Yesterday, Mr. T and I went to the bug store and bought more crickets.
Crickets officially creep me out. We asked for 24, but we think the guy just scooped up a handful and put them in, probably giving us 35 to 40.
There they were, in the cricket container, crawling all over each other and I realized that the difference between those little roaches (German roaches?) and crickets are that crickets have the ability to hop.
It's like that difference between the rat and the squirrel, the squirrel has better clothes. The difference between roaches and crickets are crickets hop.
Crickets completely SKEEVE ME OUT. Gah! *shudder*
I said to the woman at the check out, "Crickets are nasty. They remind me of those little roaches..."
To which she replied, "You know we JUST started to carry those little roaches?"
I stared at her with an expression of revulsion and said, "NO! What in the WORLD eat THOSE?"
And she shook her head, without a clue. I wanted to run out of the store.
We got home, and Mr. T dumped about 24 of the crickets in the cage with the ghecko where he promptly ate ALL OF THEM but maybe eight and as of this evening, there are three or four remaining, with 10 more still in the cricket cage.
We have some theories. Mine is that we have a Non-Purging Bulimic Ghecko... he only does the Binging section of Bulimia. Essentially, I think we have a Ghecko with an eating disorder.
Mr. T thinks that he's bored. There's nothing to do, all these hopping
roaches crickets all over so he eats for sport.
Ringo thinks... he eats because all the crickets piss him off. They're hopping all over his cage, on him, in his space, all over and so he eats them just to make them go away.
Peace and Quiet.
Dang. Can you imagine if humans were like that, eating the people who piss them off or bug the stew out of them?
That would have been the end of the human race. They'd have eaten their young. For sure.
More to come. For sure.
(Yes, I'm becoming more obscure in my choice of titles for posts dealing with this topic...)
Based on the hysteria yesterday here in S FL, you'd think it never rains. Please. This is the tropics.
I was at work yesterday and someone said, 'Hey! There's a Tropical Storm coming this way!' and I looked at the weather map and it was still a tropical depression.
My reply was, "Hey. Don't get all chickin-littley on me!"
By the time I picked up the kids from school, everyone was talking about it, wondering if schools would close. It's funny how different parents are.
Me? Personally? I'd have LOVED it to be a bad weather day, where we could have all hunkered down in the house and slept late and lounged around. I had another mom say to me, 'They NEED to be in school."
Really? NEED to be? No they don't. Missing a day doesn't hurt them. Good grief. Sometimes a sanity day is good.
That said, as soon as I read schools would be open, they were going. If it's open, they go. No discussion.
It was rain. NO WIND. JUST RAIN. The kids were hugely disappointed. I hid my disappointment. It's coming up on 1 Oct and I'm flat beat with kids at three different schools. We've completely made it work, but I'm exhausted. A day off in the middle of the week would have been nice.
And here is the difference between private school and public school.
Two of my kids are in private school. Not one kid missed because of 'weather'. Every kid was there. If school is open, the kids go.
Bones is in public school. He said literally HALF the kids in EVERY class didn't go. What is that about?
More on crickets tomorrow... let me just say, I think our Ghecko is a binge eater.
We came home today from school and work and... Ghecko ate the last of the crickets.
He binged again today.
We went from going every five to six days to buy 'live food' to going every TWO days.
So. Our solution?
Tomorrow we are buying TWENTY-FOUR crickets, Mr. T is going to let them ALL loose in Ghecko's cage, and then we'll see how long they last. Mr. T thinks he's eating out of boredom. I'm wondering if he's not been getting enough to eat, that one cricket is not enough, but it should be two or three a day.
So we'll see. More to come. I think that the 24 crickets will last four days.
Oh and from TGOO to my boys, a little video. My boys have agreed, "Nasty".
Frickin' Reptile/Amphibian Boy Scout Badge.
Did I tell you I'm not into this? I don't like things in my house that eat other live things. *I* don't eat live things. I buy my vegetables already dead. My meat comes dead, cut, and processed in plastic at the local grocery store. I don't raise my meat and I don't slaughter it.
Someone else gets paid for that. They're called... farmers. I love farmers. They're my favorite people. Without them... I'd starve.
And I try, I really try, to look at the bright side of all of this 'keep a reptile/amphibian for at least a month' gig that we have going on. The bright side being that at least it's not a snake that eats... bunnies, mice, hamsters, or gerbils... small live rodents.
