Tired, thanks for great teachers, odd

Tired. Ordered take-out. End of story. 

In other news, I wish to applaud my husband who is diligently and lovingly crafting an oversized sheriff badge from foam core right now. Why on god's green earth is he doing that? you might be wondering.

Well, for starters, I asked him to.
Second, he's seen me taking care of all end-of-year to-dos with total gusto and knows he needs to participate.
Thirdly, he's had the MOST ANNOYING cough for four days and owes me for tolerating it.  
Lastly, and most importantly, because it's a gift for one of the boys' greatest teachers.

Coach Gold and Jack have been tight as a good seal on a jam jar since Jack started PK five years ago. I suspect Coach Gold knew my dear J was not an athletic rock star and also loved Jack's obsession (at that time) with all things police. At that point, a politico's child was at school with J and so the secret service were on campus all of the time every day. 

Jack was thrilled by this and took to wearing mirrored spy glasses and police gear to school. Because school is awesome and honors children for just who they are, this was kosher until Jack started directing his classmates around with "10-4, over and out" instructions and walking into the traffic lane from the carpool lane when he was unable to break focus on the agents at the perimeter.

Anyway, Coach Gold started calling Jack "Sheriff," and when Ol started two years ago, Coach Gold nicknamed him "Deputy."

So tonight, we are making a large badge as a little symbol of our family love for Coach Gold. 

Can I tell y'all something that I find odd? At least once a week, the phone rings, and caller ID shows an unfamiliar number. It's not a telemarketer or any of their ilk, so I usually pick up. Invariably, it is a stranger calling with Nutmeg in his (it's usually a man) arms.

"I have a Nutmeg here. Very sweet cat. Is he supposed to be out here? On the sidewalk?"

People, Nutmeg is not a child. He is a cat. Though I am exceedingly grateful for this sincere concern about a roaming cat, do cats not, in fact, roam? I'm vexed. Are there no city cats who get to go outside? Yes, I used to let Nutmeg play outside whilst leashed to a stake. But it was just so depressing to watch his innate drives be foiled again and again because of rope length. 

He always comes home, he is never lost, he has never been hurt. He is obviously loved and well cared for. He wears a collar with our number on it (clearly). But man are strangers concerned.