Family Funk

A Good Day Is Painful

Ouch. My body hurts. TW’s body hurts more.

This is what happens when you’ve had a very full, very good day.

Cleaning house, ours and the prairie dogs. Taking three very hyper (though one was terrified) puppies to the dog park. The dog park that is covered in mud except along the edges where it is still covered in snow.

Bathing and drying three very hyper and tired (not to mention smelly) puppies.

All of the laundry that goes along with all of the cleaning, muddy walking, and bathing.

So tired.

But happy for the exercise, the somewhat clean house, and the sunny day.

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She’s No Mrs. Futch…

So remember yesterday? When I spent an hour (which was really closer to three, once it was all said and done) getting shit figured out so that everyone (RJ) could do everything she wanted to do today? Yea. All for nothing.

We got up at 5am so that we could have RJ at ETHS to catch the bus for Science Olympiad BEFORE 6:30am and then we were going to pick her up at Oakton Community College at 11am, after dropping TW’s mom off at the nursing home.

Well… one kid was late, so they waited AN HOUR for him to arrive, which means they were late to Science Olympiad.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the adviser demoted RJ from her co-caption varsity team status to JV status and knocked her off of the two panel thingies she was on and put her on another panel team thingy that she’d not prepared for. Which was bad but it got worse when it turns out the team panel thingy didn’t actually have room for her.

She was replaced by people who had not prepared for her events so what are the odds that those teams would perform well? Slim to none, right?

So, to recap… we got up at 5am so she could catch a bus that left an hour later than scheduled for her to go to an event that SHE DID NOT GET TO PARTICIPATE IN.

What the hell, right?

(Mrs Futch was an awesome 2nd grade teacher that a couple of the kids at Littlewood — we like to hold all teachers to her standards because I think some of the kids still quote Mrs Futch from time to time. I know I do.)

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Poor Tarrant, Poor Lola, Poor ME

The showgirl has an ear infection — bacterial and yeast. She was not happy about the vet looking at her VERY swollen and sore ear. Which tells you how bad it is — she is a pretty tough girl and even when skewered with a metal stake while pregnant, she was by all accounts calm and her normal facelicking self. She was not her happy facelicking self during the exam. (Before and after, absolutely.)

TW was not her happy facelicking self either. Oh. Wait. TW doesn’t do that facelicking thing. Sorry, my mistake. She was not happy today though, not at all. Bad oral surgeon. Bad infection. Bad all around.

I was not my happy self either. Rough long work day. Rough long driving everyone to all of the places day. SO darn TIRED. I’m almost looking forward to jury duty next week, that would give me a little break, right? lol.

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Girl Scout Cookie Time

It’s Girl Scout Cookie Time and I made sure to have some cash in my pocket today when we ran errands — sure enough, the girls were outside of the Starbucks, which is right next to the Robeks we usually stop at after a trip to the Navy base.

While we waited for our Robeks, I asked TW what kind of cookies she wanted. She said, “I dunno, who is the baker?”

Duh, either Little Brownie Baker or ABC, how the hell did I know? I could have walked out there and looked at the boxes and then come back and asked her again which kinds she wanted but whatever. I’ve never tasted a difference between the two, I think TW is just weird.

She’s also annoying and did not want Samoas (Little Brownie Baker FTW!) so I only bought one box of those to send to Sassymonkey and the Fake Husband. She’s also annoying because she likes Thin Mints — I do not. Thankfully she does like Trefoils and Tagalongs — so I bought those and was happy enough.

This led Elly to be completely 100% annoyed. We bought Trefoils for godsakes and NO SAMOAS? What is WRONG WITH US?

I blamed her mother, rightfully so — there are some things I’ll take the blame for but not buying Samoas, nope. That’s all on TW. (But next year I’ll remember and buy a box of them for Elly and we will make sure TW doesn’t touch them.)

Now I’m off to eat a Trefoil. Or 12.

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Frozen Yogurt for Dinner

Last week (or was it the week before) when I read one of those Jennifer Crusie novels, the characters kept eating hot fudge sundaes and I really really wanted one.

Actually, what I wanted was plain ole vanilla ice cream + the chocolate syrup my parents used to sometimes make for us. But, since neither of my parents seemed to show up at my door and I was still craving a hot fudge sundae, we went to Menchies for dinner tonight.

A froyo with bobas and hot fudge sauce is not nearly the same as a hot fudge sundae, but it was good. Or good enough. I’d still like one of my parents to show up and make me some hot fudge. Or maybe I could just figure out how they made it and convince TW to make me some? Now that I think about it some more, I’m kind of still craving that hot fudge sundae.

Gah.