I FLAT OUT Could NOT do that. NO.
So today I found myself going to the Pet place AGAIN, before 12 days was up; 12 days being magic because I buy these frickin' crickets in bulk. Twelve crickets is the package for us. One a day. Like frickin' vitamins.
That means... 12 days. Right?
Except we've not made it 12 dang days yet. Our first batch, my eldest son was sneaking in and feeding the loud ones to the Ghecko while we slept because... he couldn't... sleep. Between four that died, and the midnight Ghecko feedings, I was traipsing with said plastic cricket container at day... six.
I figured we'd be better at this cricket game now. The first four died because someone forgot to put a grape in and they died of dehydration or starvation or something. We can keep the Ghecko alive, but not his food.
This time, I was ALL OVER Mr. T, that keeping the crickets alive was part of this gig.
We bought 12 more crickets... and... we end up with a frickin' CANNIBAL cricket.
WHAT was the frickin' probability of THAT?
Evidently, pretty low, says TGOO, who went on line and told me that crickets are NOT cannibals.
I said, "OH yeah? Well they need me to update their site for them because WE got a cannibal cricket."
He read off a list of what crickets will eat, cricket not being on the cricket menu.
And not only did we end up with the cannibal cricket, I had to hear about it AT DINNER.
Here we were, sitting around the dinner table, when Mr. T starts on his rant about his stupid crickets and how one of them was eating the others because there were cricket legs scattered in the bottom of the plastic box and then one was found disemboweled.
If you can do that to a cricket.
Gutless it was.
Thoroughly grossed out was I. I mean, Really? Do I have to hear about this at all... let alone during dinner?
What are we getting, inbred crickets? Crickets so 'mentally deficient' that they don't realize the INTERNET SAYS they aren't supposed to eat each other?
And if that weren't bad enough, I was on my way home with the crickets today when I took a turn to the left and heard a 'clunk'. It was the plastic cricket keeper having turned onto its side.
Aghast, I opened the door to the asexual mom-mobile, to find the top hatch OPEN. One of the inmates was trying to escape when I slammed the hatch shut, catching its leg. The question remains, Did an inmate escape? Do I have a cricket in my car?
There are 14 more days and Ghecko goes back home.
This could be a long dang 14 days...
**UPDATE- Dammit. Look in the comments and you'll see the conversation between Writersblock and me. HER Ghecko doesn't do the 'Cricket Binge'. Oh... but no, no, no, you think OUR Ghecko would know moderation?
I got off my site and said to T, "Throw those suckers in there. It's got to be better than what we're doing now..."
So with great excitement, Bones watched as T threw them all in there and Bones came back and said, "MOM! That was the WORST IDEA EVER! We only have THREE left!"
Me: Wait. He ate one already. That left us 11. Are you telling me he just ate EIGHT crickets?
And with great flair, Bones demonstrated how Ghecko went BAM! BAM! BAM! and snapped them all up.
I'm frickin' going back to the pet store Tuesday... Dang it. Meanwhile, Mr. T said he thinks we may be good until Wednesday, he doesn't think that Ghecko will be hungry for awhile.
"Mom, I don't know whether the Ghecko was just that hungry or if he was bored. He didn't have anything else to do."
Who knew that Gheckos ate out of boredom. I thought that was just a human trick...
Before I start this post, I just wanted to do my own little Public Service Announcement: BlueBell Banana Pudding ice cream, totally rocks.
I was at work on Friday when I started a conversation with two other women I work with. To the best of my recollection, it went like this:
Me: What do you think of this Katy Perry/Sesame Street bruhaha? And let me add, I had NO CLUE who Katy Perry was until all this 'Elmo stuff', but I had heard of the Hot and Cold song. I get points for that...
G1: Leave it to you to not know who Katy Perry is. I think the whole thing is kind of ridiculous. (sidenote: She is such a conservative mom, she buys her clothes for her daughter from online, very conservative girl clothes and would NEVER think of shopping at Justice or the other girl clothing stores that she thinks dresses girls like hussies. Just some background there...)
Me: I know. Did you see her in the video? The way the did her make up sweet pink lipstick that matched the flowers on her veil, the way they had her wide eyed, they had her acting like she was a 4 year old. She totally fit with Elmo. It was sweet.
G1: The stuff people make a big deal over...
Me: I watched it. The dress had a back to it. It looked like a short wedding dress. Wedding dresses are like that, small strappy things. She looked like... she was playing dress up princess or bride.
