"No, 98, I'd zap it for a minute."
"Do you think 30 seconds would work?"
"No, I think a minute would be enough."
"Okay, I'll try 30 seconds."
True Story
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Welcome to My World
"Mom, do you think the cider will be warm enough if I zap it for 15 seconds?"
"No, 98, I'd zap it for a minute."
"Do you think 30 seconds would work?"
"No, I think a minute would be enough."
"Okay, I'll try 30 seconds."
"No, 98, I'd zap it for a minute."
"Do you think 30 seconds would work?"
"No, I think a minute would be enough."
"Okay, I'll try 30 seconds."
Monday, November 15, 2010
You May Want to Come Back Later if You're Having Lunch Now
I've had some pretty disgusting moments in my history of marriage and parenting. I was with my husband for sixteen years, and I have two boys, now teenagers, and we've had more than ten pets, if you count all the cats, frogs, turtles, snakes and the dog. And during this time, I have had some pretty disgusting moments. I'm not sure I've ever told my most disgusting moment story from beginning to end.
My most disgusting moment was not the very early on poopy diaper contest, which I won by default when my newborn son turned up on the changing table with poop on the top of his head, and the soles of he feet, and most spots in between. It was also not the time an out-of-town friend so admired some cardinal feathers she found that she displayed them for the rest of her visit on the edge of my upstairs bathroom sink. Unfortunately for us, those feather were still attached to a wing, and the wing had been recently ripped from the shoulder socket of poor Mr. Cardinal, which I knew because flesh still hung from the bones. The bones which rested so artfully next to our toothpaste and soap.
It was also not the great fly debacle, which was not so much a disgusting moment as a disgusting and very long month-and-a-half. Our cat, Alpha, had found an already-dead (read: maggot-infested) frog, which he brought into the house before I could stop him. He ran into the cellar with it, and I ran after him, but I never found the frog. Days later, flies started showing up in the house; first in ones and twos; eventually we had scores, and probably hundreds of flies, mostly in the dining room and kitchen. So at least our tv watching wasn't too impacted. Only our food prep and consumption. I would herd flies into the area between window and screen and then quickly close the window, cross my fingers and then just wait patiently for all the flies to die. I hoped they wouldn't reproduce in there, envisioning my brand new windows closed and permanently nailed shut as generation after generation grew and thrived: our own miniature entomological Great Barrier Reef, Medford-style, in the making.
And over the years I have simply gotten used to picking up every sort of dead animal, or remaining parts thereof, with the longest-handled shovel I own, and flinging it across the fence into the Fells, or into the creek behind the house for burial, eventually, at sea. So dead rodents aren't involved in my most disgusting moment, either.
Agent 98 is.
He was 8 or 9, and came to me with a hangnail. I kept an eye on it, because there's really nothing but time that can heal a hangnail. A day or so later, a soothing soak in epsom salts. A day or so after that he showed me the finger again, but by now it was swollen and red, and really quite infected.
Look away now if you're still eating.
I did the only thing I could think of: I squeezed it to get rid of the infection. I heard an audible "pop", and 98 felt instant relief. I found a tiny speck on the kitchen floor, and cleaned it up with a wet paper towel. I recall being a bit surprised that his giant swollen finger didn't leave more ... ahem, sorry ... evidence. But I cleaned up, and went on with my life. Ah, not so disgusting, you say?
Weeks later, Tom was in the kitchen, glanced up at the ceiling, and spied what he immediately recognized ... again, ahem, sorry ... as the missing piece of the puzzle.
Yup, I took a picture.
My most disgusting moment was not the very early on poopy diaper contest, which I won by default when my newborn son turned up on the changing table with poop on the top of his head, and the soles of he feet, and most spots in between. It was also not the time an out-of-town friend so admired some cardinal feathers she found that she displayed them for the rest of her visit on the edge of my upstairs bathroom sink. Unfortunately for us, those feather were still attached to a wing, and the wing had been recently ripped from the shoulder socket of poor Mr. Cardinal, which I knew because flesh still hung from the bones. The bones which rested so artfully next to our toothpaste and soap.
It was also not the great fly debacle, which was not so much a disgusting moment as a disgusting and very long month-and-a-half. Our cat, Alpha, had found an already-dead (read: maggot-infested) frog, which he brought into the house before I could stop him. He ran into the cellar with it, and I ran after him, but I never found the frog. Days later, flies started showing up in the house; first in ones and twos; eventually we had scores, and probably hundreds of flies, mostly in the dining room and kitchen. So at least our tv watching wasn't too impacted. Only our food prep and consumption. I would herd flies into the area between window and screen and then quickly close the window, cross my fingers and then just wait patiently for all the flies to die. I hoped they wouldn't reproduce in there, envisioning my brand new windows closed and permanently nailed shut as generation after generation grew and thrived: our own miniature entomological Great Barrier Reef, Medford-style, in the making.
