Yes, between all the gloom of aunt's cancer, stepmother's cancer, and dad's emphysema (Notice how I slid that one in.), we manage to have fun here in the People's Republic. A couple of weeks ago I went to a conference for work and won a door prize. I was truly shocked because the last thing I won before that was bingo night in law school (Three rounds, baby!) and a couple of wedding bouquets. (My stepmother's friends are probably still upset that I caught the bouquet at her wedding to my dad over 20 years ago.) Enough about her already though. She claims that she is starting to reclaim her memory. Hopefully not too much. Because she used to think that I was a spoiled brat. Oops. I forgot on the winning thing that I have been to so many bridal and baby showers over the years, I totally rock at those games.
At my home, things have been rather chill. Natasha has been content with playing soccer for almost two years. Then the box arrived. At first, she thought it was the perfect hideaway. That was until Boris pounced upon the box. Now Boris thinks of the box as his bed. Natasha has other ideas.
Natasha has given up soccer for "pawball." Like handball, she smacks the ball against the wall (backside of the box) and waits for its return so that she can smack it again. She has gotten quite skilled at this game and can play it for hours. Well, maybe not hours but for at least a good half hour at a time. Luckily -- for her -- the box is in my line of sight to the TV. This means that if I am watching TV, I get the added bonus of watching Natasha play. And somehow this has managed to reduce my stress level -- along with not talking to my aunt.