Tuesday, July 31, 2012


I've managed to gather lots of quotes recently-- and they come from a variety of sources! From nieces and nephews, to sisters and first-cousins-once-removed. And, of course, LM.

1. Mister: (singing to himself) "I'm a bottomy, I'm a bottomy-- I'll toot your face off!"
(I suppose if there ever were such a thing as a bottomy, that's exactly what it would do.)

2. Carmenita: (excitedly eyeing a jar of peaches) "I want peaches!"
Me: (getting ready to dole them out) "Okay-- how much do you want?"
Carmenita: "I want toooooo much!"
(Now that's my kind of girl!)

3. LM: (avoiding my motherly advances) "You can't smooch me until you give me something proper to eat."
(Okay then, would a knuckle sandwich constitute as "proper"?)

4. LM: (approaching a gentleman with his canine) "Can I pet your dog? Hey, kind sir, can I pet your dog?"
(Kind sir.... Works every time.)

5. Hubby: (sleeping-- groaning as he spoke) "Champs-Elysees...Champs-Elysees...."
(If he's speaking French in his sleep, all I gotta say is he better be dreaming about me.)

6. LM: (after hubby had collected and deposited a number of LM's belongings into his tidy room) "Stop putting stuff in my room! I'm tired of having that, that, this, this all over the place-- it's like I'm a hoarder!"

7. T: (said loudly to her husband in public) "Stop dinkering with your dinker!"
(If only people knew she'd been talking about his phone....)

8. Bopper: (upon seeing hubby) "Well, hey there Branting!"
(I waited for her to give him a smack on the rump to complete the male athlete greeting, but she missed that part.)

9. Me: (observing LM and Mister working hard outside) "Good job, boys! You're doing awesome work!"
Mister: "Thanks! You're pretty!"
(I think he felt he needed to answer my compliment with one of his own. Hey, I'll take whatever I can get.)

10. Me: (hearing telling "number two" noises come from the bathroom) "What's going on in there?"
LM: "Something awesome."
(Doesn't smell awesome....)

11. LM: "We only have one rated-R movie, which I'm disgusted about!"
(I'm confused. He's disgusted that we have it, or that we have only one?)

12. LM: (looking for a small Lego piece) "It's like trying to find hay in a needle-stack!"
(Sounds painful. And not that difficult, actually.)

13. Me: (lying next to LM in bed, reading to him) "Hey bud, can you scoot over? You're crushing my shoulder."
LM: (after I'd adjusted to a comfortable position...for me) "Ugh! Now I'm in the same state you were in!"
(A terrible state, that.)

Last, but not least, a little gem I ripped from my cousin's Facebook page. It makes me laugh every time. With her permission:

"As my family and I were sitting at the dining room table eating breakfast this morning, the little one was being delightfully naughty. She continued to dip her fingers in her bowl of maple syrup after I had told her to stop. I looked at her and with a half smile told her that I had brought her into this world and I could taker her out if it. She smiled and said that she would then get to go to God. To which her daddy replied, "But you know what happens to naughty children when they go to Heaven, don't you? You grow a third arm on your back that spanks you over and over for all of eternity." The whole family erupted in hysterical laughter. Thanks, Babe. We'll go ahead and file this day in the "Awesome Parenting" category :-)"

Friday, July 27, 2012

Puss In Loo

She instills fear into the very core of my being. She is Kezzy, my aunt's kitty-cat.

Kezzy likes to hide in wait until I enter the bathroom, at which point she races through the door ahead of me and takes up her post in front of the toilet. The first time she did this I just shoved her aside so I could get down to business. (Fail.) The second time she pulled this trick I'd learned what it means to have kitty-kitty in the bathroom with me, and I reconsidered just how badly I needed to go. Perhaps digging a trough outside and squatting would be in my best interest instead.

See, Kezzy likes to torment you while you're on the pot. Oh, it starts out nice enough. She rubs up against your legs and purrs. You think she's trying to befriend you, albeit in an unconventional way. But this is simply to give you a false sense of security so that you'll loosen up and let your drawers drop a little lower to the floor, thus giving her more fleshy surface area to attack.

