butter knives are not made to chew on

So I had a busy afternoon/evening. I went with Erin (not me, another Erin - another living, breathing, separate entity) out to eat and to a movie. It was a pleasant meal until halfway through when a small child sitting next to us with her family decided to straddle her chair like a detective playing bad cop with the interrogation of a murder suspect in a cheesy cop film. Yes, this blonde minion found us to be interesting specimens to examine while chewing on her butter knife. And she was only about seven feet away. Do you know how hard it is to eat french toast when you have a child, whose meal has already been ruined by her poor coordination and inability to keep her burger on her plate rather than on the poorly vacuumed carpet, stare at you? The mother just sat beside her and didn't bother to correct her. My parents would have never let me sit, staring at complete strangers and ruining the enamel on my teeth with a knife. Kids these days. Don't they know that they should chew on butter knives in the privacy of their own homes? I wasn't even doing anything fun enough to attract attention. There was no song and dance routine. I might have missed my mouth a couple of times with the fork but that was probably due to performance anxiety. She looked like a swashbuckling pirate, preparing to descend to the deck from the watchtower by slashing down through the sails.

I am finishing up paperwork and packing up still for Mozambique. Putting things in, taking things out. Testing the waters, if you will. I bought checkers tonight. That was thrilling. I also bought a mini bottle of body spray. Yes, I am sure you are thinking "what kind?" Well, I'll tell you. Mandarin. And it smells good. Not much has happened lately to be honest. I rented some movies. I returned some stuff to the library and paid off my $1 fine. Tomorrow night I eat at my grandparents' house, Thursday night I eat out with a friend and Friday night are for my mom and I. Saturday, I head to the cities with my parents to see my sister and go to half-price books and we are spending the night at a hotel. Then I fly out at 7 on Sunday morning. So that means I'll have to get up at an ungodly hour to get to the airport. I'm starting to get sad, I'll admit. I got home at ten tonight and my mom had already gone to bed and I was sad that I didn't get to say goodnight. I only have a few more nights of being able to say that in this house. Man, I can't even express how difficult the airport goodbye is going to be. I get a lump in my throat just thinking about it.

On another note, we saw The Brave One tonight. Excellent movie in my book. Jodie Foster kicked serious behind.