Plagiarism: a play in one act.
The Husband: (reading a newspaper.) It looks like they are opening a new 24 hour seafood restaurant downtown. It is called Cod-all-Nighty.
Hey You: That sounds yummy, when does it open?
The Husband: Tonight, and to celebrate the fact that they serve fish from all over the world they are giving the first 100 customers a free atlas
Hey You: Awesome! That would be really cool to have once The Son starts school, by then books may be a thing of the past and kids depend solely on Google Maps for geography.
The Huckablogs head to the new seafood restaurant for an early dinner.
Hey You: Hi, table for three please, oh and are we in time for the free atlas?
Hostess: Sorry, they are all gone
The Husband: Oh well, can we go get steak instead?
Hostess: Wait, we do have one left.
Hey You: Awesome. Free Atlas, Free Atlas, Thank Cod-All-Nightie our free atlas!
Just in case you did not get it.
This was completely stolen from one of my favorite comic strips, you know how I feel about puns.
Filed under Boy is my face red, NaBloPoMo, stupidity | Comment (1)
Happy ohmygoshiamsosorryitislate Birthday FFiL!
Oh, snap! Can we all pretend it is Thursday? Please? It seems since we spent the day on Sunday celebrating FFiL’s birthday….we kinda spaced on the real thing. Sorry about that. Sorry about posting this picture on the internet too, but how could I not?
So why do I call him FFiL? Well, Father-in-Law, of course, but the extra little F? It stands for fabulous, feisty, friendly, fantastic, fascinating, fearless, fortunate, functional, funny, faithful, flexible, fair-minded, fruitful, fun, familiar, forgiving (to children who forget to call him on his birthday), and of course fifty-three.
Love you, The younger (not that you are old) Huckablogs.
Filed under Boy is my face red, Family-blame the DNA, NaBloPoMo | Comments (3)I can’t help it. They are in my blood.
Are there some smells which make your heart ache? Or sing? Like the fragrance of a new baby’s head, it is so sweet and soft and just makes your ovaries ache even if you are pretty sure you are done having kids. Or like the mixed scent of evergreen, woodsmoke, and cinnamon which reminds me of hanging Christmas ornaments with my little brother. Here is the familiar fragrance I smelled today. Leather, sweet hay, grain, dust, and horse manure. Oh, it makes me want to throw responsibilities to the wind and spend all afternoon riding through fields of tall grass. These aromas are hovering over every good memory of my ‘tween and early teen years. I know you all think of me as set firmly in my suburban ways, and I am — but at heart…..I might just be a little bit of a country girl. I love horses, I love everything about them, including this wonderful smell.
This morning The Son and I went to a horse ranch with his Friday morning playgroup. We were both really looking forward to it, but as soon as we stepped in the stable, and that aromal, that glorious earthy smell hit me, I was very nearly in tears as those memories came rushing back. I had my very first horse back riding lesson for my eleventh birthday. I was horse crazy, had read all the equine books I could, taken off the New Kids posters in my room and replaced them with horse posters. My parents are from the original horse country, Lexington, Kentucky. My maternal grandfather, Pa, worked on a thoroughbred (race horse) farm for decades.
The summer after that first cold January riding lesson, I went to visit Ma and Pa for a couple of weeks. At the farm there was a 10 year old, thoroughbred/quarter horse mix gelding. Pa called him All Flash with no Cash, Flash was pretty worthless compared to some of the fastest race horses in the world. He was anything but worthless to me. Those two weeks all I did was sleep, eat, and ride Flash.
First time on “Flash”
A month later, Pa called and said Flash’s owner said I could have him. I had my very own horse! I renamed him Granddaddy’s Prize (G.P). For the next four years, I fed, watered and groomed. I cleaned more stalls than you could imagine. I rode him, I talked to him, I braided his main and tail, I loved that horse. I did some showing with him, but more than anything he was just a member of our family.
What would I not do for that figure back?
He was given to be used as a therapy horse for kids with disabilities when we moved to a state where we just could not keep him.
Today I learned horseback riding is like riding a bike, you just don’t forget, although my muscles may have. (ouch!) I also learned The Son loves horses. He talked about riding a “Horsey” all week long, and cried when I pulled him from the saddle. (unlike many of the kids around us who cried getting on). I am thinking in a few years, we may need to ditch the gymnastics lessons for horseback riding. If for no other reason then so I can go smell the stables.
The kids waiting their turn.
“Let me at the Horsey Mama.”
Giddy up.
Whew, being an equestrian is hard work.
Arbor Day(ish)
I have no idea when Arbor Day is. I am starting to think different towns celebrate it on different days. Our town had a little celebration at our favorite park on Saturday. It had all the makings of a great morning. It was free. There were balloons. There were bounce houses. There were tree adoptions, but best of all there was an impromptu play date.
