One week left of the college semester, and both The Pony and the #1 Son have been hitting the books and regurgitating their learnin' into bluebooks. All work and no play, however, makes them dull boy young 'uns.
I'm not exactly sure what the #1 Son is up to, besides narrowly avoiding being burned to a crisp on Thursday. I had just left a luncheon date with my best ol' ex-teaching buddy Mabel when my phone buzzed. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom does not look at her phone while maintaining the legal speed limit on two-lane hilly curvy blacktop. Some 18 minutes later, I learned that the building designated for #1's major course of study was billowing black smoke, with news crews and emergency responders on site. He had simply sent me a text to acknowledge that he was uncharred.
That's a good thing. Was I one to pay attention to breaking news throughout the day, and had I not been previously occupied with devouring a delicious chicken quesadilla...I would have been frantic, knowing that's the part of campus where #1 should be located. Thank the Gummi Mary his final was held on the other side of campus.
The Pony has been burning the midnight oil. And the 2:00 a.m. oil. I know that, because he sends me texts. Not about studying. Those I get between 8:00 and 10:00, if I try to ask him something. No, the later ones concern his Netflix viewing habits, most often The Food Network shows like Cutthroat Kitchen. He must be in a lull between finals, since he had one this week that he thinks he did well on, and next week being officially designated as finals week.
Last night, The Pony went Christmas shopping at Target, and played board games on the National Merit hall. This afternoon, he sent me a text that he was bound for gaming again tonight, but was at the moment making fudge with one of his friend girls. Let the record show that his recipe is one given to him by blog buddy Sioux. I sent him back to his lofty 12th floor rat's nest with (his requested) ingredients and a suitable bowl after Thanksgiving.
I'm pretty sure they were fudging it up in the friend girl's dorm room, because The Pony is a slob, and his roommate prefers that nobody enter their room. Ever. Even when The Pony is the only one there, having no simple drive home to spend the weekend. The Pony said he would be taking PART of the fudge to share at Game Night.
I'm pretty sure he had plans for strapping on the feed bag with the rest of it.