G1: Look, these folks complaining, do they let their daughters watch Disney movies? Jasmine? Hellooooo?
Me: Good point. I know a number of guys that wanted 'Jasmine' costumes for their wives, for the sake of role playing. Hilarious stuff when that movie came out... (*male laughter emanated from one of the cubes when I said this and as the conversation continued*)
G1: And... excuse me? Ariel? They're complaining about Katy Perry's clothing and they let their kids watch Little Mermaid. Ariel is wearing... TWO SHELLS.
*more laughter from men in cubes*
G2: You're right! She is! Just a big fin and two shells! And how did they get those two shells to stay?
Me: *ahem* I believe in the adult world they call them... Pasties.
*lots of laughter from the men in the cubes at that point*
So we don't get it. I respect their concerns, but I do think it's a bit ridiculous. If Katy Perry can't dress like a princess, then Moms and Dads out there... look REALLY hard at what the Disney Princesses are wearing.
There is some serious skin...
We are up and off in the morning to work on our... 4th or 5th Eagle Scout project in the last 6 months. We now have two boys in our Troop that have just made Eagle and three more waiting to complete their project and have their final review.
They've all been so dang different and... a learning experience each and every one.
So... I know y'all have guessed. I was over at HOZ's and it was a funny post about her birthday, falling out of a chair, funny comments about stiff necks, etc, and I happened to mention something about loving September babies.
I do! I love September babies! They make me laugh! For, if you were born in September, possibly early October, you are the product of... Christmas or New Year's... maybe even Valentine's Day.
Aiming this at September babies, 9 months previously, Mom and Dad were probably in some sort of festive mood, possibly knocking back a few, feeling all warm and cozy with the giving feeling of the Spirit of Christmas. This continues through New Years and Voila! You have a plethora of babies.
Now... I know I was conceived on Christmas Eve. TGOO never hid the fact, he being the one that set up the family album. There on the first page, I believe, is a picture of my Mom, sitting on a couch, her legs tucked up on the couch as well, smiling sweetly, wearing something special (not risque). Mom has always looked good. At that age, she looked like Liz Taylor.
*Update, corrected by TGOO* TGOO, being
oh not so subtle, wrote on the bottom of the picture in pen, something like, "Christmas Eve, 1964, BC" where BC stands for Before Children Conception.
So I've just always known. It's never bothered me. It just... is. And I thought it was kind of funny.
You would not BELIEVE how many people I've had the following conversation with (no joke):
Me: Oh! You're a September baby...
Me: Looks like Christmas was a very happy time for your parents too, hunh?
Person: *blink* What?
Me: 9 months before... Christmas parties... Christmas Eve, Christmas Day... New Years...?
Person: OMG! I've never thought of it it that way...
Really? Please. Give me a break. How can you NOT realize it?
Anyway, I was over at HOZ(I've linked to my favorite post of hers... a new one, as it reminds me of Bones) and I wrote about the Christmas/September birthday phenom in the comments, and I started to wonder, how many September birthday babies, have June babies?
Because... folks... when you have kids, when you have babies, there isn't a lot of sleep in a house. When there are little people in the house, there isn't a lot of anything going on but survival. Get it? hint hint?
So as tired as you are, passing each other in the hallways like ships in a night, changing diapers, cleaning up puke, pacing the floors with crying babies, and all that comes with it... something will occur that will make you remember that you REALLY ARE MARRIED and that person REALLY DOES HAVE A CONNECTION to you.
Birthdays will ring the bell. Holidays. Anniversaries. Special events. Sometimes that event just being, 'Holy sh--, we have a sitter!', which usually centers around anniversaries and birthdays as well.
And that... my friends... is how Bones came about. He doesn't know this. I'm waiting for the day that he counts back 9 months and realizes that he was conceived on 8 September. It's going to happen. With Bones? The unmathmatical mind? It could be 20 years from now. But mark my words, it's GOING to happen.
And that led me to... how many festive Christmas holidays ultimately resulted in June grandchildren?
I know... it's a stretch and a sickness. It is. But that's where my math mind went.
What is the correlation between September (possibly Oct) birthdays and June (possibly July) birthdays? And as Roses pointed out, I really needed both spouses bdays, but most of y'all provided it, so it's cool. (If you've not read Roses, you should. She's one of the funniest blogs out there...)
