Blame him.
See this guy? He is kinda cute isn’t he. This is sort of a goobery picture of him and he is still adorable. 
Well, this guy is really tired. He drove all the way to Alma Mater and back, he slept with a two year old for two nights, he has been a trooper all weekend doing exactly what Shoeshe and I have wanted to do. But now he is grumpy. He asked me to throw up a cheater post just for NaBloPoMo real quick, and then to come chill with him. And that is what I am doing. Details about our awesome weekend later.
They stopped inviting us.
We don’t like sports. It is not just me, The Husband has great disdain for jocks as well. The Neighbors? They like sports, and often have people over to watch “the game”. We never have any idea which game they are talking about. They used to invite us over; not so much anymore though. One time we even had a friend ask us to do something called fantasy football, I thought it involved unicorns. I was wrong. This little jersey of our Alma Mater was a gift from Shoeshe. The Son has only worn it once, and that was to H’s birthday party, which had a sports theme. The Son took a football and pretended it was a car; H thought he was nuts.
I am so glad he has sporty friends because I want him to have the opportunity to be good at athletics. I’m not holding my breath though. The only team I was ever a part of was Model U.N. The Husband won second place at a national computer trouble-shooting competition last year. DNA is not in The Son’s favor athletically speaking. Hopefully The Neighbors will invite The Son over in a few years and teach him the point of the game.
Today we went to a football game, and The Son wore his jersey over his coat. I have no idea how it went because I am writing this in advance so that I can still be part of NaBloPoMo. I assure you that I had no idea what was going on, and that The Husband spent the whole time playing Tetras on his cell phone. The Son probably has popcorn stuck in his teeth again. Shoeshe most likely laughed at our ignorance, but we had fun anyway. I hope.
He does look kinda cute in his sporty shirt though doesn’t he?
Filed under Boy is my face red, NaBloPoMo, Photography, The Son | Comments (5)The Great Goldfish Debacle of Aught Eight
The thing is Internet, sometimes a girl has to pee. When your husband is at work and the Elmo DVD is on duty, and your child has a full sippy cup, a banana, and some cereal, you may think it is safe to go to the bathroom. My mistake was I got cocky and brushed my teeth. When I came back up front, this is what I found.
When I asked what he was doing, he responded, “I need snack snack Mama.” That huge carton of Goldfish? Was in the kitchen, in the cabinet, and closed.
When he knew he was in trouble he grabbed as many as he could and shoved them in his mouth.
When I said it was time to clean up his mess….he started shoving the Goldfish on the floor.
It was not really what I had in mind.
We grabbed the brooms, and started sweeping. This was not well thought out obviously. The broom just made the Goldfish fly across the room.
The broom also helped grind the poor little guys into the chair. Thank the Lord for slipcovers.
We went for the vacuums next which helped to grind the Goldfish into a fine dust.
Oh the horror! Will Peta be harassing me now?
Cleaning was supposed to be a consequence. It turned into a game. Maybe if I had of put down the camera it would have had more of an impact.
The plus side? Ellie-Mae is putting on weight nicely while living with a toddler.
I ended up just moving us to his room and cleaned it up during naptime. Today I found a Goldfish in my shoe.
Filed under Boy is my face red, NaBloPoMo, Parenting for Dummies, Photography, The Son | Comments (2)Psst. The girl is Shoeshe. Don’t tell anyone, its a secret.
You know, I might think twice about posting these next couple of anecdotes, if it were not for the fact that just yesterday Shoeshe posted about how funny it was when her mother’s hair caught fire…so obviously a little embarrassment will not matter, right?
When I was in college there was this girl in several of my political science classes. I am not quiet sure why she was in those classes, because I think she was an accounting major at the time. I could be wrong about that as her major changed every semester. Anyway, this girl and I were friends and were both in a class that was also a club called Model UN (MUN).
There were only two three kinds of people in Model UN. There were frat guys or their female counterparts who were in MUN just because they thought it would be an easy A, and would look good on their law school applications. They often came to competitions so hung over that they could not hold their heads up after binge drinking in the hotel room the night before.
There were also the uber MUN geeks who really honestly thought the resolutions they wrote and debated over would have something to do with achieving world peace. They would go on zero sleep for the entire four day competitions and break down in tears on the last day when the delegate from China was being an ass in the made up security council. This usually wound up in some sort of model nuclear warfare.
Then there was this girl and me. I was in MUN because I liked the subject. I thought it was fun, liked to debate, but felt too conservative for debate club. I enjoyed world politics, but given the choice between CSPAN and The Simpsons…The Simpsons would always win. I would drink a wine cooler or two, but have never been interested in the drink until you black out scene, and was far from a sorority girl, so I did not really fit in with either of the groups I mentioned.
