The Field Trip was fine. I was pretty much the only person that got yelled at, and that was because I really didn't want to go to the Cafeteria. Yes, Pig 1's First Grade Teacher got flustered because I wouldn't go pick up lunches. I finally bowed down to my duty, the teacher was stressed organizing 20 kids for a field trip, and I didn't want any of those little monsters to go hungry.
Somewhere an announcement said we were going to a town like 20 minutes away. We ended up in St. Joe, which is over an hour away, on a bus, filled with kids. Did I mention I have been known to get violently ill or pass out on almost any form of transportation? Everyone around me was reading and having fun, and all I could do was look out the windows to keep from hurling. A big boo hoo for me right?
The passing out occurred on a whale watching tour while the Ogre and I were on our Honeymoon. It was one of those tours where they say "money back if you see no whales" and then add "7 dolphins=1 whale." Before the passing out, there was much hurling. No, dolphins or whales, just hurling and puffins. The people on the boat kept saying, "look, another puffin!" like it was the most magical beast in the world. "Look, a flying unicorn with a rainbow tail!"
My plan was to jump overboard to make the seasickness stop, this was the Atlantic, in September, during a hurricane. My plan also included a helicopter rescue, because there was no way I was getting on the boat again. The Ogre saw the desperation in my eyes and dragged me inside. Here a man kindly asked "is she sick, does she want any nachos?" That's when I passed out. The nachos smelled really good though. Oh, all that was with dramamine.
Later the Ogre and I decided that 20 puffins=1 dolphin, and 140puffins=1whale. All I know is I feel sick whenever I see a puffin to this day.
But the field trip was nice, I didn't barf, and all the kids got there and back safely, and had lunch. One kid who forgot their lunch even got one, because I took an extra from the Cafeteria.
If I could only knit while sleeping, my Midnight Tomato would be done! I know other people have wished for knit/sleeping skills. But if my sleep knitting skills are anything like my tequila drinking and knitting skills, I am going to have to pass. I should have a button made up that says tequila and knitting don't mix. A beer, fine. A spoonful of rum helps the knitting go round. But tequila. Might as well kiss your project good bye with your first sip of the sweet, sweet cactus juice.