Any job that doesn’t make you beat your head against the wall incessantly for the first year or so is not a job worth having.

I’m not sure what the last day of school is for The Planet Ann Arbor (although I think it is Friday) or any of its satellite communities (last week, I think) but today was the last final exam of the junior year (of college) for the small aminal known as Mouse. That means she is a senior as of now. Assuming she passed her classes, that is. (Of *course* she passed. What did you think?) But don’t talk to her about it. Because senior year is next and, well, we just won’t go there. Okay? Okay.

Me, I’m thinking back to all of the last days of school throughout elementary school. The beach urchins’ for sure but mostly my own. I don’t really remember too much about what we actually did in *school* on the last day. Hello, PTO moms! The kids don’t remember all your carefully planned parties! They just wanna GET OUTTA DODGE! So throw candy and cupcakes at ’em and then go have a Bloody Mary (or two or three) somewhere. I do remember that The Commander always gave me a big paper grocery bag and I would put all the junk from my desk into the bag to take home with me. I would get home and I would be FREEEEEEEE!!!!! Er, and then I don’t really remember what I did once I got home either, except bug The Commander to move us out to Fin Family Moominbeach for the summer. It didn’t matter if was still 40 degrees and raining. Gimme my bushel basket and let’s go!

I dunno why but the year I remember the best, I was staying at my Grandma’s house on the last day of school because Grandroobly and The Commander were off at a bank meeting or something. My grandparents lived maybe about 10 blocks away from us. Superior Street to John Street, 1300 block to 1000 block. Across Kimball and Minneapolis and Augusta and Young and Bingham and down a few avenues and, finally, whew, John Street. Now that I think about it, I don’t really remember much about *that* last day of school either. I took my paper bag full of papers and stuff upstairs to the room we stayed in there and looked down at the street. And then I think I just took off, to play with the friends that I knew in school but didn’t usually play with outside of school unless I was at my Grandma’s house. We didn’t really have scheduled playdates back in those days, don’tcha know.

I probably confused a whole bunch of people in several cities today and I am fried and you are NOT seeing Mouse’s underpants in the picture, my girls *always* wore shorts underneath their dresses so they could hang upside-down on the monkey bars and do whatever else they wanted and still wear cute little dresses and things. So, nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-naaaaaaah. You go girls. G’night.

4 Responses to “Any job that doesn’t make you beat your head against the wall incessantly for the first year or so is not a job worth having.”

  1. mouse Says:

    thanks for the concern over my underpants.

    p.s. i SO passed. with flying colors, i might add.

  2. isa Says:

    if i recall, that stellar thing i am wearing is actually a pair of shorts (allbeit connected with the top half, like a dress).

    p.s. i posted.

  3. jane Says:

    I like the matching boo-boos on their knees.

  4. GG Says:


    Enough of the unmentionables, shorts, dress and boo-boos.

    I like the little chickies! They are the “epitome of cutosity”.