Manager's Choice

The last several days of the school lunchroom menu are labeled "Manager's Choice". Even a second grader knows this means they are cleaning out the freezers and every third student will receive a different offering for lunch. Let's just consider this little post as a BlogManager's Choice of some thisandthat and whathaveyou.

First off, look at what greeted me as I exited the school building on Friday:

People: it is not even June in Texas yet.
And speaking of hot, here is a view of my fireplace on Saturday afternoon:
A large raccoon took up residence in my chimney for about a month. I called animal control, but they said they could not come help unless the animal was loose in my house. (Everything heavy I own was stacked against the fireplace to prevent said entry, so that was not happening.) Anywoo, loyal brother-in-law finally resorted to a hot seat for the coon who rocketed out the chimney onto the roof in record time. My Facebook status that "The raccoon has exited the building" caused a neighbor two doors down to comment that he had ripped through her backyard when she was laying by the pool. So all's well now, right?
Well, except that night a large contingent of raccoons returned to the roof and fought over who got to take up residency next. I think my chimney must have some kind of coon hobo mark that welcomes the critters into the bowels of my home. Luckily, loyal brother-in-law has secured the screen with liquid nails and a boulder-sized rock. (He told me if I find the rock in the back yard that I should exit the building because a raccoon that strong should not be reckoned with.)
And one more former kindergartner graduate, towering over her former teacher. Heading to college to play soccer, she is as sweet as she is beautiful. Godspeed, EI!

I had a pedicure the other day. As the nail tech was painting my nails, an 80 year-old woman wandered in looking for "her" shade of polish. Ummm...it would be the same shade that I had chosen. I am clearly on the cutting edge of Memaw fashion.

My sister and I watched the last Oprah together. Loyal sister had posters up and buttons for us to wear at that little soiree. I never entirely drank the Oprah kool-aide, but who didn't have a tear when the men from Morehouse College poured in with candles while Kristen Chenoweth sang "(I Have Been Changed) For Good" the day before?

I was walking through my neighborhood early Saturday morning (see above temperature), and I came across a sweet older gentleman with a fireplace poker and an armful of American flags on dowels. He was poking holes and putting flags by everyone's mailboxes for Memorial Day. "My husband was in the service", I told him, and he gave me a flag to carry home. Happy tears on the journey back.

Today was Memorial Day and I was at school. Eating Manager's Choice. Because today was our bad weather make-up day. (But OH! that snow day in February was wonderful, and I tried to draft on that memory all day.) As luck would have it, our class was served chicken with bones. (Not to be confused with "tenders" or "fingers": real chicken.) The mashed potatoes, alas, did not have gravy. (It is probably being served with the mac and cheese or fishsticks tomorrow.) My class size continued to change all day from a low of 7 to a high of 12. (Most parents are home for the holiday and WHO ARE WE KIDDING? The report cards are already printed. ) Two more days and I am no longer a teacher...but I'll be a principal. Imagine that!
Happy Memorial Day, y'all.