These balloons are tied on to the tree I got for FREE just because the kids were playing long after everyone else left. This was the left over. I took it because it was FREE, but had no idea what I was going to do with it. Something possessed me to offer it to Nanny, The Husband’s maternal grandmother. Nanny lost her husband in December and when I offered the tree her eyes welled up with tears and she said, ” I am going to plant it on James’ grave.” I am so glad it has found a good home.
The Son loves bounce houses. He will spend hours on one, jumping, jumping, jumping. I am fine with this because a bounce house always insures a good nap.
This is R. She is the daughter of one of my LLL friends J. I run into J and her kids all the time; I think it is because we have the same ideas on how to spend our time. Free is good. Trees are good. Hey You and J will both be there.
J has gorgeous children. Tonight, at LLL, J told me that R has “sassatude.” Maybe, but she sure is a cool kid to be around.
It could be because she has such a cool mom. J will be having gorgeous child number three any time now.
It was a nice morning.
The boys shed their shirts and played on a huge old tree stump, they had more fun there than on the bounce house.
It does look pretty cool.
It was full of compost because the stump had started to decay.
This is J’s second born G. This was his second birthday. J and I started at LLL at the same time when these boys were 4 and 2 months old. Sigh.
They are growing up too fast! But isn’t this child just spectacular? He is sweet too.
I hope you enjoy pictures because this whole expecting words from me everyday is darn hard! Sometimes I just have nothing to say. I know, I didn’t believe it either.
Filed under Breastfeeding, Friends-All three of them, NaBloPoMo, Photography | Comments (11)And this little piggy went to the ER!
These pictures, taken months ago, have absolutely nothing to do with this post except to show how cute this kid is. It is a good thing too, or else I might have sold him to the gypsies by now.
Sometimes The Husband has to wear a hard hat when working on huge computer systems in new construction. Here is The Son in his daddy’s hat.
The Husband has been giving pennies to The Son to put in his piggy bank. When I help him do this, I always say “Let’s feed the piggy! Oink-Oink! ”
Yesterday, I was following exit polls online while The Son played in the living room. I heard him say, “Oink, Oink! I a piggy. I a piggy Mama!”
“Aww, that is nice darlin. Can you be a cow now? Mooo. Wait! What is in your mouth?”
“Oink, I a piggy Mama!”
“NO! We do NOT eat money. Spit it out right now! No more pennies for the piggy bank if you try to eat them all.”
“WAAAA! I be a piggy! Money back! Mama, money back, I a piggy. WAAAA!”
Just for the record, two might be a little bit kicking my butt.
Filed under Boy is my face red, NaBloPoMo, The Son | Comments (9)Just in case you were wondering who we voted for.
Updated 10:34 pm: There are a lot of things that make a person tacky. One of the worst? Being a sore loser. You have not heard me say I would move to Canada if Obama won, you have not heard me say our country is doomed. Did my guy win? No, but my country has not lost. I have faith in the checks and balances our forefathers had the insight to put into place. I have faith this is, and will remain the country I am proud to call my own. Congratulations to my Democratic friends, and family (that would be you, JHJ, you are the only one). My prayers have been for God’s will in our nation, and I have to believe He will use the changes that are happening for his purposes.
a close up of my shirt…..
Miss Pollywog S. Huckablog
Alternate title: OCD, The Pet edition.
Are your pets members of your family, like you consider them in everything you do or they are equal to your sibling or child in your mind? Or, are they animals whom you love and enjoy, but not even close to the human members of your family? I am one of the latter. I have always loved my pets, I would never do anything cruel to them, I take good care of them. I would never get rid of one just because I was sick of it, or it became inconvenient. We will teach The Son to be a kind and responsible pet owner. But they are not people. God created us to rule over them and use them. I did use to have this one dog though…that I may have felt a little bit like she was my baby. My furry, stinky, cranky, silly baby. Her name was Polly.
I had wanted a Yorkshire Terrier (Yorkie) since I was a teenager. I grew up in a family that had no use for little lap dogs, so there was no way they were going to let me have one. As soon as I moved out of college property, I wanted a little dog. The Husband and I were already engaged, when we adopted Katydid, we had no idea what she was and were told she would probably weigh about 15 pounds full grown (she weighs 33, and is NOT fat). We loved Katy, still do most of the time, but she was not the little purse dog I really wanted. I begged The Husband to let me buy a Yorkie, but he was fervently opposed to buying dogs when there are so many shelter dogs who need good homes. In my heart I knew he was right, but I still coveted those little dogs people toted around all over town.
At some point, my mom mentioned my Yorkie lust to a family friend who was on the board of our hometown Humane Society. Below is the real email exchange with my mom that followed, starting 1/8/04:
“There is a homeless 10-year old Yorkie, named Samantha, available for adoption in Hometown. Owner broke her hip and is in a nursing home. She is sweet natured and in good health except being overweight. We had to pay $70 dollars for Maggie, but if Samantha has already been spayed it may be less. They are actively looking for an adoptive home while she is being fostered. Yorkies usually live to nearly 20 years of age, love, Mom”
“Will you PLEASE go get her for me? PLEASE! love, your most favorite daughter.”
