A fish called Bob

Saw my friend Bob today. Bob, as in the original, "Bob spelled backwards is still boB."

I also used to own a fish named after him. It was a pink kissing gourami.

Bob, the fish, died in 1990 of The Ick when I was in Sweden. He was cryogenically preserved until we could give him a fitting burial: We got drunk and flushed him down the toilet at 1514 E 3rd St in Duluth, Minnesota, while singing "Louie, Louie."

Bob, the guy, wasn't there.

It was the end to a chaotic day. I did the usual morning child launch, and then of course the Copy Mom thing. I shouldn't even begin to bitch about the woman who shows up during my copy time, doing stuff that's supposed to be done Friday, and fucks up the rest of Thursday, but is really nice and I like her...but I don't want her there using the copier when I need it! When it's supposedly "reserved" for me!

Anyway. I got the copies done...in 3 hours, 15 minutes. I think that's my record. Record, on the long scale.

Then had a conversation with my sister, and oh, back after the child launch but before the copies I talked to Elly about her front-loading washer because our dryer quit so we're going to just get a new set, and we want super deluxe shoot the works stuff.

Where was I? Oh, talking to my sister about her new driver's license and license plates, and then I got an e-mail from boB about this evening's plans.

But I had to go and do some in-person research on the washer and dryer.

And then, on to the carpool line. I have no comments on that. The carpool line is really boring lately.

Then boB called while I was driving home; I had started but didn't finish answering an earlier e-mail. We agreed on a time.

Then Elly called back, to finish our conversation, which will need its own entire post entitled "At Least I'm Not In Brazil!"

Somewhere in there I was supposed to call my sister back when I got a "window." I never got one. Stick Girl wanted a haircut because she doesn't like how her hair feels brushing against her back.

She was thrilled with her haircut.

Both kids were thrilled with the dum-dum suckers, Fruit Loops, and markers I bought them at the grocery store.

Simian Boy was NOT allowed to put additional sugar on his Fruit Loops.

Then The Dave got home and I went to meet boB and his co-worker. We did Cafe Brazil, then the Fox and Hound so they could watch the end of the Dallas-Minnesota hockey game.

Which reminds me....soon I will 'splain why Minnesota is still really pissed off that the Stars are now in Dallas. Yes, still mad, 15 years later.

But not now.

Minnesota lost. I brought the guys back to their hotel. While standing at the entrance, boB and I were approached by a panhandler.

Which is also a whole other entry.

So I owe you:

1) At Least I'm Not In Brazil
2) It's the NORTH Stars, Dammit!
3) Panhandled by Little Jack Melody

Coming soon, to a blog near you! Which story to y'all want to hear first?