Tuesday, July 31, 2007
The Queen Who Ate the Fair
Saturday, after getting off the boat, the inlaws wanted to go back to their house and rest for a while. Then they wanted to take the kids out to the county fair! Yeehaw!!!
I had already made the decision that I wouldn't be attending because (1) the only fair I like is our fair and (2) just the idea of spending time in the close proximity of tobacco chewers and spitters, and the crowd that was there just to see the tractor pulls didn't excite me in the least.
Ace took an oath that he would not allow the kids to eat meat at this fair. I said "whatever you do ... DO NOT LET THE KIDS EAT MEAT."
I had these visions. Visions of being stuck at my inlaws house for ONE more day while the four of them ralphed into trashcans because of some nasty food poisoning. I am NO dummy.
Apparently in Ace's mind, the oath meant NOTHING. Zilch. Nada.
Yeah yeah yeah... if I had wanted to be the control freak that we all know I am, I would have gone along. But I didn't want to go, so there.
They are gone for a good four hours, coming home smelling of the outdoors and cotton candy. They were telling me all about the rides that I would NEVER have placed my worst enemy's kids on, and then they went off to bed. They were still pretty riled up.
About an hour goes by, and I can't stay awake any longer. We head off downstairs, and the Queen is still awake. She can't get comfortable. Her stomach was hurting her. I turned and looked at Ace and asked him "WHAT did she eat?"
Knowing the Queen's penchant for junk food, I could only imagine. In the short amount of time they were there, the Queen consumed:
1. A bag of cotton candy
2. A caramel apple with nuts
3. A Sprite
4. A lemon shakeup
5. Part of a funnel cake
6. A CORN DOG
Now, the last time I had checked, the dog part of the corn dog means meat. Does it mean something else in other parts of the world that Ace has never been to? Thankyouverymuch for listening to me, dear.
She settled into my bed for the night (because, deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep down inside, I was hoping the Queen would let loose of her stomach contents on him during the night; it didn't happen that way). I went to sleep with the Monkey. Who promptly woke up. And started talking to me. At midnight.
Mommy... you sleeping with me (this time, she sounded nothing like DeNiro)? Why you sleeping with me?
Shhhhh... go to sleep.
10 minutes later: Mommy.... you still here? Why you here?
GO TO SLEEP!
Finally realizing and remembering that this child does not do well with people other than her 10,000 dolls and Barbies in her bed, I decided to leave for that lovely cot. The one that creaked like I was going to break it in half.
I try to get some sleep, but that cot is just so .... uncomfortable. It is fine and dandy for an 8 year old, but not a 37 year old. I get a little bit of sleep, but then my stooopid bladder wakes me up.
I decide that I am going to go sleep on the concrete floor that has carpet on it, otherwise known as the Monkey's floor. THAT is flipping uncomfortable. I manage to sneak back into the Monkey's bed with her, and sleep in a very precarious position for about 30 minutes.
Then she wakes up from a bad dream, and proceeds to carry on ANOTHER conversation with me. I leave for the cot again (only after having made it make a horrid sound, and the Monkey had to come out and survey whether the cot was still in one piece, as well as her mother).
The Queen gets up for the day, eats a good breakfast that her Grammy has made for her, and the proceeds to complain MORE about her stomach. At one point, she thought she was going to throw up.
So we bed her down in the back of the van, give her some trashbags, and hope for the best.
About 3 1/2 hours into the trip, she ralphs in a plastic bag. But then she is remarkably better. I guess she just needed to get it all out.
I would like to thank my husband for giving all of this to me as payback for having 4 hours of unadulterated silence.
I should have gone to that da** fair.
Conquering My Fear, One Treacherous Step at a Time
So when the inlaws said that part of going to Kentucky Down Under was going to be a cave tour, I thought "ok ... I can do this. I did Mammoth Cave, for pete's sake."
This cave is also a part of Mammoth Cave, called Mammoth Onyx Cave. I wanted the kids to have a good experience, and I didn't want them thinking their Mom was about ready to go over the edge, so I bucked up, put on a good face, and said yes I would also be attending the cave tour.