And of the folks that answered that someone had a Sept/Oct bday, nearly 50% had a baby with a June/July bday. That's not a bad stat... we may be off here and there, but it's dang close.
So... as Christmas approaches, as you find yourself feeling festive and frisky this Christmas with your 'in child bearing years' spouse, you may find yourself with a September baby... and in turn... in 30 years, find yourself with a June grandbaby.
Dang, if I could parlay this weird analytical talent of mine into something that paid... I'd be rich.
To my readers with September and October birthdays, please let me know in the comments or via email...
If you are a September or October birthday, do you have a child born in June or July?
Please specify the month YOU were born and the month of your child and/or children.
More to come...
Work has been rather rough lately. In different capacities I'm working with two people who are not competent. Neither mean anything maliciously, they have just truly passed their highest level of competency.
Bonus is that nothing they do is of any consequence in the long run and with so much oversight, it's always caught.
Negative is... it means that much more work and aggravation for people like me.
Here's a tip for those of you who don't work big industry... big companies have lay offs to get rid of folks like this. Oh sure, they'll blame it on the economy, and sure, that's the catalyst. When the economy is bad... the least competent have to go. If the economy is REALLY bad, they cut deep into their good people and that's when the big problems start.
Both folks are the nicest people you'd ever want to meet. They'd give you the shirt off their backs. But... it just aggravates me to no end, in particular as I know both of them make more money on an hourly basis than I do.
On a positive and funny note, my three girlfriends as a joke, sent me a shake-a-weight in the mail! (Expensive joke... dang...)
So I called one of them up and I'm LMAO when I nearly screamed, 'You... CANNOT... MAKE THIS UP!" and I read to her, the little yellow warning tag attached to the item:
"Warning... To avoid possible injury, keep shake-a-weight at least 6 inches from your face while exercising. For instructions go to www.howtoshakeit.com"
On a good kid note... tonight I was at the kitchen table paying bills when T came in and said, 'Mom, can you proof this essay for Music?"
I took it from him when I heard Ringo say, "Good move. Get Mom to proof your stuff and you'll make an A..."
Said Mr. T, "Why do you think I asked?"
Love the kids. Mostly... I guess I'll let them stay... this week. Heh.
I came home from a trip to be met by Bones, "Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! The crickets... when you bought them last week, they didn't give us 12. We're out. You need to buy more. And we need to COUNT them. Only two died, so that means we should have a few left and we DON'T!"
Whatever. I was more along the lines of, "Who in the heck cheats someone out of crickets? Really? Work ethics are so bad that they can't bother to catch us 12 crickets? They can only give us 8 or 9? They cheated us out of... 30 cents?"
I let it slide.
After I was back from my trip, Ringo and I were riding to the Boston College seminar when he said to me, 'That last batch of crickets was really loud."
Me: Yeah. I noticed.
Ringo: I sleep right next to that room, you realize.
Me: Oh. Right. How bad was it?
Ringo: The first night, it was loud. I was pissed. So I went in and fed one of them to the Ghecko and it got quiet...
Ringo: I did it the next night too. I think I shook out two or three extra. The loud ones got eaten early. I would have just thrown them all in there, but I didn't want to kill the Ghecko.
Me: Do your brothers know you threw the loud crickets to the Ghecko to make the chirping stop?
Ringo, grinning: No. They just think we got shorted crickets...
Dang. Didn't I JUST post on how those loud ones had to die? Like mother like son. Ringo saw to it.
We're now on our second batch of crickets. Twenty more days and Mr. Ghecko goes home...
I just started reading Band of Brothers. I've never seen the series, but I had heard it was fantastic. TGOO said the book was the best, so he gave me his copy to read.
I love the book, I can't put it down, I am breathless as I read because every page I turn... I worry one of them is going to die.
I told my eldest he needs to read it. After I'm finished, I'll just put it on his bed and see. Sometimes things just get read when you aren't looking...
I was with some girlfriends this weekend, all of us holed up in a hotel doing our thing. I used to go and room alone, but finances being what they are, I now room with them.
I resisted for years. This was my down weekend.
But... I have really grown close to these women and we laugh hysterically all weekend now.
I don't watch TV. We all know that as fact. We had a 'cocktail' party in our room before dinner the other night, and someone had turned the TV to check on Hurricane Igor as one of the women has a daughter that lives in Bermuda.
And... a commercial came on. I'll let you view it first.
