I am rarely up late anymore. Most of the time I hit ten and am so yawnsome I must hit the hay. However, that chocolate and Dr. Pepper I had at eight or so must have thrown my caffeine overload switch, because it is 1 am of the next day and I am up and going strong. I did try to go to bed, but after a few minutes I knew I would just toss and turn so I got up.
Today I am going to a garage sale. If I can find it. The Civic Club is having a major one. I should have called to find out where it is being held, but I figure I'll get up and go on a Burger King raid (I've thrown the whole eat right thing out the window this weekend.) and drive around obvious places. Except maybe the country club, because I don't know where that is.
Then my sister is coming down to help me get my bday present to myself home. I have been wanting more bookshelves for ages. We have 12, eight of which are full size (6ft or higher). However, I still have boxes in piles and boxes and stacked on tables. So do my boys. I'll take the bigger ones and hand-them-down the smaller ones. The bookshelves I have wanted are on sale through tomorrow. But since they are 73 inches high and my car is only 53 inches across, I couldn't figure out a way to get them in. So I called my baby sister. She has an Expedition which, while not quite as useful as a pickup, will do in a pinch.
In a related note, has anyone seen the bumper sticker for pickups that says “No, I won't help you move.” I love it. I don't have a pickup. And I need one about twice a year. Up till last fall that was fine because my dad had one. But he gave his to my brother, who lives half a continent away. So now I have to cast about for acquaintances with minivans. (I live in minivan haven. Though I confess to shopping in the pickup part of town regularly.)
When I was buying a new car my husband wanted me to get a minivan. I've owned one before and found it to be huge and too hard to park. Plus, you know, I just didn't want to go for the soccer mom look. (Although most of those around here are pretty good looking. Maybe I should have gone that route.)
Instead I bought a car with enough room for my kids to turn teenagers in. That turned out to be a good thing because my 10 year old is up to the top of my shoulder and my 11 year old is over the bottom of my chin. AAAGGHH! I thought they would be 15 before they hit that growth spurt. My 11 year old is wearing a size 7 and a half in shoes!
I was 5'6 by the time I was 11. But I'm a girl. I drank lots of milk, probably filled with growth hormones. I wasn't expecting this of my boys. Mostly because my brother, who is 6'4, didn't hit the top of my shoulder till he was 15. I have pictures to prove that I once was, in fact, the tallest child in my immediate family instead of the shortest adult in my extended family. (My grama was smaller than I am, but she was starved as a child, so I am not sure that should count.)
My conscience reminds me that I probably have one cousin who is shorter than I am, although I am not sure of that since I have not seen her since she was six. (She was much smaller than I was then.) She was put on a very strict diet when she was a baby by my aunt because at her six month check up her weight was in the 80% percentile. She barely had anything with any fat in her diet at all.
I have come to the conclusion, totally from observation, that low caloric intake and low fat intake relate to low heights in humans. I've seen many Japanese parents who are tiny with American-born kids who tower over me. And both my grama and my cousin (from descriptions of her as an adult) qualify in the other direction.
At my grama's funeral, my husband remarked that at 6'1 he was the shortest of the grandsons. It was true. And my maternal side grows 'em just as big.
I hope my boys don't top 6'4 though because things start getting awkward then. My husband sometimes has trouble with the roof of a car being too low. I remember my uncle ducking in doorways. Guess we'll have to wait and see.