She thinks it's quite funny to try and hop up in your lap, and when that fails ('cause there's no freakin' way I'm letting a cat sit in my lap while I'm using the facilities) she likes to use your bare legs as a scratching post. Yeah, I know she's just "playing", but it feels a little less like fun, and more like sadism to me. I mean, how brilliant is this cat? She catches you partially clothed with no way to escape! My only hope is to pee as fast as humanly possible, and to not make any frantic motions with the toilet paper, thus inciting kitty's pounce instinct.

Then, like a psycho lover, she'll nuzzle her head against you like nothing ever happened. But at this point you're toast, because she is about to bite...your...hand.

Love bites. Or should I say, "love bites."

My favorite time was when I thought I'd made it into the bathroom alone, only to discover after I'd shut and locked the door that Kezzy was already in the bathroom. Waiting. Seriously, I might have nightmares.

She may look like this:

But this is what's in her heart:

For now, my strategy is to avoid drinking liquids at any cost. But eventually I'll be forced to cross my legs tight and dance. So at that point I'm just praying that Kezzy will already be deep in sleep somewhere so that I can pee in peace. Maybe, like, at 2:00am that can happen.

One can only hope....

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Dumb Bumpkin

My feet hurt.

Yesterday we had an adventure in the Big City. Traffic. Masses of humanity. Exorbitant parking fees. Shopping. Fashion. And there's no better way to feel like a country bumpkin than to tool around a major metropolis.

So, in an effort to feel less like a country bumpkin, and more like a city-dweller, I chose to tool around in a pair of my younger (more fashionable) sister's three-inch heels. At least, it felt like they were three inches. They might have been two and a half....I wouldn't know, because I never wear heels. (That should have been my first red flag.)

"They're comfortable!" She assured me, smiling as she handed them over.

Mmmm-hmmm. Looking back on her comment, I'm sure what she meant is that they are more comfortable than these:

But only slightly. (Or maybe she just hadn't anticipated that I would choose to wear them for miles.)

Here is where my pride took over. You see, my head told me, "Wear a pair of comfy walking shoes ya big dork!" But my heart said, "Everyone, and I mean every single person, will laugh you right off the sidewalk if you wear comfy walking shoes. Even the transients will laugh!"

My mother and aunt advised against my decision, but I assured them that I could endure the pain for the sake of fashion. So I did.

And by the end of the night, my feet felt like this:


But, hey, at least I didn't look like a tourist! Until I realized...this is Seattle. Not New York. Not Hollywood. Not Paris. Not Rio. And almost everyone was in comfy walking shoes.


It's okay, though, nothing a little rest, ice and elevation won't cure. But the thick-headedness? There is no cure for that.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

No, That's Not An Easy Button

That angry red spot in the middle of my face? Yeah, that's a humongous high school throw-back zit. And, yes, it hurts. Hurts like a mother.

So go ahead and stare next time you see me; you have my permission. 'Cause there's no point in trying to avert your gaze. The monster practically begs you to admire its awesomeness. (And has an amazing resistance to concealer might I add.)

Stupid dummie-head juvenile hormones...I'm supposed to be a grown-up now....

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Have A Nice Stay!

I think if we had a motto for this week it would be, "Um...that wasn't in the plan." At least...not in my plan.

But apparently my plans are boring and predictable, as they do not include flooding the laundry/bathroom floor with backed-up sewer water. And while I can agree that the aforementioned situation is infinitely more interesting than the plans I had previously arranged (which involved sipping cool drinks on the deck while chatting with my beloved cousin), I cannot say it was better.

However, the good news is, the plumbing has been cleaned out and our guests will not have to take a shower while standing in a lake of poop water after all. (We do try to treat guests better than that. Unless we hate our guests, of course. And then not only must they stand in the poop water, they must brush their teeth with it as well. But I digress....)

All in all, our guests have been marvelously resilient to all the "non-plans" that have been happening during their visit. Now if we can only convince them to come again sometime.... Maybe we can arrange for someone to get electrocuted by a faulty outlet or something. You know, just to keep it interesting.

Friday, July 13, 2012

Man Up!

Hubby went backpacking and decided to appoint LM as "man of the house" while he's gone.

