Cathy in the Wright

This Is Why God Blesses All The Little Children

2010-07-20T06:48:00.000-07:00

Thursday night I was sitting on the side of a soccer field, watching The Governor play. As his team was receiving what can only be called "a thrashing", my attention wandered, and I started talking with another mother who was also trying to focus on something other than the blood bath in front of us. We started discussing soccer and I mentioned that I still played in a couple of leagues.

Her young daughter (perhaps 7?) looked at me and asked, "Are you a teenager or an adult?"

I'm sure I could have sold energy back to the electric company with the wattage coming from my smile.

Wonderful child.

My Lunch with Gary

2010-07-08T08:03:00.000-07:00

I've been staring at a blank "Compose Post" screen for six minutes now...Starting is always the toughest part. No wonder it's so easy to ignore a blog.

I had an interesting lunch date on Tuesday, and I was all set to write about it, but after waiting a day it no longer seems all that absorbing. I'm fairly certain I will need to add the line, "I guess you had to be there" at the end of it all. Oh well. I was reminded recently that this blog will be a wonderful way to record memories, and if I frighten off my last remaining reader...he can only blame himself; it was his suggestion.

There was nothing particularly amusing or dramatic about lunch, it was more of a purely interesting experiment. I had never dined with a blind person before.

A little background: a few years ago I took our family hound up to the local nursing home for pet therapy visits. Hoocher and I made our rounds for nearly three years and then life got busy, Hoocher got old, and I decided to call a halt to it all. I missed the visits, but many of our regulars were starting to pass away and then Hoocher got a tumor and I thought he was next. As it turns out, Hoocher did not pass away. A year or two went by, and this past March, I brought Hoocher back. Only he is simply too old to do it any longer; his hips give out and he's fairly deaf. And he hates baths so much that I felt it was just too unfair to force him into one each week. So Hoocher has officially retired, but I still go up to the Manor once a week to visit with one particular gentleman we met.

Gary is only in his 50's, but due to a medical condition, he cannot live on his own. He lost his vision a few years ago. He probably is more suited to a home of some sort, but he does not relish independence. What he does relish is food, and the understandably institutionalized nature of the Manor's kitchen leaves him with nothing kind to say.

One might suspect that Gary is a bit of a gormet. One might be wrong. This is the same man who informed me that he considered it a high treat (in his seeing days - living with his mother on the family farm) to warm up cocktail weiners with barbeque sauce in the microwave and eat them with Saltines. The odor of hypocrisy lingers in the air.

Many times, our visits turn into a cataloging of what restaurants we like, which we don't, and which ones we wish we could try. After the barbeque weiners story, I wasn't surprised to learn that Gary and his mom ate out fairly frequently.

As a treat for him (and a respite for the long-suffering kitchen staff at the Manor), I took Gary out to lunch at our local pizza parlor.

The most interesting part of the meal was not the actual eating of food, but the logistics of getting Gary from the Manor to the restaurant and then to the table and back again. In addition to being blind, Gary also uses oxygen, so a portable tank went with us on the outing.

The Senator (11) and The Governor (8) came along to assist. They were invaluable help as I was a bit nervous about leaving Gary unattended while I went to get the car or when I left the table to fill his plate at the buffet. The Governor took a great interest in watching Gary. Before we arrived at the Manor he had asked, "But Mom...if he's blind...how does he eat?"

Well, Gov, his mouth works; only his eyes don't.

"But Mom...how does he know where to stick the food?"

Gov, if you close your eyes, do you think you could bring a cookie up to your mouth?

"Ooooh...."

And when we arrived at the Manor and were heading down the hall to fetch Gary:

"Mom - how do you get him through the building?"

He'll walk.

"But I mean, how do you give him directions? Do you say, Go north or Go South?"

Valid question, Gov. I tend to use Left and Right versus North or South.

"Ooooohhhhh."

So while Gary was unaware of it, he was under surveillance the entire time. And not just by The Governor. Everyone in the restaurant was giving us glances. Small town, after all. Thank goodness my children were along for chaperones.

The trip went quite well. I think Gary was so happy to be eating out somewhere, we probably could have taken him to the gas station for pre-packaged sandwiches and he would have considered it a high treat. He did consume an incredible amount of pizza and fried chicken. I hope we didn't do any lasting damage to his internal organs.