We waited around for our turn to be had. Our guide showed up and said she would start us in the original area of the cave (but wouldn't go down that way). So she took us to a room with a huge hole in the ground. They had built up an area around it so people wouldn't just fall in, but I was still on pins and needles, holding onto the back of the Man's shirt for fear he would try to launch himself into this hole.
This is the hole, but from underneath.
So we start down the stairs into the cave, and the guide had asked us to not touch anything in the cave. Yeah ... ok. Whatever. I think that is a guideline, not a mandatory thing, right?
We come down the first set of stairs, and I start to look around. Ok. I can handle this. It is a nice cool area, taking us away from the 90+ weather up above with 100 percent humidity. I can handle this. There are cool things in here, like a still. Yes. A still. They hid their stills in caves.
Do you know why there is a cave called Horse Cave? Because they used to hide their horses in them. These Kentuckians... can't get one over on them.
Then the steps start.
Did I mention that I also have a horrid fear of heights, and I can't stand stairs? I always have this feeling that I am falling backwards, and I am NEVER at ease on stairs. The stairs could be two deep, and I still feel like I am out of control. And because I feel like I am out of control, then everyone around me has to be out of control, too.
We start up these stairs, in through a very tight fit. This large woman is going to HAVE to touch SOMEthing on this cave tour, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
So I make my way through this one area, physically shaking the entire time because I am CERTAIN that I am going to just go tumbling off this "stair system" they have. I wasn't sure if I was more worried about hurting myself, or embarassing the crap out of my family. Whatever it was, it wasn't a really pleasant feeling.
We reach another flat area, and look back at the stairs we just came down ... this picture is horrid. My camera was on night mode, and you have to have nerves of steel to use that setting or you get this blurring that you see.
Then the guide turns. the. lights. out.
No point of reference. Kids starting to freak out, grabbing my hand. I think "don't you DARE touch me" and then I feel like a bad mother. Did I mention that I abandoned my children on this trip? My MIL took the Man's hand, the Queen went on her own, and Ace carried the Monkey through the more treacherous areas. If I had to handle taking care of anyone else myself, I would have either cracked or done a much better job with myself.
We reached the last area of stairs where they actually gave us a handrail to pull ourselves up with. And if you saw some of those stairs, you completely understood why.
The guide HAD to point out the cave crickets. Just had to. I was ok until I realized that there were little creatures hanging over my head. I was just coming to terms with the fact that water would drip on my head with no warning. Thanks. A whole lot.
The tour FINALLY ended with the welcome sight of wooden steps, and I was finally out of there. I had to let the kids go ahead with the inlaws to the picnic area to start lunch so I could hang on Ace and have my panic attack.
Needless to say, this woman will NEVER go into another cave. Ever. Again.
Monday, July 30, 2007
The Man and the Urinal
The first four hours of the trip went by without a hitch. Actually, the whole trip down went without a hitch. It lulls you into a false sense of security sometimes, thinking "I could take these kids ANYWHERE!"
We stopped in Louisville, Kentucky at a Pilot gas station/truck stop.
This was a totally different world for my kids.
This place was a mecca of stuff. CBs, calling cards, a machine that you put a quarter in and put your wrist up to the machine to get a puff of cologne .. I am sure it was some goooooood smelling stuff. And showers. The girls couldn't get over the showers.
Mommy! Look. There's a ....a ... SHOWER! WHY is there a shower here?!
We head off to take care of our business. Ace went into the men's room with the Man, and the Monkey tried to follow. It took about 15 seconds of enticement and convincing that she was headed into the wrong room.
The girls and I take care of things, and come on out.
Ace comes out, shaking his head and laughing. I asked what had happened.
You know those plastic things that sit in the urinal?
Well, having never had the need to use one, .... no. I don't know what you are talking about.
Well, there is a plastic thing in the urinal that holds the urinal cake .. you know... I guess to change the water blue. So I had had my lesson in urinalogy.
And apparently I am not the only person who has never seen or heard of this plastic thing that sits in the urinal, for all to pee on.
The Man walked in, took one look at that, threw caution to the wind and PICKS.IT.UP.
Did I mention that we were in a truck stop? Outside of Lousiville, KY? On I-65?
PICKS it up.
Daddy... what's this?
He had his hands immediately washed. He peed. He had his hands washed again. And I broke out my hand sanitizer and layered it on his hands. All the while he is saying "But Daddy washed my hands TWICE already!!!!"