Nice one, hubs. He might as well have said, "Hey LM, here's a free pass to do whatever you want for the next three days! Have at it, bud!" Hmmm, maybe next time I leave I'll appoint Ruby as "princess". Should give him about the same effect.

But the upside is that LM is taking his role very seriously. When we returned home late this evening, he even insisted on checking the house for burglars before letting me inside.

"Hey, is anyone in here?" he called out through the barely cracked-open door. When no heinous criminal answered, he figured we were safe to enter. Phew!

Anyway...haven't done quotes in a while, and surprisingly, I only have a few to share:

1. LM: (to his sister's friend) "Beware of my sister, she tends to have a lot of problems."
(Needless to say, he didn't earn any points with his sister on that one.)

2. Hubby: (stepping on the dog's bed) "Gross! There's something wet there." (He bravely bends down to take a whiff.)
Me: "Is it pee? Puke? Drool?"
LM: "Maybe it's time we get her some diapers."
Me: "Bud, at the point we need to get this dog diapers, it'll be time to take her down to the vet for a permanent nap."
Hubby, Ruby, LM: (in chorus) "Nooooooooooooo!"
(Seriously? I can't be the only one who sees the logic in this.)

3. Hubby: (asleep) "Cascading Ken. Dude, I would totally pick him-- he's the perfect match! And Alfonso...that guy rocks! Or is it Alonso? Alfonso or Alonso? Alfonso, that's it."
(Cascading Ken? Was he dreaming about Malibu Barbie's boyfriend or something?)

4. MIL: (referring to a person whose intellect does not impress her) "Yeah, she's not the sharpest cook in the drawer."
(Ummm...never mind.)

5. LM: (fed-up with his misbehaving little cousin) "Somebody needs to overthrow that brat!"
(No worries, son, his parents have already staged a coup.)

6. LM: (speaking to his great grandma) "Gigi, have you ever been hit where it hurts?" (Points to his crotch and nods knowingly) "I have."

7. Mister: (after his sister hit him for being a pest) "Mom, Bopper hit me!"
Bopper: "That's not hitting, that's sign language for 'Mister, knock it off!'"
(I'd like her to teach me her version of sign language sometime-- sounds useful!)

That's all I got for now. Until next time....

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Duct Tape Cures All

Drive the truck to the Oregon coast-- it seemed like a benign enough idea. Ten hours in a small cab with hubby, two antsy kids and an ancient dog whose breath smells like rotten fish. Luggage packed in the truck bed in Rubbermaid bins, alongside an organ and bumper pool table-- to be dropped off in Beaverton with relatives on the way. Um, why did we think this was a good idea? Why?

We were on the road not fifteen minutes before the hubster had to pull over and adjust the tarp we'd haphazardly thrown over the whole lot. Then another ten minutes before he decided to just give up and pull the worthless tarp off altogether. Unfortunately, upon removing the tarp, lids began to fly off the Rubbermaid bins as we drove. Stop truck. Retrieve lids from highway. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

But it wasn't until one of the sleeping bags flew onto the highway that hubby really lost it. Oh wait, I think I have a picture of that. Yes, here it is:

The kids would be happy to tell you what he said, I'm sure. :)

"We're not moving until we can duct tape these lids on!" Hubby announced on the shoulder of I-90, tossing the errant sleeping bag back into a bin.

"Do we have any duct tape?" I asked.

"No. We have to buy it."

I looked around me. Nothing but barren fields. "Sooooo...are you going to conjure a store out of thin air?"

I'd stumped him. So, we decided to put the tarp back on until we once again entered civilization, since duct tape does not exist in the wild.

By the time the store was reached our tarp was in shreds, and so was hubby's sanity. But a quick stop into the hardware department for duct tape reinstated order, and we were able to continue on our merry way. Duct tape even ensured our dog's rancid mouth stayed shut, and the kids' arms and legs kept to themselves the entire way! And when they complained, a little duct tape over their mouths restored peace and quiet. Lovely!

Actually, after the purchase of duct tape, the trip went wonderfully smooth. Hey, I guess taking the truck wasn't such a bad idea after all!