What does this say about me??

Okay, Kungfooqueen, this is YOUR fault! (not that I really mind). What does this say about me, that I'm destined to die in a green haze of light? Eurgh, sure hope not!




As Cedric, you are good looking, cool and popular. You are a natural born leader, and are talented and resourceful.



Okay, so I'm Cedric Diggory. Huh. I don't know quite what to think of that. Do you? Didn't think so. ...le sigh...

Never volunteer...

Hoo! Well, I'm getting better, though I still get tired all too easily, but I'm getting better finally. The Husbandly One, also known as the Curly Wolf, says I'm getting the gleam of mischief back in my eyes, so I suppose that is a good sign. Anyhow, last night was my first outing in what seems like ages, and it was to go to an exciting meeting of... our soccer board. Actually, we got a lot done, mainly handing jobs over to people who, like me, really wanted to duck under the table and hide, but realized there was no one else responsible enough to do it, and so, poked by their inner "responsibility managers," raised their hands. So, I have found myself "commissioner" for the U-12 group, meaning basically my job is to keep people from killing each other during the drafting process. That should be fun. Okay, I'm little, but I have a secret weapon in my arsenol that I inherited from my mother. It's called (dramatic drumroll, and quick insert of "Dragnet" music)... The Hairy Eyeball!! (Okay, so I copped it from Janet Kagan, but until I read her "Mirabile" series, I had no idea what to call that Look my mother would give us when we went A Bit Too Far. When I read about Mama Jason's Hairy Eyeball, though, I realized quickly what an apt description that was, and now my entire family, sisters, nieces, nephews, all, use that to describe my mom's Look. Believe me. It fits!).

I've also been asked to revamp the soccer association's website. Why? Well, because I'm home, and I have time to surf the internet, and well... I'm home... did I mention, I'm home? Basically, I'm a warm body that is computer literate, and motivated. This should be interesting. I think if I hadn't had such a blatant look of horror on my face, I would have been volunteered for the fundraiser, too. Of course, I would have promptly un-volunteered myself, since I have enough to be going on with as it is! After all, I do have kids! And soccer camp is coming up, I was asked yet again if I wanted to volunteer as a coach, (I throw my hands up at that one) and had to ask, what do you need more, coaches, or referees? I can do one or the other, but coaching will be difficult, as I have to keep my little man occupied while trying to work with 12 to 15 kids... eee-yi! The Impossible Son is not the sort to be happy sitting down with a sheaf of paper and a handful of crayons. No, he has inherited his mother's ability to get into trouble with little effort, because he's intensely curious, extremely creative... in other words, he's a Weasley twin without the benefit of having a twin. Shall I tell you what he did a few weeks ago? He came to me, starkers, of course, because he's still the Sensitive Naked Boy. "Look at me, Mama!"

I'm propped up in the bed with a book, wondering where the Husbandly One is. "Oh... my."

"I painted my pee-pee blue!" He's so proud, standing there with his hands on his hips, back arched, waving his tinted appendage about, big snaggle-toothed grin on his face.

"Er... yep... that certainly is... blue." I'm struggling, but I manage to keep a straight face. "Why... why is your pee-pee blue, Little Man?"

"So I can see it in the dark!" He adds a little dance to his routine, so happy.

Oh dear. I swallow my laughter down, my chest aching, and keep my face calm by thinking of every sad thing I can summon to my mind. Dying puppies. No more Harry Potter books. Okay. "Really? Well... er.. hon... it's going to be kind of hard to see that, since... well... it's BLUE!"

He laughs at me. "Silly Mama, it's glow in the dark paint!"

Mama had to get up and run to the bathroom. I'm sure he was puzzled by why the water was running in the bathtub so forcefully, and what those muffled whoops and howls were all about. Do you guys have any idea how hard it is to get blue paint out of a tiny little foreskin? Eeeeeehhh!!!

No, I cannot leave this kid unattended while coaching soccer!

Well, guess I'd better call the last person to work on the LYSA website, and see what I can do to liven it up. It needs some serious revamping, and any advice you guys can offer me will be gladly accepted. Guess I'd better go chase the kids around the backyard for a while. That will take me exactly five minutes before I poop out and hit the Wall of Fatigue, but it should be a fun and very interesting five minutes! Toodles!