Applause is the Preferred Expression of Joy

No, really. The Principal of my brother's school informed me this afternoon of the above rule about joyful expressions. So, of course, this can only mean that, when the time came to express my joy, I screamed so loud my throat still hurts and waved my arms much like the sign of distress in Team America. I can't believe my baby brother has graduated from high school. Nor can I believe how proud I am of that kid. Seriously...I think I may need to mellow in intensity before I am allowed to have children (although, let's be honest. I'm not sure the standard for childbearing/rearing is too stringent these days). Honestly though, when I zoom out and think what I must look like when I'm cheering for Danny or calling a little girl who upset Sarah a horrible name...to my mother...I just am not sure I'm ready for primetime. I can just see it now. "Mrs. Billy's Mom, while we appreciate your...dedication...we really need you to refrain from making the opposing team's players cry. In fact, I think you should probably leave the soccer field immediately, never to return. Isn't there a Mr. Billy's Dad who could...represent the family? Don't you have errands you need to run?" Or, "Mrs. Billy's Mom, it isn't really appropriate to put Billy's kindergarten partner in a choke hold, just because he made fun of your son." The more I think about it, unless they come up with some sort of Uber-Extreme Parenting Challenge reality competition on Spike, I'm not sure my parenting efforts would be accepted/appreciated by the mainstream. I really better work on, you know, all of that.

In other news, I'm sad to return to "work" tomorrow, but should be hearing back about a phone interview I had on Friday. And also, The Boy returns tomorrow! Which is, of course, very happy news. Don't worry, I'm not going to morph from PsychoPreMom into ObnoxiousCurrentGirlfriend, however, this different countries thing? Not so much. Somehow he could reach me at random times (and I don't think he's too anxious to see how much he'll end up paying Verizon for the privilege), but our telepathy headphones didn't seem to span the distance either, so he always called when I was unavailable, and every time I tried to call I got a "Your Call Cannot Be Completed as Dialed" with a Spanish accent. (That's preferable to the message he occasionally gets, which is apparently completely in Spanish.) Of course I'm looking forward to seeing him, but also I think I'm just looking forward to our conversations NOT going like this:
Me: So what did you do today?
Him: OH, it was AWESOME, I wish you had been here! I went to this fabulous beach and this guy Frank was our personal concierge and I snorkeled and got to feed plantains to tropical fish and I saw a barracuda and played tennis for a couple of hours and had a volleyball tournament with these guys from London and now I'm smoking a Cuban! How was your day?
Me: I sat at my desk. I read the news and no one has mentioned my job disappearing today. At lunchtime I walked with those ladies from the fifth floor. I did pilates. I ate rice for dinner. I cleaned the guest room.

Sure, all respectable things and not really a bad day. But in comparison? I've got nothing. So now? I hate to go and leave this pretty sight. You've been great.