There is so much wrong with this... I don't even know where to start. My eyes bugged out, as this was the first time *I* had ever seen it.
Said I, "Wait. What EXACTLY are these girls practicing for?"
Only $19.95 and you only have to do it 6 minutes a day.
Ladies, if you're contemplating this exercise 'toy', here's a little hint, "I think there are some guys that will let you do it for free... for 6 minutes a day. They provide the 'weight'".
Dang. Who thinks this stuff up?
Meanwhile, my BFF from high school is reading this and inside her head a voice is screaming, "She did NOT JUST PUT THAT ON HER BLOG! Her MOTHER reads her!"
It's been a busy weekend. This evening we are taking my eldest to a seminar given by Boston College. It's not that we can afford to send him there (we can't) or that he wants to go there (he doesn't think he does), or that he could actually get in (doubtful), but we want him to see what's expected to get into some of the great schools outside of the State of Florida.
An eye opening if you will...
Meanwhile, I am perpetually amazed by the great things people are doing every day as an assist to others. Extraordinarily humbling it is...
So take the time and visit Paws for Patriots. Amazing stuff... put together by Southeastern Guide Dogs, they provide seeing eye dogs for veterans who have lost their vision serving our country.
I heard LtC Champion speak this weekend, her companion, Angel, at her side.
Heart warming. Take a look. You won't be sorry...
She's paying it forward now... this year she will be visiting every sight impaired soldier at Walter Reed and Bethesda.
It's been 27 years since I've had Chemistry. You'd think some of it would come back.
Evidently, Chemistry is not Algebra or like riding a bike...
Yesterday was the first day we had to buy crickets to feed our new pet Ghecko, a pet that will be leaving our home in 24 days, as it's just on loan for a Boy Scout badge.
When I picked up said 'pet', I was told "Sometimes you'll buy crickets and for some reason, they're noisy. Some are quiet, some are noisy. We just kept them on the back porch."
First batch... we got noisy crickets. We got the chirping kind.
I think... they need to die. I think the Ghecko needs a cricket binge. It's coming...
I've come to the conclusion that Valedictorians and Salutatorians and the kids who vye for the positions, are kids who mature faster than the others... and they're driven.
That's it. They come into their own quicker, for whatever reason. They're eye on the ball, no foolin' around, they're ready for the world. All the rest of the teenagers are too caught up on trying to figure out who they are and if they can get a kiss on Friday night.
I don't have any Valedictorians, Salutatorians or kids who will vye for those positions in this home.
It's all good...
Work kind of sort of sucks right now. We have three people retiring at the end of the year. The beginning of the baby boomers are starting to truly leave the work force.
For some work areas, that might not be so bad. In the high tech arena, it does not bode well. We're talking years and years of technical knowledge... *POOF!*, gone.
They've been predicting this nasty trend in the aerospace industry for awhile and... it's here.
I'm ready for Saturday. I need sleep.
Blogging has been light as life has taken over... my life.
Last night I had a core meltdown, or as I told them at work, "A full on nuclear meltdown", which their having seen me in a bad state, but not THAT state, made them shudder. My kids can push my buttons like no other and last night... I'd finally had it.
It's not that I get attitude. I don't. They're good kids, hanging out with other good kids, no drinking, smoking, drugs, no running the streets in fast cars. They are respectful and funny...
... but the part that stresses me out about MY teens is that NOW is when it starts to COUNT. You can't declare a mulligan on an AP History exam or an Honors Chem test. Your grade is your grade and this is the stuff that gets sent to the schools. And all three of them are guilty of this procrastination.
So it makes me a little bat crap crazy, some of the stuff that's been going on here the past week or so. It's better than it was, but it needs to be better than it is.
I have spent more and more time in my mental escape up in the mountains. I have wondered often why it is I am drawn to the mountains and not the desert. Why the mountains and not the ocean?
Don't get me wrong, I love the ocean, the power with the serenity. But the mountains... bring me peace.
And some events have occurred in the last week that made me realize why it may be... some of my fondest memories of my childhood are of living on a mountain. The crisp cool air, the weather... the foliage... all of it.
And I think that's the link, although my adult mental escape has me in the mountains up in the Carolinas living alone in a little one bedroom cottage with a gourmet kitchen with a great garden and a large dog, None of that is anything like my mountain childhood memories. (The garden thing should show you it's all fantasy given I have that great big black thumb...)
