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i've been a total crab all day. a regular bearcat, as my dad used to say when i was a lazy teenager, lurking around the house like a threatening storm. it started when i lost all hope for humanity watching the extreme display of mediocrity and crimes against superlatives that is the danish X-factor, a singing talent program. and i use the word "talent" loosely. as a parent, you have many battles to fight and so you have to choose them carefully. in the interest of not blocking the child out of all schoolyard conversations next week, we let her watch the finale. and in the interest of being together as a family, we watched it with her. and i became increasingly irritated and crabby. it's everything to do with the chabuduo thing that i talked about recently. i was so irritated at myself that i let her watch it and waste two hours of all of our lives - that's 6 hours that we'll never have back. why didn't we use the opportunity to talk about quality and talent and how if everything is "the best ever" or "iconic" or "diva-esque," then nothing is. sigh.

on top of it, this morning, in my mailbox, some forwarded right wing vitriol from a random stranger was awaiting me. and although it seemed like spam, it actually wasn't. and it further irritated me to think that this person who apparently knows my mother, but whom i have never met,  thought i would enjoy such a thing. and although i knew it didn't deserve my energy, i stewed about it all day. in fact, it pretty much spoiled the majority of my day.

but then, the tide began to turn. i had changed all of my statuses to something about how crabby i was feeling. my sister IMed me to suggest that tequila might help. and i briefly considered it, but it was a bit early for that. she also suggested that spreading the crabbiness around on twitter, FB and gmail probably wasn't that helpful. then i got a message that heather has a fabulous free shipping offer going on in her shop. and might have indulged in some new tea towels to cheer myself up. but only because i had just ironed all the old ones and noticed how stained some of them were getting.

then, my sister told me about her wild weekend back in that little town where we grew up. and it involved old milwaukee lights at the local bar with a few classmates who stayed there - one of which had a husband so kind, he delivered $40 cash to her at the bar because he wasn't sure she had enough money with her for the evening's festivities.  then there was a round of drinks bought by the mayor, who turned out to be a bit smarmy (it's a very small town and mayor is surely a thankless job). then some cute young local boys showed up and shots of tequila appeared on the table. then someone suggested that it was time to go check the cattle (as one does), so everyone picked up their drinks, wandered out to the nearest pickup truck and piled in. my sister said that if she was going to check cattle, she would need one of those long rubber gloves that goes all the way up to your armpit. and someone promptly produced one. which she put on. cattle were checked, but unfortunately, the pickup, perhaps weighed down by 8 people having piled into it, got stuck in a creek. some people went to get a "mulie" which my sister described as a cross between a four-wheeler and a golf cart. and another person called a very drunk guy who had a tractor, which came and pulled the pickup out. and some mouthy high schoolers showed up in the middle of the field, looking for a party. as one does. however, they brought fresh supplies of alcohol, which was good, because everyone was losing their buzz by that point. girls squatted and peed in the weeds. and the night ended with my sister covered in mud from head to toe. she got home and true to the the old family rule that applies to her - no pot in the living room - sat down at the kitchen table with mom and proceeded to regale her with tales of the evening. while mom cleaned the mud off her fancy, expensive danish leather boots.

and i have to say that story cheered me right up. because how you can you not smile at that? at the very least, it takes you back to high school and at most, you're grateful that you didn't stay there where that would be a typical saturday night every week.

and then, we had a little fire out on the terrace and roasted some marshmallows and all was again right with the world.