Now, here's what you do. Stir the dirt into the water. Make mud. Mud is good.'
They nodded and started stirring.
I went over to where Brad was leaning against a tree, and said, 'Problem solved.'
So, yes, I was a terrible child that got little kids to stir mud for me all day. But when they were done making mud for us, we built the walls, and shored up the sides of the hole, and the next day when it was all dried, we had a pretty fucking cool underground lair.
Of course, we destroyed it a week later.
But you have to admit that's pretty ingenious. Delegation of responsibility and all that. Getting the Little Guy to Do the Grunt Work. I was an aspiring candidate for global domination at the tender age of 11. Hanging upside down by the knees from a branch 30 feet off the ground with a hammer, installing a spiral staircase to the upper level of the tree fort when everyone else is too pussy to do it, is good and take charge, but getting a bunch of little kids to do the dirty work for you is better. 'sides, the little kids were just happy that the big kids were paying attention to them. And I did make my mom give them popsicles when they were done.
Clearly, I would make a benevolent leader while ruling the world with an iron fist.
Keep that in mind when I start my Campaign to Rule the World.
Vote for Zombie!
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