My escape now is... for serenity. Books, music, gardens, a place I can cook, sit, listen... I picture it with a white clean gourmet kitchen and the great room with a fire place and overstuffed furniture. No TV. A great stereo system and bookshelves to the ceiling. It smells clean as the windows are always open. I wear over sized dresses, big floppy sun hats and no shoes. And my dog is a retriever of sorts who likes me to throw a tennis ball or lay at my feet when I'm in the yard.
I've spent a lot of time there in that mental state lately... the reality is it probably wouldn't be so groovy.
But this week... its wonderful.
... there just are not words.
I actually think I'm angrier now than I was 9 years ago.
I didn't think that was possible.
I received notification from the school tonight, that grades were posted for Bones on this week's tests.
He had a math test today.
Last year, 3rd quarter in math... he made an F. We received no help from his teacher, no guidance in what to do, no heads up, she flat didn't care. Bones and I flailed. Fourth quarter, he brought it up to a D.
I was sick. I didn't post any of this. Until you have a child that struggles, until you have a child that is failing... you cannot know how hard it is to openly say, "My child is failing."
You are sick for them. You are sick for you. You are sick for their future.
I had people actually laugh when they heard, friends, who said, "You tutor MATH and your kid is FAILING?" I was so angry I wanted to punch them in the face. It's nothing to laugh at when you cannot help your own child. It's beyond personal. Never should there be the sound of laughter when any child is failing at anything.
He had his first math test today. For three weeks we've been religiously doing homework. For three weeks he's been saying, "Hey! I think I get it!" For three weeks he's been saying, "Mom, I LOVE my math teacher. He explains it all so well." For three weeks...
...and today... he made a 92.
I took a deep breath, clicked on the grade button, closed my eyes, opened them... and he had A.
My son has an A in math.
I'm so happy... I'm crying.
I have hope.
*Update- Commenting issues appear to be resolved. The spammer from China named Richard needs to die...*
Me: Hey. It's me...
Lisa, who has four boys: Hey!
Me: Do you have a reptile I can borrow for 30 days? Mr. T has to finish that reptile badge and we either need to borrow one or we have to trek out to the zoo every week for three months or something so he can sketch it... some nonsense like that.
Lisa: Sure! You can have it.
Me: NO! I don't want to KEEP it. I just want to BOR-ROW IT.
Lisa: OK. I'll bring it to tomorrow's Scout meeting.
Me: Umm... what exactly am I borrowing?
Lisa: Oh, a ghecko!
Me: A ghecko? What in the heck does one do with a ghecko?
Lisa: Oh Bou, it's a zero pet. It does absolutely NOTHING. It just sits there.
Lisa: You just have to go to the pet store once a month and for a buck you buy live crickets...
Lisa: Don't worry, I'll give you the cricket cage too.
Me: Cricket cage? It eats live things? In my house? Crickets? How in the hell am I supposed to keep crickets ALIVE?
Lisa: Piece of cake. Just a piece of fruit in the cage, like a sliced grape or piece of canteloupe. The crickets are great then.
Me, visualizing and KNOWING damn well I'm going to end up with crickets ALL OVER MY HOUSE because I live with BONES: Crickets.
Lisa: Seriously, it's not a problem.
Me: I wonder what it's like to be a girl Mom. Really. I mean, they don't have to go around borrowing reptiles, worrying about live crickets in their house.
Lisa: But they have to worry about attitude.
Me: Yeah, but still, I just had this conversation with another boy-Mom friend of mine, with boys, you really have to step out of your box. I mean, my boys will never understand how far out of my box I've had to go for them. I'm borrowing a frickin' GHECKO and buying live crickets to feed it. This is not me...
Lisa: True. Hey, maybe it'll die when you have it... get it off my hands.
Me: NO! It can't die! Not before 30 days. Mr. T needs this badge. Maybe it will die on Day 31...
Lisa: I should be so lucky.
So. Stay tuned. As of 9/9/10, we own a ghecko. For 30 days.
Me: You don't have school tomorrow.
Bones: I know. It's something to do with the Russians.
Me: The Russians?
Bones: Yeah. We never got off school for the Russians at my old school. (sidenote: he went to a small Catholic school.)
Me: Umm... It's not for the Russians. It's Rosh Hashanah. It's a Jewish High Holiday.
Bones: OHHHHH! I was wondering what was up with the Russian thing...
