Dinner and gossip

Last week, we had some friends over for dinner (we did pot luck) and have vowed now to continue this each week, rotating the meal at different homes. We mutually agreed that Thursday evenings are the best for everyone, as they are before the weekend without really interfering with the weekend activities. Since the meal will only last an hour and half or so, it's not like an all nighter, the kids have a chance to play with other kids and us grown-ups get a chance to talk about various issues.

On paper it sounds great doesn't it? Well, it did until one of the couples (I'll call them Burt and Loni), started gossiping about another couple not present. Gossip is one of those things that makes me feel uncomfortable, yet its something that nearly everyone does at one time or another. Some think nothing of talking about what they've seen or heard and repeat the comments made by third parties. It struck me, but the same thing that most at our dinner party would consider hearsay in court was allowed at dinner.

Pondering further this, I've wondered does gossip start when we're little? Sitting at the dinner table with our families and encouraged to talk about our day? Timmy threw up at lunch at it had peas in it. Is that news or gossip. I became curious, and checked dictionary.

gos·sip (gsp) n.

1. Rumor or talk of a personal, sensational, or intimate nature.
2. A person who habitually spreads intimate or private rumors or facts.
3. Trivial, chatty talk or writing.
4. A close friend or companion.
5. Chiefly British. A godparent.

intr.v. gos·siped, gos·sip·ing, gos·sips

To engage in or spread gossip.

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[Middle English godsib, gossip, godparent, from Old English godsibb : god, god; see god + sibb, kinsman; see s(w)e- in Indo-European Roots.]

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gossip·er n.
gossip·ry n.
gossip·y adj.

Synonyms: gossip, blab, tattle
These verbs mean to engage in or communicate idle, indiscreet talk: gossiping about the neighbors; can't keep a secrethe always blabs; is disliked for tattling on mischief-makers.

gossip

n 1: light informal conversation for social occasions [syn: chitchat, small talk, gab, gabfest, tittle-tattle, chin-wag, chin-wagging, causerie] 2: a report (often malicious) about the behavior of other people; "the divorce caused much gossip" [syn: comment, scuttlebutt] 3: a person given to gossiping and divulging personal information about others [syn: gossiper, gossipmonger, rumormonger, rumourmonger, newsmonger] v 1: wag one's tongue; speak about others and reveal secrets or intimacies; "She won't dish the dirt" [syn: dish the dirt] 2: talk socially without exchanging too much information; "the men were sitting in the cafe and shooting the breeze" [syn: chew the fat, shoot the breeze, chat, confabulate, confab, chitchat, chatter, chaffer, natter, jaw, claver, visit]

Did this clear things up? Not really. Chewing the fat, shooting the breeze, chatting and the others don't sound bad. So it seems that gossip is an accepted conversation, but then why does it make me uncomfortable and why is it that I can't seem to not want to hear it.

I wanted to hear about the other couple at dinner--it made me uncomfortable but I didn't speak up and say anything, in fact quite the contrary I hung on every word and laughed with everyone else. What does that say about me? I wish I could be of the moral fiber that could just direct the conversation into a different direction but I can't.

Maybe it's just human nature?

When does school start?

Or...Drop the keys and back away slowly.

Allow me to explain, I have pepper spray on my keychain. I normally keep it inside the glove box of the van but with the hot weather...I got paranoid that it might explode or something from the heat. Darling son, Fredo, was rummaging through my purse and pulled the keys out. I was at the computer and not really paying attention because most of the time, he's just going after the loose change at the bottom. I catch him out of the corner of my eye, eyeing the pepper spray.

I take the keys from him and put them back into my purse and he asked, "what's that?"

I told him, "nasty stuff you don't want to play with."

He says, "Can I show pissboy (again not his real name)?"

I answer, "No you can not, besides he's visiting Grandma."

He asks, "Well can I show him when he gets home?"

I said, "No, it's Mom's and not for you to play with?"

Then he thinks for a minute and then asks again.

Well what's it used for?

"You spray it in bad peoples eyes and I don't know if it works"--Okay I realize that I shouldn't have told him that because it's a disaster waiting to happen. I catch him again eyeing the closet where my purse is located.

"My brother is a bad person, he won't let me play in his room, can we use it on him and see if it works?"