Well, Door Man. That could never be enough. For as long as you live.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Back... all in one piece
1. The Man and the Urinal
2. Conquering My Fear, One Treacherous Step At A Time
3. The Queen Who Ate The Fair
4. One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Dead Fish
5. Buy A Cow, Make a Friend
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Apparently I have sufficiently p'ed off my husband
The start of a GOOD trip.
So sorry that I don't get too excited about making an 8 hour trip to somewhere where they could care less if I am there.
I mean, really. Put the shoe on the other foot, will ya?
Ok. Catch ya on the flip.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
T Minus One Day
See where this is going, people?
Here's the list of fun they have planned for us:
A trip to a place called Kentucky Down Under ... WOO HOO. At least it isn't another trip to Dinosaur World. I'm not kidding ... there IS such a place. And once you have been through it once, you don't need to do it again. We've been through it... twice. And this is 45 minutes from my inlaws place.
It really is just the LAST thing I want to do when I have traveled well over 8 hours to get there to then turn around and get RIGHT back in my van and travel back the same way we came to go do things. It is just ... I don't know... asinine?
THEN we are going to spend an evening at their county fair.
That is the part that scares me the most. Deliverance country ... county fair.
And then we will spend a day on their boat, fishing. The Man HATES to fish, and the Monkey hates fish. It is an excellent combination. So keeping them entertained on a boat that has a bucket to pee in .... 100 percent pure family fun right there!
And if you are wondering, yes, Ace WILL read this post. I can guarantee it. And yes, it will tick him off. Let him get his own blog ...
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
I'll make you an offer you can't refuse
Garage sales... some people love them, some people hate them, some people just have them. We fall in that last category. I am not a saler by nature. I could take them or leave them. Unless there is something at a sale that I absolutely have to have, I won't go. And I can't think of a thing that I absolutely have to have.
I just let people look around because, let's face it, people don't step on your property to get the hard sale. They don't expect a salesperson to come out and ask if they need any assistance (although we do have the occasional "can you bag that up for me?" or "can you help me carry that to my car?" questions).
However, I think we have invented a monster in one of the kids, through no direct fault of our own.
The Monkey has decided that she is going to go down the path of being a salesperson. Car sales, insurance sales, real estate agent (which runs in the blood of our family)... you name it, she will probably sell it. Or ... she might be a mob boss.
There were two lines of thought going through her head: (1) if the patron had kids, her job was to entertain those kids, or tell them that whatever toy or book they were looking at were hers and were not for sale (and then she would cross her arms and scowl at the child, hoping that the scare tactic of giving them the evil eye would scare the child away from the sale ... sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't). There was one point in time when I looked up, and she was doing some sort of dance routine in front of the open side door of a van with her very captive audience of one, staring straight out at her with a look on his face that either said "this kid is crazy" or "mother, PLEASE shut the door... PLEASE!"
OR (2) if the patron was there by themselves, she would mercilessly follow them through the garage, asking them if they wanted to buy whatever they happened to be looking at or holding.
Hey... you gonna buy that?
Hey... you wanna buy a book?
Hey ... that's my bathing suit... you want it?
A number of individuals let us know that she is the perfect salesperson. I don't know if that was a compliment or a dig. The jury is still out on that.
The best encounter went like this:
I had to tell the Monkey that she needed to stop following people around because it wasn't nice. I am sure they felt like there was a little lapdog at their heels. So she decided to sit in her chair and haggle with them.
One woman stopped to glance at the books in a Rubbermaid tub.
In her best DeNiro voice: You lookin' at my books?
Smile from the patron.
You wanna buy one of those books?
Oh no.... ummm.... I have enough of those for my ... ummmm... kids. (she was a grandmother).
Oh. Whatchyour kids look like?
The patron, probably fearing for the lives of her children and herself, scurried out to her car and made a hasty exit.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Watch out ... inflated ego ahead
One of the things that I love about singing (and this goes for ANYone who can sing) is the fact that people have no idea that a certain person can sing or not.
Like take Matt Powell, Robin's husband. I hear he has an awesome voice. I would NEVER expect it from him because he is very reserved and laid back. And I hear that Carly is following in his footsteps (I have heard her first-hand; she does have unbridled talent there).