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Hopeful not Hopeful

For the last few days, I’ve gone into the bedroom toward the end of the day thinking, “gosh, I don’t think Buster ate anything today…” and as I have asked TW, very hopefully, if he was better today — I’ve realized, oh wait… he ate a potato or umm the quilt or … yea. No. He ate things. Sigh.

But, he has eaten fewer things. And we’ve spent a lot less time chasing him through the house yelling, “BUSTERRRRRRRR!”

I’m trying to stay hopeful. Because really, eating a raw potato off of the shelf is not a big deal. And I guess, in the scheme of things, eating some more of my already eaten quilt is not so bad either. It could be, and has been, so much worse.

It feels like this was right about the time last year that Skeeter poodle stopped eating so many of the things… so maybe he’s growing up and improving. A little. Maybe? Maybe? MAYBE?

Yea, this is me still trying to feel hopeful…

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I’m An Ant Killer

TW gave me an ant farm for Christmas because I have always wanted one and never had one.

I was very excited. It’s one of those weird blue gel glowing ant farm thingies. I was so excited that I sent away for my ants the first weekend after Christmas.

TW suggested that was not a good idea because it is winter and the ants probably can’t be shipped in the winter.

Oh. Yea.

Weeks passed and the only response I had from the people I ordered the ants from was “thank you for your order…” so I thought maybe they knew that ants couldn’t be shipped to the frozen bowels of hell (which some people call Chicagoland) in January and they’d just wait to send them in the spring.

It’s been so long since I ordered them that I really almost forgot about them. If it wasn’t for the empty ant farm sitting on my desk, I really would have forgotten about them — but every now and then Buster butt jumps up on the edge of the desk and knocks the ant farm over and I wonder about my ants.

I went out to the mailbox this morning while I was warming up the car. There were three tiny little envelope packages in there. One was some jewelry I ordered as Christmas presents way back last November. (sigh) One was a new iPhone case for TW (because Buster butt ate her other new one last week.) One was… my ants. My very frozen ants.

The outside of the envelope says “Keep away from extreme heat or cold.” Sigh. I think the high between the time the mail arrived and the time I retrieved the mail was about – 9F and the poor things were in that box for a good 16 hours. I’d say that’s extreme cold and from the shape of the poor things in their little tube, I’m guessing they’d agree if ant ghosts could talk.

I’m feeling all sad and guilty about that tube of ants. *sniff* May they RIP.

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I’m Still Craving Roast Chicken

At some point last weekend? Or maybe it was last Friday? Whatever, I don’t remember exactly when… I started to smell … something … every time I was in the office. Something familiar. Something almost… comforting? What was that odor?

It finally occurred to me that it was something like roast chicken or maybe turkey. Huh. Weird. Was TW roasting a chicken for dinner? That would be nice but why was she roasting a chicken so early? Was something going on that meant she needed to cook early? Or we needed to eat early? Or … oh well. Whatever.

I assumed that’s what it was and went on about my day only to discover much later that TW had not really planned anything for dinner and she was most definitely not roasting a turkey.

Huh. What was that odor?

We ended up having pork chops and dressing and some other vegetables that I don’t really remember now and I kind of half decided that the odor in the office might have been dressing. It kind of smells like that and maybe RJ had found the bag of vegan dressing and made herself a pot earlier in the day? Weird but it could happen. RJ likes dressing.

I went about my business trying very hard to forget that the office STILL smelled like… roast chicken? stuffing/dressing? SOMETHING… but after two days, it was getting harder to forget that the office smelled that way.

On the third day, I was pretty much going nuts and had decided that my subconscious was telling me that I needed to roast a chicken or the scent was NOT going to go away. So I made a note to myself to take a chicken out of the freezer.

Later that evening, the dogs were causing a ruckus at the prairie dog cage. Skeeter and Lola barking, Betty banging on the bars, Buster butt banging on the bars. Total mayhem. I went over to shoo the dogs away only to find Buster trying very hard to remove some stalks of celery from the cage and the odor, the one that I thought was roast chicken or stuffing … it was oh so very strong.

Celery. It was celery. Not a chicken roasting. Not dressing/stuffing. Celery.

I cursed and removed all of the celery from the cage because the girls were certainly not eating it. I removed the celery from the mouths of all three dogs (because by that time Buster had successfully removed several stalks) and threw it all away.

I also forbid TW from ever putting celery in the girls’ cages again. It was bad enough that the office smelled like squash for three days the last time she put a half of a butternut squash in their cage but this was worse. The not knowing what the smell was or WHY it was there was so much worse than that. I really had begun to think I was nuts.

It’s been several days since I solved the mystery and cleared out the celery. The office hasn’t smelled like roast chicken in ages.

But, every time I sit down at my desk I think, “Gosh, roast chicken would be really awesome for dinner.”

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