I haven't been all random in awhile... so a mix of the random with the up to date:
Poor Vehicular Choices
The asexual Mom-mobile having 155K miles on it and it not having been in the shop for a good go over since 130K, and this being an impromptu trip, my husband decided we would take his sedan on the 9 hour trek to surprise TGOO for his 70th.
The sedan has a great large backseat, which seems to shrink with every hour spent on the road. Phrases that you don't like hearing from the backseat include, but are not limited to:
"If you don't shut up, I'm going to strangle you with my sling"
"Bones. If you don't stop bugging me, I'm going to open this door and throw you out."
That last one was said around Hour 7, as we were on I-10 cruising at something slightly faster than the posted 70 mph... Love that. (Evidently I wasn't the one driving.)
Everyone Loves Ringo
Ringo's purple cast has many signatures. I noticed one of them with a big heart next to it. This was our conversation:
Me: Hunh. Who's Allison?
Ringo: A girl in my Spanish Class.
Me: Is she cute?
Ringo, trying to ignore me: No.
Me: Too bad. She signed with a heart...
Ringo, slightly exasperated as he gets whenever I allude to girls: MOM. You can't go by that. LOOK. I'll show you. So she wrote '*heart* Allison', but look over here, Mary wrote '*heart* YOU, Mary' and David wrote, '*heart* YOU!, David', ... and... Nick wrote 'I *heart* pie'. So you see? It's nuthin'...
Heh. I love teasing him about girls.
This occurred to me this morning, a particularly bad morning, of which I refuse to go into:
This notion that we humans have that we are more evolved or of a higher order than those mammals that eat their young... I think someone got it all wrong. I think those that eat their young may be on a higher evolutionary scale.
Sayings Around Town
I don't know how it is in your homes, but around here, little sayings pop up that get thrown out constantly. We laugh typically when it's said.
Our newest saying is in reference to Ringo, "I struggle".
Last week he was trying to get something done and it just wasn't working, his being the one armed bandit and all. He was frustrated and finally he said, "Mom, can you help me? *big pause* I struggle..." And it just seemed so dang funny that now whenever he's trying to do something one armed, one of us will look over at him and say, "I struggle", to which he usually grins and says, "I DO!!! I STRUGGLE!".
But really... in life... who doesn't? I think that may be my new personal mantra:
Art Teachers Can't Teach Math
Bones got into the car today and this conversation transpired:
Me: Did you ask your explorer wheel teacher what the deal is with those asterisks for missing work? (Sidenote: Explorer Wheel is a 1 semester class they take exploring ALL the arts. Bones' class is taught by this great male teacher, who is also a crazy artist type... WAAAAAY out in left field.)
Bones: Yeah. He said not to worry. There aren't any F's in his class.
SWEET! Love that. Seriously. Love it. I think we're all about the art exploration and the 'feel good'. I'm cool. I'm just glad he's teaching art and not the 3 R's. (Sidenote: I emailed him anyway.)
Hoarding... It's NOT Just for Home
No sh**, this happened today.
We were driving down a major boulevard when I looked over past Ringo, who was riding shotgun, and into the small car next to me.
Me: OOOOOH MYYYYY (said with a shrill) GAAWWDDD! Look at that. Look! look!
Ringo: Holy crap!
And next to us was a little car, Honda Civic size, four door, and... there was paper piled all... over. The backseat, full to the windows and an intertube on top, all over the seat, the places you put your feet... all the way to the side windows, the shotgun seat... paper... all the way to the window, paper on the DASHBOARD! There WAS PAPER ON THE DASH, about 2 inches thick. Paper paper every where and not a sheet to toss.
There was just this little space she had carved out for herself to sit and drive.
Me: OMG. I have to call Aunt Mo. This is insane...she's a...
Ringo: Mom, they're called Hoarders!
Me: She's a hoarder in her car!
Ringo: They have a TV show about hoarders.
Me: And their cars?
Ringo: That's nuts.
Play Me a Song Mandolin Man
My Mom got TGOO a mandolin for his birthday. He opened it up and we were all really excited for him, but none more than Ringo who immediately declared, "I don't want to touch it, because then I'm going to want one..."
As it is, he can hardly keep his hands off TGOO's or my Aunt's dulcimers.
But as the night progressed, the lure of The Mandolin was too much... and we found him struggling to wrap his casted arm around it, trying to figure out the fingering, and wondering to himself, "Hmmm... Should I ask for a Mandolin for Christmas?"