I am pretty sure this girl came to MUN for the easy grade. Either that or she was stalking me. She was really quite good, but would always crack a joke or come up with some outlandish story if the debate became intense. What she excelled at was writing articles for the imaginary newspaper to cover the made up events at these MUN conventions. Good Lord, that sounds so nerdy I have to stop and go kiss my husband for ever talking to me in the first place. Okay I am back. So this girl would fall off the bed if she had half a Zima and she would be out for the remainder of the night. Her laid back attitude made the uber geeks not like her…but I did.
I would debate my little heart out for an hour or so, and then announce to the room I had to go caucus with some dignitaries. Then I would sneak out to meet the girl and we would go shopping. These MUN conferences were always held in huge cities, and so the shopping was always great. Sometimes I would say I had to go to my room to rewrite a resolution, and would hail a cab and go to an art museum with the girl instead. She was supposed to be roaming around looking for stories so no one bothered to wonder where she went. The thing is even though we usually wound up blowing off half the competition, we always came home with awards because we were good! I could make a senior law student cry with my stories about the refugees I ALWAYS pulled out in my debates to get my way. She could write a story that actually made all of this drivel seem interesting, and do it in half an hour. Some of my favorite memories of college include these Model UN conferences and this girl. So since it is her birthday, I think I will share a couple.
We always drove to St. Louis for an important conference that would last four days in a huge eighteen passenger van emblazoned with our mildly racist school mascot. She always way, way over packed and this trip was no exception. While we were still in the school parking lot, our favorite professor, also the MUN coach, made her lose a suitcase because there wasn’t enough room. I helped her in the freezing predawn try to jam three weeks worth of lingerie and socks into another of her bags so she could leave one behind. The suitcase was put on top of the heap in the van and we were on our way. When we arrived in St. Louis, all the students piled out, and came around back of the van to help the professor unload the luggage. The big double doors opened and the girl’s bag was the first one out. As our professor pulled on the handle of the bulging bag, the zipper broke and a shower of her bras, panties, and socks rained down on top of our sixtyish male professor. There, in front of a very elegant hotel, on a very busy street, with not only students from our school, but from many other schools as well, she had to assist in dislodging her bra from his tweed jacket. His face, and hers, were as fuschia as the pair of panties resting on his wingtips. I laughed. She learned how to pack lighter.
Same conference, same hotel, different year. I was not in charge of room assignments, and she and I were put in separate hotel rooms with other roomates. I had to share a room with a chain smoking, anorexic, often drunk yankee, and her room assignment was with a forty year old college freshman who only bathed in patchouli and had a tattoo of rope and feathers around her waist which she liked to show us. We tried to talk them into rooming with each other but they each thought the other was a freak. They were both right. So the girl was reeking of the patchouli fumes of her roommate, and running late (as usual). She was just jumping in the shower as patchouli lady was leaving, so when she finished her shower, she wrapped her towel around her hair and pranced out to get in her suit appropriate for today. The hippie had kindly opened the curtains to let in the light of the conference which their room over looked. Some MUN nerdy freshman stopped and looked up at her window for what was surely their first look at breasts, and waved. My friend? Waved back before she realized that she was naked and putting on a show more suitable for New Orleans than St. Louis. Once realizing what she was doing, she dropped to the floor and crawled to find a robe so she could draw the curtains. We did not see much of her that conference, I think she may have been a little embarrassed or something.
Happy Birthday to the girl whom I have enough stories about to keep this blog going for years.
Filed under Friends-All three of them, NaBloPoMo | Comment (1)Overheard in the Huckablazer.
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, boring grown up stuff, blah, blah.”
“Mama! Daddy! Mama! Daddy! iisen to me!”
“Okay, we are listening Son, what’s up?”
Puts hand over his heart, “I pwedge agence flag under God, invisible Spagetthi-O’s. Amen.” Grins and applauds himself.
“Did he just say the pledge to invisible spagetthi-o’s?”
“Erm. Yeah, I think so.”
“I am not sure if I am proud our two year old knows the concept of pledging allegiance to something, or if I am concerned he is doing it to such a fascist like Chef Boyardee.”
“You think Chef Boyardee was a fascist?”
“Totally. I think he was Mussolini’s personal chef.”
“Huh. Why do you think the spaghetti-O’s were invisible?”
“I think he meant invincible.”
“Oh, well that totally makes sense. Even Tums can’t touch those things.”
Filed under Boy is my face red, NaBloPoMo, The Husband, The Son, stupidity | Comments (7)Hi. I am Ellie-Mae Huckadog. Or so they tell me.
Hi. These new people I have been staying with have been calling me Ellie-Mae so I am pretty sure that is my name.
We have met before, but you may not recognize me. I used to look more like this.
This new family took me and had all of my tangled and dirty fur cut off. At first I was a little cold, but now I feel so much cleaner and lighter and prettier. Just all around better.
They also took me to the vet. I have a few things wrong with me. That vet guy said I had one of the worst cases of ear mites he had ever seen. The new lady asked three times if people could get those. I think she may be a bit of a hypochondriac.
I also had a nasty respiratory infection and ear infection that was caused from being in a crate too much, but I am taking some medicine and feel much better all ready. That new man says that antibiotics are a family affair this week. I have no idea what that means.
What I do know is that they are really nice to me here. The boy plays with me, and the bigger dog, Katydid is her name, played with me a little bit before they sent her away because of my ear mites. I have been quarantined from other animals you see. The ear mites will be all gone by tomorrow night and then Katydid can come home. I plan on bonding with her then.
Um, can we talk about my new hair? I am not sure I like it. Especially the bow. The lady seems to really like it though. I think that maybe I remind her of someone else, because she keeps saying, “Come here Polly, I mean Ellie.” At least I think that is what she is saying, my ears have been full of bugs and infection so who knows.
I totally love my new collar. That lady’s mom called it Burberry, but then the lady said that Burberry usually costs more than $3.99. They also have lots of soft and cozy beds for me here. I like to dig in this one to make it comfy.
But this is my favorite one. It is the big family nest where we all sleep at night. The lady said that she could not bear to put me back in the crate and I am A-OK with that. Although I heard something about a spider that squicked me out a little.
Some people were wondering how big I am so the lady tried to get some “perspective” by taking pictures of me next to things. Here I am with the boy’s shoe. I said that would not work because the boy could have really big feet.
Here I am next to something everybody recognizes. See? I am pretty little. I am as tall as I am going to get.
But, I am actually much too under weight. That vet guy said I was maln, malnur, malsomething. It means hungry. I have already gained a half a pound since I got here.
Sometimes I feel a little sad. I liked the kids where I came from, and I worry about the other animals that are still there.
But I really like this new family, and I think it is going to work out well. The man says he has to get better to see if he is allergic to me, and then they will make a final decision, but I think he is going to be fine. All in all, I think I am pretty lucky. And that makes me very happy.
See ya later. Love, Ellie-Mae Huckadog.
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, NaBloPoMo, Photography, Soap box, lexapro lexplains it | Comments (17)Hmm. Nope, still have no idea what that thing is.
Before Dr. Ang hops through my computer screen to lecture me….on Saturday evening I started running a fever, had a throat full of glass shards, and body pains a plenty. Knowing that Strep is highly contagious and that I was sleeping next to typhoid Larry, not to mention our toothbrushes cohabiting in the bathroom, I was was pretty darn sure that I had been contaminated. I took The Husband’s antibiotic knowing that I could call the doctor on Monday morning to get my own prescription. I would then take the pills out of my bottle to put in The Husband’s so that we both got our full doses and prevent becoming the Motel 8 for superbugs. Things I was not expecting that put a wrench in this plan? Mystery lump and apparently since my darling husband outweighs me by sixty pounds, his dosage is just a tad higher than mine…by about 500mg a day.
The people at the openallthetimeandmayletyoudieinthewaitingroom medical center said I was not allergic to penicillin but agreed with Dr. Ang that it was a stupid thing to do. Mystery Lump? Slap some hydrocortisone cream on it and let’s see what happens. Now I know. A Masters in International Politics does not in anyway equip me to diagnose myself (although I was right about the strep throat). What happened to the Mystery Lump you may ask? (Or maybe not, you may find the inane drivelings of an OCD hypochondriac a tad boring. Sorry about that. Go see what those LOL cats are up to.) The lump got worse.
After a night tossing and turning and itching and hurting and throwing various toddlers and dogs off of my stomach, I went to my actual doctor this morning. She? Was not sure what mystery lump was either. After some poking and hmmming and getting her partner to look at it, they have it narrowed down to either cellulitis, or a brown recluse bite. A spider bite. THAT I GOT IN MY BED WHILE SLEEPING OMFG! I got an amped form of antibiotics and some steroid cream that should fix both of those things.
Did I mention that we have not had health insurance since March first? And that our new policy kicked in on Saturday? So all these doctors I have seen in the last two days? COVERED! Awesome timing there germs, or spider. Whatever.
Filed under NaBloPoMo, lexapro lexplains it | Comments (7)