I'm sure we'll re-live the adventure next Tuesday when I go for another visit. It would beat listening to the BBQ weiner story again.

Child Protection Services Are On The Way

2010-07-05T07:43:00.000-07:00

This morning I received an email from an old reader - happy to see a few relatively recent posts and encouraging me not to abandon the effort altogether. I told him I felt like a bad parent who remembers, half way through the mall, that my child was still strapped in a car seat in the parking lot. The blog...oh dear.

With the onset of summer vacation, computer time is at an all time low. Not only do soccer, baseball, the lake, and nursing home visits compete for attention, but when we are home, I must compete for keyboard time with members of The Alliance and The Horde. If you don't understand that last bit, you are in good company. I don't either. It is unnerving to listen to The VP and The Governor (now 8!) carry on a discussion about Level 80 Death Knights and whether or not Bloody Breakout is a worthwhile quest and who has enough Emblems of Frost to purchase a new piece of chest armor.

To be fair...they tried to include me. I have my own World of Warcraft character, but I never play. I lost interest after my first quest. Fortunately, at any time I have three family members who are willing to take up my slack and age up Saint Kate to a Level Seven Warrior.

(As I type this, The Governor is reading over my shoulder and said, "Technically, Mom, it's not "the Bloody Breakout," it's just "Bloody Breakout." Thank goodness for my crack editoral staff.)

I hope you all...oh heck...I should probably just adress this to you, W.M., since you are most likely the only one reading it...I hope you had a terrific 4th of July weekend. And thank you for gently prodding me to return to the car and fetch my child.

Explanation

2010-05-18T05:54:00.000-07:00

It didn't take long for this resolution to get thrown under the bus. I don't feel very guilty; I've found a new outlet. Last fall I contacted AnySoldier.com and found a group of guys in Iraq that share my sense of humor and overall immaturity. I send them action figures; they send me PowerPoint presentations of the figures. If I could figure out how to do it, I'd post Jawas Rampage here for you all to enjoy. It is rated R, however. I may have to omit the slide of the Jawas sharing a post-coitus smoke with Amanda Waller.

Saturday I spent nearly the entire morning pasting copies of one soldier's Facebook profile onto the bodies of models in a men's health magazine. I hope he finds it amusing. Cracked me up for hours.

The Governor and I were watching some Nickelodeon or Cartoon Network or something on Sunday, and the network had a little feature on "Top Ten Most Annoying Things Your Parents Say or Do." Number One was "..when they don't act their age." And I thought about how I can spend an hour posing an action figure for a funny photo and came to the conclusion that my kids are doomed. Poor boys.

Literally

2010-05-10T07:31:00.000-07:00

We are temporary landlords to a bunch of pigs.

And yes, we do call them "Bacon" and "Sausage" when we bring them scraps.

Of Course

2010-05-06T18:17:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow night is my first outdoor game of the season. Forecast: rain and cold. Of course.

I'm not sure there exists a greater form of sport than playing soccer in your long johns in freezing rain. I'm willing to allow for the possibility, but my skepticism runs deep.

Need to write

2010-05-05T16:22:00.000-07:00

So...I think that by waiting for more than a year between posts, I've managed to evade any readers. Which is fine, because this is just an exercise. Scratch paper. I have found that I miss writing a lot. Last fall I started sending letters and packages to some soldiers in Iraq. One soldier was kind enough to email back and tell me that my letter was read and re-read; he and his buddies enjoyed it a lot. That made me feel great, because I had a very amusing time writing it. I'm glad they share my sense of humor.

So I miss writing to amuse myself. And others. And I miss having a record of what my family has been doing. I saved copies of all my old blog posts, and it has turned into a journal that helps prod my faulty memory. I won't lose all the funny (and not so funny) stories about how my boys have grown.

To update: The Senator is now 11 and in 5th grade. He's the tallest kid in his grade, and possibly 6th grade as well. This is his first year in the middle school. He's not fond of school. He is fond of hunting and fishing. He may not be able to balance a check book when he graduates high school, but he'll have the envious ability to sit in a deer stand for hours and look for turkeys.

The poor boy also suffers from acne. Already. I haven't seen any of his friends similarly affected. I can only hope that if he did hit puberty early (his voice is changing too), he'll come out of it sooner than his friends. And when his senior year prom rolls around, he'll be the only one with a clear face. Is that evil?

The Governor is now 8 and in second grade. We just finished celebrating his birthday. We rented one of those bouncer/moonwalk inflatable things. Talk about a low-maintenance party. "Go bounce." Sit on the front porch with a soda. Every once in a while yell, "Take 'er easy in there!" Grill hot dogs. Eat cake. Send boys home. I highly recommend it.

We also celebrated with a family dinner at Benihana - the Japanese steak house where the food is cooked right in front of you. We went last year for The Gov's 7th birthday and he loved it. Well, he liked the chicken. And the spatula-flipping chef. And the ice cream. He wouldn't try much else. This year, it was a different story. He ate the soup. He ate shrimp. He ate his father's shrimp. He ate mushrooms. He ate zuchini.

I couldn't believe it was my son. I guess he's growing too.

Old Hoocher (the pet therapy dog) is still here, but he's showing his age. I tried taking him back to the nursing home, after a couple of years off, but we stopped after a couple of weeks. He can't jump up into the car anymore without help. And frankly, he hates baths so much, I just can't do it to him week after week. I think he's earned his retirement. He still loves to go for walks. He eats a lot of table scraps. He rolls in the grass, and chases the deer, although he has completely give up on the rabbits. He's a good dog. A filthy dog, but a good one.

The VP and I are enjoying having older children. We've started leaving them alone for a couple of hours at a time. I'm not sure they realize we only do it when we know their grandparents are home next door, but to them it's the greatest freedom in the world. Not that they do anything differently...but NO PARENTS! A couple of times I've come home from work just a few minutes after them, and it tickles me to watch The Governor's face fall when he sees me. "You're home already?!" That one will have his own apartment the day he turns 18. Unless The Corps has him first.

Well, how's that for a comeback. No promises. I might just wait until 2011 before I post again. But I hope I can make it a habit. I still wish I had my old site; I loved posting pictures on that one. It's just not the same on Blogger. But we'll see.

And just in case...Hi Matt. :)

Off To A Great Start

2009-01-01T11:24:00.000-08:00

The VP and I hosted the annual neighborhood New Year's Eve party last night. I'd say it was a success. The only one who threw up was the dog.

Rolling On The Floor Laughing My Ass Off

2008-11-06T11:11:00.000-08:00

I generally eschew the use of internet/texting shorthand: OMG!....IMHO...WTF?...etc. It doesn't bother me to read it, but I have trouble using it myself because it makes me feel like a sixteen year old girl trying to be snappy. But if anything has ever called for a ROTFLMAO, it is this:

Obama Campaign Workers Angry Over Unpaid Wages

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me get this straight: they got paid...they just didn't get as much as they were told to expect.

I'd advise them to get used to it, but I'm skeptical that they will be motivated to do any sort of work to collect a paycheck after this.

Life Is Still Good

2008-11-04T07:26:00.000-08:00

I just got back from voting. I walked home from our polling station as it is a beautiful fall morning. Sunny and nearly 50 degrees. As I crossed a ravine, the iPod kicked in with the theme to Masterpiece Theater. The sun filtered through the pines and the birch on each side of the road. It was one of those "I wish I could freeze this moment" moments; perhaps to pull it out in a couple of months when the world is cold and bleak. (Whether from the temperature or the political climate...it matters not.)

As one who always tries to find a silver lining in bad situations, I'm still working on seeing the bright side of a McCain loss. I have read some suggestions that four years of Obama will ensure a Republican landslide in 2012. If you think in terms of prison sentences, four years doesn't seem so long, but still...

If you're a liberal, however, I have a silver lining for you should McCain win: Canada still has large swaths of open land and a nationalized health care system.

You're welcome.

Fall Humor

2008-11-03T11:30:00.000-08:00

Someone Loves His Job

2008-09-10T09:54:00.000-07:00

I started laughing aloud in the deoderant aisle at Target yesterday. I was looking at the selection of gels and solids for men because, as posted earlier, my fourth-grader has determined he has surpassed the sweat tolerance threshold and needs it.

I was looking at Old Spice deoderant and saw that available scents include:

Swagger
After Hours
Showtime

I'd love to know how sales are going on those items. Honestly, if you saw Old Spice Swagger in a friend's bathroom, would you ever quit teasing him? Never. You can almost hear the low-budget porn music in the background as you lift the cap. chick a bow bow

If sales dwindle, perhaps they can come out with a woman's line. Might I suggest naming the scent Strut...or maybe Baby's Mama?

Curious

2008-09-09T10:48:00.000-07:00

I wonder if those same houses that police raided right before the RNC...the ones with the buckets of urine...STILL have buckets of urine? (Start with Mitch if you don't know about this.)

After all, those raids were the epitome of freedom-trampling, police state maneuvers, no? Defenders of the urine-hoarders claim that all the items police recovered were things normally found in any home. So an unannounced visit to the grounds should find five gallon pails of pee sporadically stored in various rooms, right? Don't all the best hosts have a white, plastic chamber pot in the guest room?

And I think the guys at Nihilist need to work up a list: Top 11 Reasons Why EVERYONE Should Save Their Urine. Here...I'll start them out:

11. You can kill the rest of the grass that the dog missed and have a uniformly brown lawn.

Oh here

2008-09-07T19:26:00.000-07:00

I found something to post. I can't remember who sent it to me, but I like it.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

2008-09-07T19:08:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm just itching to write something. The boys are all gone. The house is quiet. The dog smells less horrid than yesterday. (He got his tail handed to him by a skunk.) And I can't think of a thing to say.

Live-blogging my life right now would put an entire classroom of ADHD kids to sleep.

Took a sip of rootbeer.
Stared at keyboard.
Stared at monitor.
*
*
*
Repeated steps one through three.

Who was it that emailed me to ask why I haven't been blogging lately? Wes? Naomi? Sorry now, eh?

I Just Can't Quit You

2008-09-06T06:09:00.000-07:00

They Came At Me In Hordes

2008-09-05T05:55:00.000-07:00

The gray hairs.

Tuesday evening The Senator, who just enetered fourth grade, told me, "Mom, I need deoderant."

You do, huh?

"Yep. I get all sweaty at school and I'm going to smell bad."

Did someone tell you that you smelled bad?

"No, but I will. Michael wears it, I think."

Ah. Of course. Peer Pressure Puberty. I told him he could ask his father to show him some manly deoderant and how to apply it.

Wednesday morning: I sent him to the bathroom to brush his teeth. I followed a minute later to put away some clean towels and saw him putting the cap back on the Right Guard. I fled. And then I cried.

And then I remembered that he's now just that much closer to moving out into his own apartment and I will never have to look at his toothpaste spit in the sink again and I felt much better.

The Ultimate Peep Show

2008-03-07T08:46:00.000-08:00

Happy Easter from my friend Dave

What To Do, What To Do

2008-03-03T08:55:00.000-08:00

One of my least favorite parenting decisions: Is my child too sick to go to school?

The Senator was complaining of an upset stomach this morning. Since I grew up in a household where nothing short of a compound fracture or projectile vomiting gave you a Stay Home pass, I tend to view just about all health complaints with a big dose of skepticism. I attacked from all angles:

Are you feverish?

Do you feel like you're going to throw up?

Is there something at school you might be avoiding?

Does it hurt worse than the time you ran into the metal bar on the playground with your face?

Since the answers to all of the above were answered, grudgingly, in the negative...I decided he could chew up a couple of Tums and catch the bus. "Buck up, Senator. If you start to feel worse, the school nurse has my cell phone number."

Now I'm suffering, wondering if I made the right choice. I have been hovering around the phone, waiting for the Call of Shame from the nurse's office. The afternoon bus just can't get here soon enough.

Another Moment For The "Great Parenting" Archives

2008-02-18T08:52:00.000-08:00

The Governor had his Valentine's Day...pardon...his Friendship Party at school last Thursday. Four mothers volunteered to come up with different games or crafts to entertain the little buggers for about an hour. Since we were also invited to bring a snack (because the candy attached to the Valentine's...pardon...Friendship cards might not raise their glucose levels high enough), I decided to combine craft with snack. I bought heart-shaped cookies, frosting, and assorted sprinkles. Assemble and eat.

The kids were divided up into smaller groups, and the teacher had them rotate between each station.

When The Governor made it to my table, he applied the frosting and decorations with gusto. He ate the cookie, drank the little bottle of water, got up out of his seat, staggered backwards, and declared, "I feel like I'm drunk."

When I was finally able to shut my mouth, I had to make the situation worse by hissing, "What did you just say?"

And, of course, he repeated himself even louder. "I FEEL like I'm DRUNK!"

I looked up to see the teacher (a substitute, fortunately. God doesn't completely hate me) staring at us with a grin on his face. "I have no idea what to say," I lamely muttered.

The Gov grinned and staggered on to the next station: Pin the Wing on Cupid.

Since I have yet to receive a call from Child Protection Services, I can only assume the young, recently graduated from college substitute thought The Governor's comments more amusing than serious.

I did have a chat with The Governor on the ride home from school. He couldn't say where he picked up that little gem, but he did promise never to repeat it again. But only after I waxed on about the appeal of boarding schools.

Driving Lessons Start Tomorrow

2008-02-04T08:52:00.001-08:00

Well, my sister has complained that she is tired of looking at Bambi threaded through the BMW engine, so I have a post for you. Big news. A new milestone has been reached here at The Outpost.

The Governor (age 5) swallowed a pill today. Whole.

Friday The VP took The Gov to the doctor to see how much of this "My throat is so sore it's gonna die!" theatrics was genuine. A lot, as it turns out. He was diagnosed with strep. I begged The VP to ask the doctor for pills instead of liquid antibiotics. Our last round with The Governor and medicine resulted in a twenty minute ordeal every dosing time as I would have to mix chocolate syrup with the medicine and feed it to him in smurf-sized spoonfuls. And the medicine didn't taste bad to begin with.

So this time, I was determined to try pills.

The first six doses, I ended up breaking up the pill and hiding the broken shards in pudding. But this morning, I was set on making him try a full pill swallow. He was reluctant at first, so we did a trial run with a mouthful of juice sans pill. Fill mouth, tilt head, pretend to drop the pill in and let it settle to the back of your throat, and then gulp.

I offered him a second trial run, but he declined and went for the real thing. And he got it on the first try. I was prepared for gagging, crying, and possibly having to fish the pill out of a pile of vomit and trying again. But The Gov came through for me.

No more hiding medicines in ice cream and pudding. No more listening to "how much more do I have left?" Five second medicine distribution. I wept.

And such a milestone, small though it may be, brings him one step closer to being an adult. An adult that does not reside under my roof and doesn't wake me at three in the morning with a 103 degree fever and can drive himself to the clinic.

Life is good.

How To Fit A Deer Into A BMW

2008-01-23T08:17:00.001-08:00

Dammit, I Hate It When This Happens..

2008-01-22T11:43:00.001-08:00

Well, here I was all set to ignore the old blog for another month (although I have been enjoying all the comments!) and I get an email from Matthew asking me what happened to Cathy in the Wright.

Apparently, Matthew, I'm going to starve it to death. But thank you for asking.

My sister was asking about my lack of posting, and I suggested to her that we put forth a joint effort. Now that she has finally rejoined the 21st century with an internet connection. She's a former MN state trooper and a mom...so she's got excellent stories to share. We shall see.

In the mean time, thank you all for stopping by to check. And Chris - the temperature today warmed up to -8 degrees when I took the kids to school this morning, so you and your over-worked furnace can [edited for PG content].

Cue The Banjo Music

2008-01-05T08:03:00.000-08:00

My husband bought a shirt the other day. The shirt does not have buttons. It has...snaps.

You will never know how hard it was for me to write that.

Snaps. I can only imagine what wardrobe horrors await me in the near future. I'm sure it will probably include jumpsuits.

There is no way I can let him out of the house wearing that shirt. And he's so damn proud of it, too. To prevent everlasting shame from descending upon the family name, I need to act.

I foresee a horrible accident in which the Maytag singles out and shreds the snap shirt.

New Year's Resolution Shot To Hell In Less Than Two Days

2008-01-03T06:31:00.000-08:00

Well. I was going to suprise you all. 2008! The Year of the Return of the Blog! Every day a post!

On the bright side...the Better Diet and More Exercise resolutions are feeling a lot less pressure to perform.

I hope you all had great holidays. We here at The Outpost capped our festivities with an ear infection, pink eye, and flu for everyone. The end result was Christmas Eve and Christmas Day spent hanging out in our pajamas, raiding the fridge for whatever we could find, and not talking to anyone.

One of the finest holidays on record. Next year, I may take the kids and go hang out in the lobby of our doctor's office and see if we can't have a repeat performance.

I guess I would have to say life is back to fairly normal now. The kids went back to school today. The dog is sleeping at my feet. I'm avoiding stuff I need to do. Right on par.

Oh. Wait. Here's a great story. Last night I let the boys each pick out their own individual-sized pizza for dinner. The Governor went with the fool-proof pepperoni. The Senator branched out and went with sausage and mushroom. Later in the evening, The Senator impressed us all with a lengthy and loud burst of gas. He turned his head back over his shoulder, took a deep sniff, and said, "Mmmmmmm....mushrooms."

There. Now we're back to normal.

Hope you all had a terrific Christmas. Oh...and Chris? It's 14 degrees outside right now with about a 30 mph wind. I hate you.

I Need To Tell Someone

2007-12-14T16:19:00.000-08:00

Since there are only two of you reading this blog...I think I can confess the following and trust that you will both keep it to yourselves:

I like Air Supply's version of Sleigh Ride.

Thank you.

I feel better.

Update: I finally read my comments: Blast! Now there are three of you reading. Guitarman - you also are under strictest orders not to discuss this shameful revelation.

Appropriate For Today...

2007-12-05T08:46:00.000-08:00

From my friend, Dave..

A winter statistic:

98% OF AMERICANS SAY "OH SHIT" BEFORE GOING IN THE DITCH ON A SLIPPERY ROAD.

THE OTHER 2% ARE FROM MINNESOTA AND THEY SAY, "HOLD MY BEER AND WATCH THIS."

A Typical Conversation With The Governor

2007-11-23T14:27:00.001-08:00

Just now...

"Mom, guess if I have the purple stick behind my back or not!"

Okay. Um... You do NOT.

"AH! You're right! Now guess again." He ran out of the room and returned.

Hmm...this time you DO have the stick.

GAH! How did you know?

I know all things.

You LOOKED!

I did not. Are you accusing me of cheating?

He looked down at his feet and then looked at me. "Well, Mom, I was just concerned you might be."

Happy Thanksgiving, Black Friday, etc..

2007-11-23T07:48:00.000-08:00

I hope you and yours had a wonderful day yesterday. Mine was memorable primarily for the fact that a little more than an hour after finishing our meal, The Senator shook me awake and announced, "I'm hungry."

Hungry. And he still had whipped cream on his face from dessert. I guess the ham, potatoes, peas, spinach, pineapple, rolls, rice, and cheesecake were merely a warm-up. I felt the bile rise in my throat as I sat up straight and tried to focus on his face. I was pretty certain I wouldn't need to eat again until Sunday.

I didn't want to leave the couch, but he kept staring at me, just like the dog does when he wants something. So I got up and fixed him another plate of food.

I'm starting to feel ill just thinking of it.

In other memorable happenings, I screwed up the Camp family tradition of putting up the Christmas Tree on Black Friday. I sent The VP down to the cellar to get the artificial tree and the tubs of Christmas decorations. He came back upstairs with the tree box and said, "Is it supposed to be this light?"

Well, I suppose it IS supposed to be that light when there is nothing inside the box. The memory came slamming back: our tree was nine years old. It was in bad shape. It could no longer look forward to any sort of quality of life, so I put it out of its misery and tossed it in the dumpster. For some reason, I saved the box. I do not know why. I'm a tosser, not a saver. Toss now, regret later...that's my motto. Execpt for Christmas fauna, I guess.

The boys were all excited to decorate the tree today, and I feel just awful about letting them down. Not awful enough to brave the parking lots/shoppers at Target to get a new one, mine you. But still awful.

I think I will go console myself with leftover cheesecake.

Touche

2007-11-19T14:39:00.000-08:00

The Governor was acting up today and after two requests to settle down, I looked at him rather sternly and said, "Am I going to have to start snapping your DVD's in half?"

He looked at me as if I had just confessed to drowning kittens and said, "You would do that to your own children?"

I had to walk away before I apologized.

Dear Anonymous

2007-11-19T08:22:00.000-08:00

No, the fingers are not frozen. Just my brain. A shame, really, because there has been a wealth of blogging material as of late. The farmer who piled up the metric ton of chicken manure on our field recently excavated the enormous mound and spread it on the field.

I'm not sure the neighbors will ever forgive us.

Several other good stories involving The Governor and the local PTA are dying to be put forth as well, but unfortunately, I am already late for an appointment.

Good to hear from you. Have a great Thanksgiving!

If I Had A Very Young Daughter, I Would Demand A Pre-arranged Marriage

2007-10-11T09:39:00.000-07:00

I got out of my car in the Target parking lot today and heard a young voice say, "Hey, you know what?" I looked over, and across an open parking space was a mom and three very young children piling out of a mini-van. The oldest child, a boy, appeared to be about four years old. Maybe younger. It was this young lad who tossed the question at me.

What?
Your car is kinda....
Dirty?
Yeah, and your tires look low too.

In twelve more years, this fine young man will be not only filling his mom's car with gas for her, but he'll be checking the oil, changing the air filter, filling the windshield washer fluid, and rotating the tires.

The mom gave me an apologetic look. I felt like giving her my name and number and asking her to let me know when he opens his own service station.

Chicken Shit

2007-10-10T15:41:00.000-07:00

Well, Chris, seeing as how you are the only one who reads this, I feel safe using a foul (ha!) word in the title. If my mother read this, I would no doubt have to substitue "manure" or "feces" or some other milder noun.

Pictured above is the giant mound of chicken manure (I just don't have it in me to be consistently crude) that I told you about in my earlier email. Truckload after truckload arrived one day to create this enormous, stinking pile. I thought once the hot weather had passed the odor would lessen, but as it turns out...a good soaking rain can do wonders to re-ignite the smell too. Thank goodness we live north of this organic pile of fertilizer; I'm sure our neighbors to the south have been omitting us from their prayers.

Hope all is well in AZ. Sorry to hear you were finally able to turn off the air conditioning.

Chris H.

2007-09-30T07:38:00.001-07:00

When you go to enter a comment, does it ask you to choose an identity? If you select "anonymous" you don't need a Google account. Hopefully that option shows up for you. It does on my end. Let me know if you're still having trouble.

I'm Not Sure The Elves Still Make Those...

2007-09-30T07:17:00.000-07:00

The Governor and I were discussing Christmas the other day, and I suggested he start thinking about a wish list for Santa. He started spouting off various caliber rifles he'd like to own. I told him, "No guns." He paused and said

"Okay. I'd like a Sparrow missile."

And just what would you mount it on? Your bike?

"I guess I'll just have to get an F-4 Phantom jet too."

I'm not giving up my garage stall.

Personally Killed By A Close Friend

2007-09-23T08:27:00.000-07:00

Wasting Time

2007-09-15T11:07:00.000-07:00

From Jim. A dead rat he found in his swimming pool. Right now, I should be typing up the minutes from the PTA meeting from a week ago Thursday. But no. I've found something better to do.

Life is Great; Life Sucks

2007-09-15T10:59:00.000-07:00

Well, no. Life is great. Blogger sucks. I miss my old site. It took me ten minutes to figure out how to get into Blogger (via new, required Google account!). I'm still not sure what I'm doing. Right now I'm just typing away to fill space and avoid having to clean up the lunch dishes.

Heh...just playing around with downloading pictures now. Eh. We'll see.

Sorry.

Reduced to Blogger

2007-08-25T11:05:00.000-07:00

As I warned many of you...at the first sign of technical difficulty, my blog would go down. For some reason, the Moveable Type screen I used to log in and post went 404 on me. I am assuming it's because I used the Cro-Magnon version of MT and the people at MT decided to quit supporting it. I don't know. At any rate, I can't get to my blog, and therefore I am have come crawling back to Blogger.

Someone just take me out in back of the shed and put the .22 to my temple.