“I received a call from —-, a volunteer with the humane society who decides on suitable homes for the dogs. She said she pet sat Samantha this weekend and she is really attention starved. When she wasn’t in her lap she followed her around and watching her. Therefore, she really doesn’t think a home where both people work is the most suitable environment for the dog. However, she said she would be pleased to meet with you, (the Husband) and Katy and further consider it. I don’t think she feels strongly enough you’d be the best fit to come to you, you all will have to come to her first and meet before she’ll come inspect the house. Her cell number is — Good Luck, Mom”
“ohmygosh! This lady is SOOO rude!! She is the Contact Person for the humane society! Do you think that maybe poisonous fumes got to her head yesterday? Anyway, I talked her into giving our number to the foster parents, and we might get to see her (Sammie) tomorrow evening. If not, we will go to the adoption thing on Saturday. Will you ask (family friend) where it is and what time it starts. Also, what is the cost? Thanks for your help. Either way…lunch or dinner this weekend? Love, Hey You”
“Yeah! We get to meet Sammie at 6pm tonight! Dinner afterwards? –Love–HYH”
“Are you going to their house or are they coming to ours? Don’t get your hopes too high. And I suggest you not say anything to the fosters about the woman’s attitude as they might be close. Oh! I found out that (Humane Society lady) is a computer support person at –. Thank goodness she doesn’t deal with people in her job. But, how did she ever get picked to place dogs with families? Love ya bunches, Mom”
“We are going there, then to drop off boxes with Cat and then to your house. My hopes aren’t too high, but the foster seemed really nice, and we had a very nice conversation. I DO work with the public and know not to bad mouth people–everyone is related around here! Do not worry about me! We would love to eat anything except chicken. Being poor sucks! Hubby has an interview tomorrow. Anyway—Love You, HYH”
“Just heard there are two more people interested in dog. Good Luck!–Mom”
“I already knew about the two other people, stop being so pessimistic, here is a picture of her from their website.
We are coming to see Sammie tonight, see you afterwards to celebrate my birthday! -Love ya, HYH”
So we went over to the foster lady’s house, and the head of adoption for The Humane Society was there. When we walked in the door the dog ran straight to me, and refused to get down. I explained it was my birthday, The Husband charmed the lady in charge, and we left that night with the dog. She had three teeth, none of them matching up for chewing purposes. Her tongue could not stay in her mouth because she had so much bone loss in her jaw. She weighed 12 pounds, which is way fat for a Yorkie. She had eczema so bad they shaved every bit of her except her head, which they did not trim at all. It was January so, she had to wear a sweater to go outside. She had cataracts and would walk into table legs. Her previous owners pretty much only fed her french fries and she would have an apocalyptic fit when she saw/smelled us eating them. Katydid did seemed to like her though.
The name Samantha did not fit her at all. I tried just calling her Sammie, but that did not fit either. We almost renamed her Aunt PittyPat after the character from Gone with the Wind, she moved like her, was old and fat like her, and was just silly like her (my dad could not even look at her without bursting out laughing), but The Husband vetoed that name. We finally settled on Pollywog to go with our Katydid.
Her eyes just kept getting worse but she got around well, asked to go out to the bathroom and ate. We worked on getting her weight down and had her remaining teeth pulled because they were rotted. Once she stopped eating McDonald’s everyday her eczema went away completely.
She had to get a bath weekly because the hair around her mouth would get in her soft diet food, and then mat up and stink. After her bath, I would put down a towel on the floor and she would roll around on it until she was dry.
I really loved that dog. I carried her everywhere, and dressed her up all the time. She really seemed to like it and tolerated anything I put on her well.
I even made her some dresses for summer when it was too hot for her usual sweaters. (I know, I know how sad that sounds. I already told you that I needed a baby.)
So we got Polly on my 24th birthday January of 2004. Polly got sick on December 10, 2005. I rushed her to the vet, was told she had massive organ failure and was dying. I was going to have her put to sleep, but The Husband asked me to bring her home so he could say good-bye and we could bury her in our yard. She died around midnight of December 11. We were very sad, shed many tears…but were, in a way, very relieved. You see, we had been trying for several months to get pregnant and Polly hated children. HATED them, she would snap and growl and was just generally not a good dog to have around babies. We would probably have had to give her away when we had a baby old enough to become mobile, or at least keep them in separate rooms at all times. (the following goes in the way tmi file), It turns out The Son was conceived the day before Polly got sick. We kept her stocking up that year and have her picture hanging with other family pictures in the hall. She was a good dog but she did not make our family complete and as much as I thought she was my baby, she could never compete with the real thing.
I encourage you to keep an eye out for the pet of your dreams at your local animal shelters. If you only like a certain breed or size, then you may have to wait a little while, but the perfect pet will come through the shelter eventually and it will need a good home. It will love you more and you will not be supporting an often cruel and wasteful industry.
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, NaBloPoMo, Photography, Soap box | Comments (7)