No, he's not getting a mandolin, but it was funny watching the wheels turn. And it's cool to see him enjoy music so much. Everyone needs an emotional outlet.
Music is his.
I'm in Pensacola with my family, having surprised TGOO for his birthday today... the Big 7-0!
I was on my way to work on Wednesday when my sister, Mo, called and said, "Dad's birthday is in four days. What are you doing for it?"
My reply was along the lines of "F***" and "Already?" Is it really September? Really?
We were scrambling through what to do, my being caught off guard that it was here. The calendar dates are whizzing by. My kids are getting bigger, closer to leaving home, and with that comes all the adults getting older too. Dammit.
I got into work and was telling my girlfriend about how I'd completely blown that 4 September was JUST AROUND the corner and now I had to scramble to find someone who would deliver something overnight when she said to me, "It's Labor Day weekend. Why don't you just... drive up?"
To which I replied, "Hunh. You're right!"
So I quickly got on the phone with my husband and said, "Hey, you want to drive up to Pensacola for the weekend to surprise my Dad for his birthday?"
And he said, "Sure!"
And I called my Mom to see if they had plans and she said, "Come on up!"
And so Friday we packed up the car, picked up the kids after school and made the 9 hour trek North West to the panhandle. Seriously, my husband is a great guy. How many people do you know that say, "Sure, I'll make a one way 9 hour trip for a 2 day stay to be at my in-laws?" Except, he doesn't really view them as inlaws. They're his second set of parents.
He was completely surprised! A birthday he said he wanted to keep as a non-event, a fly under the radar kind of day, has turned into a full celebration with the boys. Said one of them to me on Thursday, "We've never been there to celebrate Big's birthday before!" ('Big' is his nickname as they call him Big Daddy.)
Additionally, Mo and Flam had a trip planned that was canceled and they showed up today, surprising all of us!
So although TN wasn't able to make it from California, Big has all his grandkids here.
Happy 70th Birthday, Dad. We love you!
At one point in time, according to the news that was on TV when I walked into the room a couple nights ago, Hurricane Earl was going to slam into NYC, "The highest Populated City in the United States" and kill everyone.
I think that is the general gist of what I heard.
It's why I hate the news...
Evidently their mothers never told them stories about Chicken Little and Crying Wolf.
Things have been kind of crazy here, in a good way mostly, with school and such.
Bones likes his new school. He told me last week that the only kids he had met that wouldn't talk to him were the 'big black 8th grade girls' and the bass section of the Choir. As of this week, he cares not what the boys in the bass section think, but he has made progress with the black girls who now call him, "Little Dude" or as he says, "You know in that ghetto way they talk? Lil' dude..."
Mr. T continues to enjoy school having made the flag football team as a wide receiver. He tried out so he'd have someone to play catch with. The kid would spend hours and hours playing catch if he had someone to throw with. It's like having a Golden Retriever as a son. He's enjoying it.
Ringo is sporting his permanent cast now, choosing... purple. A bright purple it is to which I replied upon seeing it, "that might keep you up at night with the glow" and "Dang, you're going all metrosexual on me..." You can tell where the girls have signed as they put little hearts near their names. I asked if I could sign it and he said 'NO.'
He is getting some facial hair, very little. I noticed a bit of a rash yesterday on the side of his face where whiskers should be coming in shortly. This conversation took place:
Me: You have a little hurricane there... (touching a cowlick located right under his 'sideburn')
Me: You'll be shaving in the next year.
Me: When you shave, I want you to grow lambchops! GREAT BIG Monster lambchops!
Me: YES! They'll grow in nice and thick. Your dad has a thick beard. Big thick lambchops.
Ringo: I DON'T want LAMBCHOPS! Why would you say that?
Me: Because... I CAN'T grow them! I'm living vicariously through YOU!
Ringo, staring at me like I'm insane: Right.
Me: I'll come up with some great stuff for you to grow. It'll only take a couple weeks each time...
Dang. I don't think he's game.
As I perused some blogs today, I found THIS really funny post at Eric's. Well, I thought it was funny. My favorite line is: Besides, they'd all been drinking..."
Anyway, half way through, this movie clip ran through my head. Enjoy. You know what they say, "Family, you can't live with them and you just can't
kill them with an axe shoot 'em.
And for my sister and brother... our favorite: