Friday was the ceremony to honor volunteers at the boys elementary school. It was held on the playground to accommodate the ONE THOUSAND students who attend and their parents. The parents who volunteer their time in the classrooms, which, is a lot of damn parents. Of course I was there for the recognition for the one day a month that I volunteer because I'm all about LOOK AT ME! Out of the sea of small heads I managed to spot Boy-Child#2 and he and I made eye contact, confirmed by a wave of hands and kisses blown through the air. I spied Boy-Child#1 and his sixth grade class file in to their designated spot and threw my hands up in the air and shook them all about like an idiot but he didn't see me. In fact, he never saw me. As far as he knew, I wasn't there. At the end of the ceremony when the sixth graders presented the volunteers and/or their own parents with paper flowers they had made, all of those that I received were from someone else's kids. And when Boy-Child#1 found out later that I WAS there he felt a little like that something that you try to scrape off the bottom of your shoe. He was all kinds of sad and feeling guilty; so worried that he'd hurt my feelings. Which he didn't but I was unsuccessful in convincing him. Poor kiddo.
I mentioned that this ceremony was held outdoors. No shade. The hot California sun melting the left hand side of my body frying my ear its mission was to destroy me. I even removed my watch to avoid tan lines. But more importantly, silk was a poor choice for blouse fabric. It isn't exactly skilled in the art of concealing sweat stains. In fact, it enhances them. Silk can be a real jerk. Luckily I had my enormous paper flowers to hide the offensive boob sweat that was accumulating. I guess I should just be thankful that my pants were not the same material. Because who wants to look at ass-crack sweat? And don't act like that doesn't happen to you.