This kind of stuff just makes me gooey inside for some reason. I loved Kevin Spacey before, but when I found out that he could dance, act, AND sing, I was smitten. Head over heels in love.
And Ewan McGregor. He is one of those "yeah... he's a grungy looking dude from Scotland" but then he opens his mouth in Moulin Rouge, and dude ... I am melted ice cream. I just love him.
So yesterday... now I'm not saying that I melted this person into ice cream because, well, I don't resemble Ewan McGregor at all. But today, I saw our doctor. He and his family have started to go to our church. It was a surreal experience to see him in the hallway. I felt kind of ... strange. Thank goodness I have never had to drop my drawers for the man. He is our age (later 30s) and has a drop-dead, cuter than a button wife.
I'm a SUCKER for tall men. And he is tall. And he just has this boyish quality about him. The Mominator sees the other doc in the practice, and the first time she saw our doc, she said "what's up with Doogie Howser?"
Our doc has seen our kids since the Door Man was a baby. So he has been through the Man and then the Monkey and my pregnancy with the Monkey. Needless to say, we have seen him a lot.
Now he saw ME in a different light. When we were finished singing Adonai (the feature offertory music), I walked off the platform and left through the side door, right next to him. His mouth was literally open. He just sat there and said "I had NO idea. I just ... wow. I mean.... just.... wow!"
Thank you very much. A high compliment .... and now I am a different person in his eyes. No longer am I me, the mother of the three kids who he swabs for strep tests. No longer am I me, the woman who has bursitis (who really SHOULD go back and see him again because she is in pain). No longer am I me, the one who had gall bladder problems after the birth of the Man.
I am now me, the Diva.
Friday, July 20, 2007
That time of year ...
They always sound so wonderful in theory, but when it comes down to it, they really are a PITA.
Like last year... we had two garage sales for some reason (well, because my inlaws wanted to haul their sh** up here and see if they could sell it because, according to my MIL, things just sold better up here... whatever).
So I guess I should shower and make myself more presentable because I can hear the worker bees out there, and if I am not out there when the Mominator and Mini Martha show up with their stuff, then my name is mud.
Later. Have a good Friday.
Labels: garage sales
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Pull the plug already, will ya?
The only not fine part of the evening was that I had to get a sitter. No biggie, really but I hate to tell someone that they will only be there for X hours, and then it turns into Y hours because my director just can't seem to get a handle on good time management.
We were finished in choir at 8:30, 15 minutes later than we should have been. Which then put our special ensemble practice off that much more because it was supposed to start at 8:30. Of course, I have to be a social butterfly and talk to people in the hallway.
But really ... an hour and a half of practice!? Seriously. I had to call home and tell my sitter that I was going to be later, and I really hate doing that because I like to win the trust of the parent of the sitter. Of course, the mom was just fine ... she totally understood.
But you know ... it isn't like we are singing backup to Beyonce.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Where I could have been yesterday
My first day of my externship, the prosecutor called me on my cell phone, asking me if I could start the day earlier, and be at it all day long. I was all "oooooohhhh, COOL!"
So I ditched my classes that day, and joined the prosecutor. Because my first day on the job, somebody decided to end up dead in a car. And in the little town where the law school was, that was BIG news. Of course, really ... any death is big news.
This was a student of the university. And because it was a death, but presumed to be a suicide, we still had to investigate.
It was an eye opener for me. Even though it was pretty cut and dry, I had to go to the apartment of this kid and see the cats that he had left behind. I had to go to his apartment and look at the possessions that he would never touch again. No note was left.
It was, to say the least, a very interesting day. And I thought "I could do this for a living. I really could."
Then I started to get more into the nitty gritty of life and work at the office. It was a place that I willingly went. I liked the attorneys who worked there. I liked the prosecutor. And he liked me enough to offer me a position as an assistant prosecutor as soon as I took and passed the bar. But I was moving to Kentucky (because Ace was already there, working) so I couldn't ditch him. It was a sure job, though.
Do I wish I had taken it? Sometimes.
And then I listened to the radio this morning. And heard about the action in the county courthouse yesterday and wished I had been there.
Apparently, there is a man being prosecuted. He was a pastor of a church, and he allegedly did some not so nice things with 2 14 year old girls in his congregation.
When a victim impact statement was being read, this pastor's mother decided that it was time for her heart to act up. So she fell off a bench.
Mind you, I am not making light of the fact that she "allegedly" has a heart condition, according to people close to her. However, it seemed to be a little ... oh, I don't know, staged.
She is in stable condition in the hospital, so she is doing fine.
But guess what the judge said? This is a little paraphrased but...
You will be sentenced on July 26. I won't tolerate any more delays. If anyone has a medical condition, they should NOT be in my courtroom.
And this is what I could have been witnessing yesterday.
Monday, July 16, 2007
More than a village
One of the things we didn't even think of when we bought this house was the fact that there is a business across the street, and that this street is just.... busy.
Another thing we didn't think of when we bought this house was how our fence ends right where our neighbor's property begins.
I promise, there will be cohesiveness in the end.
Since moving into this house, we have witnessed many a show here.
There were those two lesbians who stopped at our corner, and started making out. Much to the delight of Ace, of course.
Then there were those times when the business across the street would have a false fire alarm. Let me tell you, though... their response time: wonderful.
We live down the street from a home for mentally challenged individuals, so they have ambulance runs every once in a while.
Then there was that time when it was really icy out, and a cop decided that he was going to do a little Roscoe P. Coltraine.... gechgechgech... and tear down our street at over 50 some miles an hour. We weren't surprised when we heard him crash into something down the way, thereby bringing on the ambulance... again.
There was another time when the utility pole right across the street from us ... I mean, literally right across the street ... decided that it had had enough, so it snapped. And the line was down on the ground. And people just kept driving down our street. One van got zapped pretty good. It was rather entertaining.
Today was just another day ... some woman decided that she needed to break the utility pole across the street. Not the one that broke on its own... the one down from it. I have NO idea what happened ... but she RAN into it, full force. She escaped pretty much unscathed, but she did end up going to the hospital. It brought out everyone .. people were all standing around, speculating as to the cause of why she hit it. Of course, our down the street neighbor, the Neighborhood Watch Program himself, came down on his bike and uttered these words:
So. Bring me up to speed. What happened?
Just like that. Like ... he was there gathering information for a news story. I gave him what information I had, and then sent my kids inside. Once inside, I received a phone call from him. He was calling to let me know that I had it all wrong ... that she was driving westbound and ran right into the pole, as opposed to my theory that she had backed up and must have gotten the accelerator and the brake confused. Thanks, Bill. I will sleep SO much better tonight knowing that.
Of course, I did have a visit from the shoeless Robin ... she had just gotten out of the bathroom. Yeah. It brought out EVERYone, people.
They cleared everything away, but the power people were STILL working on the pole when I came home from teaching class, some six hours later.
So where does my neighbor fit into all of this?
I want to sell my house. I want to sell it badly.
My neighbor ... well, he's a piece of work himself. His favorite pastime is stand around with his shirt off, beer belly exposed, smoking a cigarette and finding SOME other way to improve his property. I am sure he just looks at our house with our swingset out back and screaming kids in the yard and wishes we would just leave.
But I have to plan these things accordingly. I need to (1) make sure that he isn't home during a showing and (2) call 911 to make sure that they don't use my street for any of their emergencies. Do you think that will work?
Because it is going to take more than a village to sell this house.
Mommy ... are Gramps' (FIL) lungs still black?
Gramps is a smoker, ladies and gents. And someone along the way has disclosed what smoking can do to the lungs. I am not sure who that was ... the Queen blames Ace, and Ace blames the Queen. So who knows. But my six year old wants to know. I replied:
Well honey, we really don't know what color Gramps' lungs are.
Well, he smokes.
Yes. He does.
From the back: Smoking is BAD. You shouldn't smoke.
No. You shouldn't smoke, Queen. That's right.
And you know what is worse than smoking cigarettes?
(fearing her response) What?
I didn't know what to say. I mean, she's going into the third grade. I need to stop being so naive. But really ... weed?
Ok. First of all, you are completely correct. Second of all, WHERE did you learn that term? Do you even know what weed is?
It is a drug.
Yes, that is correct. Who TOLD you what weed is?
Well now, there's a conversation that I probably should have been made aware of.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Now it is time to pay the piper
This week was my first week back to teaching night classes.
And it has whooped. my. butt.
In the sense of my full-time job, that is.
So here I sit, with over 1/2 of my work week left and the weekend looming ahead... and I am not thrilled with myself.
If someone can find a way to squeeze another five hours out of a day, can you let me know? Because I need to figure it out. Post haste.
Have a good weekend, y'all.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
I would like for you to meet my sister
You know what? Now I know who you remind me of!
Really. I hope it isn't someone awful.
Oh... I can't think of her name ... oh you know who she is ... that psycho woman in Misery!
Christie about peed her pants ... KATHY BATES?!?!!?! she screams?
Me ... I just sat there thinking to myself ... well, this could have gone two ways.
Hey..... you know who you remind me of? That woman from Fried Green Tomatoes ... not Jessica Tandy ... the younger one ... the funny one ... the one who took control of her life and found herself in that movie.
Hey ... you know who you remind me of? That psycho from Misery! The one who hobbles poor James Caan. The one who was the nurse in the maternity ward, and she was killing off those babies. The one who pushed her husband out a window. THAT one!!!
So you can well imagine how I was feeling after that comment. It was funny ... and I didn't mind at all. Really, I didn't.
Fast forward to this morning.
Mini Martha had commented on how she thought the Monkey would love Annie. We have the remake of it (not the Carol Burnett/Tim Curry/Albert Finney version ... that one I grew up on and I LOVED it). This is the one with that dude from Titanic ... the ship's engineer ... and, you got it, Kathy Bates. As the nasty, crotchedy old Miss Hannigan.
Kathy sings her heart out in Little Girls, and the Queen looks over at me and says "Mommy!!!! You look JUST like her. But you aren't mean like that."
Like that. Like that.
Methinks there is a pattern that is emerging here.....
Blah blah blah blah
Creative juices sucking out of my body.
Oh yeah. And the monthly visitor is here.
Maybe that is the problem. Ok. Just take "maybe" out of the sentence and re-read it.
Bleah. I HATE this time of month. I feel zapped of all energy and emotion because I used all of those emotions up the week before when I was raving crazed lunatic bi**h. Seriously. I told Ace that I do believe I have crossed over from PMS to some sort of super-heightened hormonal state ... some gargantuan mood swing state of mind that nobody in their right mind would ever choose to be around me when I am there.
Have you ever seen the Roseanne episode where they are all trying to deal with Roseanne's PMS? I remember it.... very vividly. I used to laugh about it. Now I don't.
PMS or pre-menopause, who knows? I was blessed to have started these monthly rituals at the age of nine. Nine, people. That is going on close to 30!!! years of this. Seriously, I'm done with it.
I remember when my Mom would have these terrible mood swings, and I would make flip comments like "man... are you going through the change or WHAT?"
yeah. That's not so funny now.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Whatever happened to just good old fashioned getting lost?
GPS, TomTom, On-Star ... all of these "navigational" devices. Are they for the man who loves gadgets, or are they really for the good of the human race?
Here's where I go all grandpa on you...
In MY time, we used to set out in the old Buick Limited without a care in the world. If we got lost, we got lost. It was good for some fine family entertainment.
Pull over. Ask directions.
I know where I'm going.
No you don't. If you did, we would be there already. ASK for directions.
Nope. Going to figure this out on my own.
It was the sign of a strong man who could "find his own way." Or a strong woman. Whoever was doing the driving.
It led to self-confidence.
One time, when your Mom and I were out driving around, we got so lost that I had to actually stop, grab some berries on the side of the road for us to eat, throw some dirt to the wind to figure out wind direction, and I was able to figure out which direction to go.
Of course, if you asked my Mom for HER rendition of the story, it went more like this:
We were so lost, your father finally gave in to my hour and a half worth of nagging and stopped at Stuckey's for directions.
Now there is GPS. My FIL has it. And he has been known to use it for his trips up here. Mind you, my house hasn't gotten up and moved or anything, nor have the highway departments changed the numbers on the signs. He uses it ... just because he has it. To show off.
I have been in a Caddy with On-Star. The driver wanted to show how cool the feature was, so she called it. She didn't want anything. She just wanted to show us. So I am sure the On-Star operator loved that call. And can you imagine the calls they get?
No offense to those of you out there who have these services or items. I am sure they are wonderful gadgets to have. But doesn't it kind of take the fun out of .... getting there?
Labels: navigational systems
Monday, July 09, 2007
I want to watch the Freakin' Lizard!
Friday was the last day for the Wizard (or the Lizard) at our house.
Friday morning, the Monkey walked in with Pink Molly, and stroking Molly's hair.
In a semi-maniacal manner, deadpan voice, no expression on her face, still stroking Molly's hair: Mommy. Do we still have the Lizard?
Me, kind of scared when we no longer have the Lizard in our house: Yes we do. Would you like to watch it?
Expressionless and emotionless, but still stroking Molly's hair: Yes.
I'm kind of scared...
Labels: the Monkey
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Daily Docket Doozies
Check it out ... keep reading for the best one... you will be rewarded. I promise. Ok ... no you won't. But it is funny.
Here's where you will be well-paid for sticking it out ...
A woman was arrested for disorderly conduct and possession of marijuana after deputies found her stumbling on a local street on Friday. When officers asked if she had money for a cab home, the woman reached in her pocket to search for money and pulled out a plastic bag containing marijuana.
Labels: daily docket
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Our Farmer's Market
However, it seems to have gotten a little out of hand, customer-wise.
The whole thing is sponsored and monitored by the Chamber. Good thing. Wouldn't want just any farmer coming in to sell his sides of beef that are riddled with Mad Cow Disease or anything. But they have a very strict rule.
No selling before 4:30 pm.
They forbid it. They chastise the little old farmer who is there selling his overabundance of zucchini and summer squash, telling him that he absolutely cannot sell before they ring their little bell.
That does not, however, cut down on the people (ok... myself included ... at least THIS week) who get their stuff bagged up so they don't miss out on something before the bell rings, only to bum rush that poor little farmer when they hear the tink tink tink of the bell.
People are just rude. Downright rude. Mini Martha, the kids, and I are at a little stand with baked goods. This man .. this VERY rude and obnoxious man ... pushes his way up and freaking PINS my sister against the table. She was PISSED off.
You know where the "sought afters" are by the lines that are present, even at 4. It is atrocious.
We have our staples ... zucchini, summer squash, a tomato or two, some little red potatoes, free-range eggs, some baked goods, and then I have to go support the local young family.. the ones with the Angus beef. No hormones. Excellent meat. The best I have tasted. I started to panic when I didn't see them, but they eventually pulled up as soon as I was getting ready to leave. Got my hamburger patties (grilled those tonight ..... YUMMMY!!!!) and my chuck roast. We had their sirloin roast last weekend .... that was devoured in a matter of a day.
So my suggestion to the Chamber is this: not only enforce that 4:30 buying time, hand out brochures to all customers about exhibiting good manners. Really, it would go a long way.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
All Hail, The Mayor of Chalktown
They played with it for 3 seconds. Tops.
I was remembering that moment ... that moment when I wanted to pull all the hair out of my head. So I decided to tell the Man about much he exasperated me that day.
The look on his face ... that "ding ding ding" look. The wheels starting to turn....
And the Man became the self-proclaimed Mayor of Chalktown, complete with a Great Wolf Lodge, Calahari, Castaway Bay (Cedar Point's version of the aforementioned two), a McDonald's, Burger King, and Ace Hardware. He had all sorts of buildings, but he had no police or fire station, so he had to remedy that. I didn't have the heart to tell him that his town really is an engineering nightmare....
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Stupid Decision # 1,452,600
Last night, the Queen spent the night at a friend's house so I thought "Hey ... we've done it before. Let's have the Man and Monkey have their own sleepover."
Mistake. In the largest degree.
The Monkey went down in the Man's room just fine. We set her up on her own little bed area, and when the Man went to bed, she was still there in the same spot, but still awake. I thought "ok ... they will talk and goof around for a while but then.... out like lights."
Well, there was a light involved. But it had nothing to do with the kids' lights going out.
It had everything to do with the Man's light being turned on. All the time. Ace got up, took care of it, and didn't think to turn it off at the source, which is a pull knob on the ceiling fan. When I came home from getting some milk, he asked me to look down the hallway to see if the light was on again. It was, of course.
