The Pony has had a busy day.
He (and I) had to arise at the crack of regular-school-day so he could take the ACT. It's his second time. He wants to better his score of 33 on his first attempt last fall. I went inside Newmentia to make my shopping list. I figured The Pony had earned a day off Sunday, and would rather lay about the Mansion rather than traipse through The Devil's Playground with me.
Ding dang dong if a plethora of testees (heh, heh, I said testees) didn't come waltzing into my room to sharpen their pencils. Okay. Perhaps waltzing is not the most accurate description. Shambling, maybe. Teens are not at their best at 7:30 a.m. The Pony was at first to blame, inviting one student to put a point on his graphite. Lucky they weren't vampires. Once you invite them in, you can't get rid of them, you know. A couple of others came to the door and politely requested sharpener privileges. Which I granted magnanimously, of course. I'm a sucker for a well-mannered request. But then the floodgates opened. It was like a house party gone wrong. I swear adolescents from the entire Mississippi River watershed showed up. Cus is going to think I am bent on revenge, what with the amount of shavings to be harvested from that metal teardrop.
The Pony was whisked away from the test minutes after completion, to high-tail it to his District Scholar Bowl Tournament far away in a region known for Oberle sausage, old houses, flooding, and French stuff. He and Farmer H just returned shortly before 9:00 p.m. I am pleased to report that the Newmentia team took first place, and will now compete at Sectionals. Yes. We are the mighty Newmentians!
I'm surprised our heads are not proportioned like that of the Fred Flintstone's little green buddy, The Great Gazoo.