And over the years I have simply gotten used to picking up every sort of dead animal, or remaining parts thereof, with the longest-handled shovel I own, and flinging it across the fence into the Fells, or into the creek behind the house for burial, eventually, at sea. So dead rodents aren't involved in my most disgusting moment, either.
Agent 98 is.
He was 8 or 9, and came to me with a hangnail. I kept an eye on it, because there's really nothing but time that can heal a hangnail. A day or so later, a soothing soak in epsom salts. A day or so after that he showed me the finger again, but by now it was swollen and red, and really quite infected.
Look away now if you're still eating.
I did the only thing I could think of: I squeezed it to get rid of the infection. I heard an audible "pop", and 98 felt instant relief. I found a tiny speck on the kitchen floor, and cleaned it up with a wet paper towel. I recall being a bit surprised that his giant swollen finger didn't leave more ... ahem, sorry ... evidence. But I cleaned up, and went on with my life. Ah, not so disgusting, you say?
Weeks later, Tom was in the kitchen, glanced up at the ceiling, and spied what he immediately recognized ... again, ahem, sorry ... as the missing piece of the puzzle.
Yup, I took a picture.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Nine Months ...
Waking early today, what with it being "fall back" and all, and with more Tom on my mind than usual. I've already mentioned so many things I miss about Tom: the snoring, the bickering, his CQ (carguy quotient), which I will really miss later today. My check engine light came on yesterday, but today we drive to Lowell for a bowling tournament. I cross-my-fingers and hope it's just because I'm late for my oil change. Until a couple of years ago, the light would not have come on, because Tom would have changed the oil weeks ago, before the light, and before the ground got too cold. And if the light had come on anyway? I would have received the usual stern lecture about how this wouldn't be an issue if I'd just learn to drive a standard, and then he'd have driven to Lowell. He'd be bellyaching the whole way, of course, but with no check engine light blinding my vision, I'd be okay with that.
In my own self interest, these days I'm also missing his awesome headache massage skills. I'm working on day 16 of a sinus headache. Yes, I've tried the netti pot, and nasal sprays, and warm compresses, and the decongestant that you can get on the shelf and the good stuff you ask the pharmacist for. I even went to the doctor and got an antibiotic, which is finally working, but that headache is just not altogether gone yet. So I tried to massage it away myself, but, alas, to no avail. I think headache massages must be like tickling: it's just not the same if you try it on yourself. I enlisted poor Agent 98 for a headrub, but I could hear the ca-ching of future therapist bills ringing in my ears, and put an end to that idea pronto. "My memory's fuzzy, doc, but she was making funny moaning noises."
So today, I'll clip coupons in Tom's honor, and then, for old time's sake, forget to bring the coupon wallet with me to the grocery store.
In my own self interest, these days I'm also missing his awesome headache massage skills. I'm working on day 16 of a sinus headache. Yes, I've tried the netti pot, and nasal sprays, and warm compresses, and the decongestant that you can get on the shelf and the good stuff you ask the pharmacist for. I even went to the doctor and got an antibiotic, which is finally working, but that headache is just not altogether gone yet. So I tried to massage it away myself, but, alas, to no avail. I think headache massages must be like tickling: it's just not the same if you try it on yourself. I enlisted poor Agent 98 for a headrub, but I could hear the ca-ching of future therapist bills ringing in my ears, and put an end to that idea pronto. "My memory's fuzzy, doc, but she was making funny moaning noises."
So today, I'll clip coupons in Tom's honor, and then, for old time's sake, forget to bring the coupon wallet with me to the grocery store.
Monday, November 1, 2010
They Did Their Bit to Restore Sanity and/or Fear
Jack and Agent 96 had a blast in DC.
They brought a sign with an obscure literary reference. And wore costumes to coordinate with the sign, what with it being Halloween weekend and all.
They jumped when the Mythbusters said, "Jump", and waved when the Mythbusters said, "Wave."
They had a Five Guys burger.
They nudged Sen. John Cornyn (R, TX) after his appearance on This Week. I think he thought he had a fan in Jack, what with the enthusiasm and all. Umm ... not so much. (FTR, I did not mean to imply they "assaulted/nudged" the Senator. I meant to say they irritated/noodged him, but I don't know how to spell that word and spellcheck isn't helping ...)
And they ordered room service.
They did their part; now let's all go out Tuesday and vote.
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