The Dark Ages

                So, here we are in the dark ages.  Literally and figuratively.  Literally because Nazi ideology and a love affair with authoritarianism seems to be the public zeitgeist right now.   (Don't believe me? We are stealing the children of asylum seekers and locking them cages and calling them all criminals.  How on earth is that NOT Nazi bullshit?   That's like your neighbor banging on your door for help because of an emergency and our answer is to call them a criminal and kidnap their kids.  The detention centers even have "rules" about not even hugging them. If you are not appalled and ashamed then get your damn armband and goosestep proudly.)  Figuratively because Feisty Pants is on her first break of the summer. (She gets two- one for three weeks and one for two weeks) which means no therapy, no class, no Boyfriend Pants. Read that as one unfulfilled, grumpy, sweaty Feisty Pants who is bored stiff and craving brain stim like you wouldn't believe.  Ain't no party like a bored Feisty Pants party because a bored Feisty Pants does not stop. EVER. Or sleep. Or quit bitching because we are boring.   Her tv died last month. Thank the stars above I found a great sale on Amazon and got the new one in time for the break or she would've rolled away from home. Thank them even more for movies because she's fifteen and movies are the bomb diggity right now.   Steven Spielberg is worth every penny he ever made right now. 

             But fortunately, school starts the summer session next week. Feisty Pants is pretty sure Boyfriend Pants is in her summer class this year. She has her summer clothes, she has her new wheelchair (which would just be perfect if her uptight, stick in the mud mother relents and lets her put a Hello Kitty sticker with Hello Kitty wearing an anarchy shirt and giving everybody the middle finger on it) She has her new dye job - Mermaid! (all purples and teals and blue). She found out a new insurance may kick for her and allow her to have her old massage therapist back.  (OMG MIRACLES do occur!)  It may even stop being 100 degrees on my back porch every afternoon by then. (I wish I were exaggerating.)   She just might survive the horrible, terrible, mind numbing ennui of a barbecue with the family (horrors) with s'mores and sparklers. (Totally lame- honestly how is this not child abuse?!?)  The terror of a graduation party for (yawn) somebody else.  (At least there will be music and cake and relatives who fuss over her...) With a little bit of fortitude and pluck, she may just survive the the ordeal of school break. If not, she  is pretty sure she can figure out how feed us old farts to dinosaurs.