I go in and find the Monkey out of her "bed" throwing something away. This was at 10.
I turn the light off at the source.... because you know, we women have bright and only GOOD ideas, right?
I tell them, under no uncertain terms, that they needed to get to bed. Now. Stop fooling around. Go to sleep.
One hour later after watching .... ummmmm.... ok. We were watching Little House on the Prairie: Look Back to Yesterday. Did you know that Albert had a terminal illness? Did you know they don't SHOW him dying in the end? What a waste of an hour.
The Man comes out, holding his hand under his left eye.
The Monkey THREW something at me. And she peed in my trashcan.
Nice. The "thing" she "threw" at the Man: her sippy cup. While he was dead asleep. Clocked him a good one. He had a shiner this morning.
And never, under ANY circumstances, tell your "I take EVERYthing literally" child that he is going to have a black eye in the morning.
My eye is going to turn BLACK!?!?!?!?!
Peals of wailing emerge from his little body. I am sure it was extremely traumatizing to be sleeping and then have someone clock you the way the Monkey did.
Needless to say, the Monkey didn't make it to morning in the Man's room. She was promptly sent back to her room to stew about what it was she did.
I don't know what surprised me more: the sippy cup used as a deadly weapon, or the trashcan used as a toilet.
I guess she decided it was a cool place to pee, because I saw Ace rinsing her trashcan out today.
I have decided that four is NOT the best year. Who ever coined it the terrible threes was WAAAAAYYYYYY wrong. There's NOTHING good that I can say about this age right now.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Methinks the hawks are following us
It must just be us. And the hawks must love us.
Labels: more dead birds
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Dinner and a movie
When I was in law school, I was told of a tale of a fateful trip when my moot court coach's team had to take our advisor to every single IHOP from NW Ohio to Pennsylvania. I could well imagine the hell that was for them.
So we are sitting there, waiting for our food to arrive. I am talking to the Mominator, when I see it and I hear that thump sound. A bird hit the window, and met his demise. He was lying on the ground, all dead, and the Man and I had to investigate.
What IS that, Mommy?
That sound you just heard ... that is a dead bird. He ran right into this window here.
WHY? That was stupid.
Stupid is as stupid does, Door Man.
Blank stare. So ... when's he gonna get up?
Never, dear. Never. Hey .. you know what the last thing that went through that bird's mind was?
Ok. So never waste a dead joke on a six year old. Seriously. It doesn't work. I think he is just finally getting the why is there a fence around the graveyard joke. This one .... flew right over his head. No pun intended, of course.
We return to our table where the kids' meals have arrived. The Man and Monkey hunker down into their Happy Face pancakes, and I can't get this bird off my mind. The dude in a booth by the window had gotten the giggles over the whole thing. Apparently, he has a soft spot in his heart for aviary death.
I wonder ... who is going to clean that poor bird off the sidewalk? I wonder if it was a boy or a girl? I wonder if it had a family? I wonder where my food is?
My food arrived, and my simple mind is taken away to the fact that I have a double decker BLT in front of me, along with onion rings that I knew I was going to have to guard with my life before the Man, AKA Onion Boy, got whiff of them.
I start to eat, and then I see something else out of the corner of my eye.... a hawk. I guess he had just happened to be flying over the old IHOP, saw the tasty morsel on the sidewalk, and decided to take away the job of the dewy-eyed busboy who had been told that he was on bird removal duty for the evening. That hawk picks up that bird in its talons ... and lumbers off. To a not so far away lightpole. In the parking lot. Within eyeshot of all the patrons on our side of the restaurant. To eat the bird.
All the while that the hawk is chowing down, one of my queries was answered: there was a fellow blackbird, dive-bombing the hawk as it made small business out of eating that dead bird.
My kids loved it. The Man, who doesn't have great distance vision, could just see the hawk. He couldn't make out what the hawk was doing. He left that up to the Monkey, whose senses are as sharp as a whip.
OOOOOO!!!!! That big bird is sitting up dere, eating that little birdie!!!!
Needless to say, it would have been a pretty bland and uneventful evening at IHOP had it not been for the scintillating entertainment that was offered.
Labels: eating out
I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.
Retiring the Blog