I shake my head and move the purse high out of reach. After he goes to bed, I take the pepper spray off the keyring and hide in my unmentionable drawer I know, before you say it, how original. I picked up pissboy at grandma's and grandpa's later that afternoon, and again, he makes a fuss because Fredo was playing in his room. Fredo calls down to me and says,

"Mom get your keys and lets see if that stuff works."

The possum and the bug.....

Last night, around midnight, I went outside to the van to make certain it was locked when I heard a rustling in the plum tree behind me. I kinda screamed (not very loud--Loud screams were saved for the next day) and thanks to the Porch light, I saw a possum, up close and personal. He was kinda cute sitting in the tree, pulling plums off and eating them. Meanwhile dh drove up, he'd gone to the store to get something, and saw me outside, I showed him Mr. Possum.

We watched for a few minutes, commenting on how calm it was, not moving but just kinda going about his business of eating plums. I had no idea they have thumbs...He would grasp the fruit like a person somewhat and take a bite.

The following morning (today), I went outside to collect the rest of plums I could reach, I noted about 16 plum pits laying on the ground (guess possum's spit out the pits too). So, I'm picking about (I'm not kidding) thirty pounds of plums off the tree, I reach for one and four fall off the tree hitting me in the head nearly each time. I leave the plums in the garage and come into the house. Naturally, the phone is ringing so I answer it, have a cigarette and chat with inlaws about everything I'd done today so far. Then I sit at the computer and start reading some email when I felt something bite me, I look down and on my shirt was this caterpillar like thing, except it wasn't like any caterpillar I'd ever seen.

I jump up and scream bloody murder, it falls off my shirt and lands on the keyboard, and shits on it, I try to pick it up but it moves too quickly (I was shocked), and it falls off the business card I'm using to collect it, to the floor. Again I scream (louder this time) the dog and Fredo are jumping all over the place and I'm screaming. I find a gift bag and stick it inside, meanwhile, dh comes down stairs to see what the ruckus was about as I'm bringing the thing outside, still in the bag.

I tell him the story about the fast moving caterpillar as I dump it out on the sidewalk, he looks at it, then at me saying, "yeah that moves really quick." I look down the little fucker isn't moving at all. I told him it shit on the keyboard of the computer he just pointed out that I scared it. I bend down to touch it, and it starts moving....RIGHT toward MY foot! Dh admits the thing did move a little quicker than he seen a caterpillar move (it was fuzzy but moved more like a centipede or something like that) . Yes I squished it and I'd do it again.


It's the one on the left and it's called fall webworm. UGH

Well I never.....

Expected to actually loose six pounds by just eating healthy food. Not doing the low fat high carb diet, not doing the low carb, high fat diet either. Just eating lots of healthy foods and choosing whole grains instead of refined ones. No sugar. I can still drink coffee.

OMG I'm not even hungry!

Who knew?

About "Fredo"

I'm tired of Fredo complaining each time he has to go to school...I'm ready to scream. I've tried bribes everything, nothing works. I guess I've done something wrong with him.

He told me today that he doesn't want to start kindergarten (he's turning six on Saturday), because he's too little ... A few months ago, he didn't want to the preschool because he wanted to go the big school where his brother attends.

I just can't keep going through this crap each day...When he starts real kindergarten, I'll go insane--I know it, or just jump at the first person that suggests he needs ritalin, and just say without thinking...Yeah, go ahead medicate him. Do I ban all television watching? Take away the game cube and make my older son hate me too?

I don't know..I just can't escape the fact that I've let him down...it's my fault.

He's a Fredo

You all know the story of me calling my older son piss boy. Well, I've come up with a name for my younger son. It's Fredo--Yes, Fredo from the Godfather parts one and two.

Remember the scene in the Godfather Pt 2, when Fredo is upset for being passed over as the Don and tells Michael that "I'm smart...I can do stuff!" That about sums up my little son. He's a sweet child but not the sharpest tool in the shed. The lights are on but no one's home. Or maybe it's more like he's a few cans short a six pack...or maybe still he has the whole six pack but is just missing the plastic thing that holds it together.

I'm sure there's more of those but I can't think of any others.

Happiness is....

Listening to your little son giggle while watching Spongebob.

And...

Learning not to obsess over things you have no control over.

Finally...

Knowing that autumn will soon be here.