I just looked through my photo album for a picture of moi. There aren't many. They all look like this one, or they are super ugly. An ugly one will illustrate this story nicely though. It's the Brad P. story.

There is no way that I'm putting his name in my blog. I learned my lesson with that famous (but not as famous as Brad) actor that people thought Sebastien resembled. I had people all over the world coming to my blog because of that post. I'm not looking for that kind of attention, so I'll just call him Brad. I think that you know who he is.
This story takes place when Freddy was four and was in preschool. It was winter. He went to preschool every morning (and hated it passionately at first and then cried because it wasn't open on Saturdays too) while the older children got their basic schoolwork done. It worked wonderfully. He even made a forever friend named Spencer. I made one too. But back to the story.
Seb would take him to school, and the children and I would pick him up at 11:30. Then we would stop at the gym on the way home. I would exercise for 1/2 an hour while they watched cartoons or animal shows. Then we would go home and eat lunch. It was such a wonderful schedule...but I'm digressing. I know you want to hear about Brad. I don't find him attractive, by the way.
On this day we were a little early to pick up Freddy. I was horribly ill. Terribly, hideously sick. I won't tell you what I had because it's just too embarrassing. Just imagine the worst. Thank God in heaven above for painkillers.
The library is next to his preschoool, and we stopped in there just so I could get some magazines. I was so sick that all I could do was lie about and read magazines. I was too sick to sleep and too sick to read anything more substantial (like War and Peace, which I finished and was terribly disappointed with...but I digress). We got a few magazines.
I should stop right here to describe myself. I looked sick, and I looked awful. I was not dressed normally. I was wearing something close to pajama pants and a dirty wool sweater. My hair was pulled back in a head band and hadn't been combed in awhile. Greasy too, I'm sure. No make-up; bags under the eyes; depression in the eyes. I was probably wearing slippers.
At the check-out desk there were some odd people. They were taking photos of the check-out ladies. The ladies were giggling (and they are not gigglers...right, Sabra?). It was terribly strange. I was eavesdropping. There were three of them, a lady and two men. They didn't fit in; I knew that they were not local.
Then they came over to us. The lady asked if they could take a picture of me and my scrappy-looking children. I was sick, so I wasn't parenting very well. I'm sure that the children were dressed, but I doubt that they were clean. I know that they were fed because they could feed themselves. We weren't exactly model material.
I asked her why. She said, "For the community." I asked several more questions: The Chamber of Commerce? The city? She was evasive. She kept saying, "For the community." I let her take photos of us. They were all very nice, but something wasn't right.
I kept pondering it. Then I remembered a rumor. And then I asked Seb if there was a jet at the airport that day (yes). And then I used my psychic powers. And then I did an internet search.
The lady was Brad's mom. She was taking photos because he and his wife were looking at properties in our state, including one in our town. The end of the story is that he took one look at that ugly, sick lady with the ragamuffin children at the library and said that he would never live in a town like that.
Very soon after that he dumped his wife for a new lady. I think that they are married now, but I'm not sure. They do have children though, more than I have. I don't think that they are interested in living in small-town Missouri anymore.
And that is the end of my Famous Folk I Haven't Met series. We'll go back to the regular programming now. Unless I've forgotten someone...