I carted both  of my daughters off to college.  One not too far, and one out of state, I posted about that here in Letting Go, Trusting our Children.  The Zen blog is going strong as is that Facebook page… you should come over and hang out awhile!

I also started a new project called LoveRally.  It’s a simple “people helping people” site.

So… yes I’m still here, lol.  I’m just branching out like crazy! I have been working on something at home that I can post about here on Ma Vie Folle…. *sigh*…. I’m working on teaching my 17 year old son how to determine when food is not suitable to eat.  What is it with teenage boys that want to devour everything and not once check for an expiration date?

What seems like a no-brainer for most adults (well, women...) there are certain rituals we might perform before eating something from the fridge.  Like the smell and touch of lunch meat.  Of course FIRST we check the package for when it was purchased… but then we might smell it.  I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen this kid eating a sandwich and I go to the fridge knowing he’s eating lunchmeat… and I check the package.   Blatantly obvious that it’s past it’s prime… there he is wolfing it down.

Sometimes there are so many things in the fridge and I don’t always have time to weed the old stuff out.  Thankfully he’s never eaten anything with mold on it (well, I would hope anyhow, God, who knows!) but just last week he was eating 8 day old cheesy potatoes from a long-since-passed-party.  YUCK.   I looked at his plate and asked, “What are you eating?”  “Cheesy potatoes!”, he says shoveling a big spoonful in his piehole.   I jumped up for a look and said, “Alan, those are old! “  He said they looked fine to him.  I told him if his stomach hurt that night… it was from eating old food.  I then went to dump the remaining potatoes in the trash.  They were already getting watery!   Him and his stomach of steel were fine.

He got himself all ready, backpack – check… water bottle – check… $15 to get gas (he told me Friday the low fuel light came on) – check.

7am.  The boy leaves:  “Don’t forget to take that gas money”, I say.

“I have it”, he replies.

7:20am.  My phone rings:  “Mom?  Something’s wrong with the car… it just stopped! It won’t move!”

“Oh my God, did you get gas this morning?”

“No.  I was going to get it on my way home from school”.

“The light was on.  I gave you money this morning!”

“I know how to estimate how much further I can go when the light goes on, I am NOT out of gas.”

“YOU are out of gas.  I’ll come up with a gas can.”

Yes, by the time I got through the rush hour back up, I saw the flashing lights.  A nice officer pulled up behind him so no one smashed into him.

Funny, how it takes the same amount of time to empty a 5 gallon gas can – as it does to have an entire conversation (in front of a police officer) about the importance of listening to you mom, being responsible and getting gas when you are supposed to.

and yes, it’s great having a mom with a blog, isn’t it?

Better him than me.  I’ve always wanted to take up running.  But gosh, it seems to demanding and hard.