Cathy in the Wright

Recovering

Had The Senator's preschool friends over today. Since school is out for Christmas break, the siblings of these friends also came to play.

Drug dealers don't hang around schools for the children...they hang around schools for the elementary grade teachers. It has to be a huge market.

"Hey kids," says Mrs. Camp, "it's probably not a good idea to slide down the stairs on the toybox lids because..."

CRASH

"...Oh, geez, Sylvia, your mom is up in the kitchen. Better have her take a look at your nose."

"What? No, I'm sorry. You cannot play 'Finding Nemo' in the bathtub with the dog."

"Take the laundry basket off The Governor and set him free."

On the plus side, the hippy's wife I wrote about yesterday was highly entertaining. She didn't react at all to How Ronald Regan Changed My Life or Useful Idiots or Slander. (I was doing a little light reading last night and left them out on the coffee table.) She's had a very interesting life - lived in various cities, had various careers, various husbands, various major surgeries, various disasters (among which was having the sewer system back up into her house three different times), various lawsuits...you get the picture. It was hard for any of us to get a word in edgewise. Not that we wanted to...her stories were always better than ours.

I can't wait to have her over again. Without the kids.

Tomorrow Should Be Interesting...

Just got off the phone with the mother of one of The Senator's preschool friends. I've spoken with her at school and she seems very nice, so we invited her and her daughter out tomorrow for a visit along with a couple of other urchins from class.

I asked her if she had an email address so I could send her directions. She gave it to me and explained, "Yeah, it's strange. My husband's a hippy and I'm a Pisces and we met online..."

Hippy? Pisces? I so badly wanted to ask, "You votin' for Dean?" Guess I'll have to take The National Review and The Limbaugh Letter off the coffee table. I'm not sure if I have anything to replace them. Better get a copy of the Minneapolis Star and Tribune and perhaps fish out my old college books. I think I've got a copy of The Jungle in there somewhere.

My Parents Went to the Democratic Debates All I Got was this Lousy T-shirt

From my mother-in-law

Assorted Notes...

I wasn't going to blog today; kept thinking it was Sunday. This no-school routine is throwing me off track.

The wine and cheese party yesterday was great. The hosts set up stations all over the house; each station had a bottle of wine and a gormet cheese. In addition, the dining room table was loaded with more food...meatballs, mini-quiches, chicken skewers, fruit platters, etc. I found a great Riesling and parked my butt in a chair right next to that particular station. Every time someone wandered near I would say, "I think that's the last bottle...might want to just try a sip," or "Hey, try that Merlot over there first. You won't be sorry." Drank almost the entire bottle myself.

A nap would be just swell right now.

And I'm typing without my splint on. I feel rather naughty.

I have to go retrieve The Governor from his crib. He is protesting LOUDLY. No consideration for my headache.

More later tonight. Assuming, that is, that something worth writing about happens.

And I Saw a White Light And My Grandpa Was There...

My cold wasn't all that bad, I guess. But I sure haven't felt like doing much of anything the last couple of days. I took my first shower since Christmas morning just now. The VP teared up and said it was the best present of the season. Now, I don't take that as sarcasm. I take that as a direct challenge. You think the last couple of days was bad? You. Just. Wait.

I could have really made a statement if I still had the cast, but fortunately for all resident Outposters, the doctor did take it off last Tuesday. The xray showed the fracture has not healed completely, so I do have to wear a splint for another two weeks, but at least I can take it off to wash my hands and shower. No more rubber bands and garbage bags.

In addition to the piles of laundry, the unkept house, the Christmas refuse waiting to be carted away, and a dozen other chores I've been neglecting...I also have to call the mothers of several of The Senator's preschool friends. I told a bunch of them I'd love to have the out here yesterday, but never felt good enough to actually arrange it. Now I'm on the hook for a playdate. My throat feels scratchy and dry just thinking about it.

Going to a wine and cheese party tomorrow. The invitation also said we would be served "substantial hors d'oeuvres." Does that mean there will be plenty of food or that the food served will have some bulk to it? I'm imagining a platter full of raw chunks of beef on wooden stakes.

Must be the cold medicine. Just ignore me.

The Letter

Here's the letter from Max to The Grinch that I found on Natalie's site. Thanks, Natalie, for finding it for us!

To The Grinch

Merry Christmas

Well.

I've been staring at the MT screen for 15 minutes. Finally got a word out. Head cold.

Before I forget...thanks, Aelfheld, for the email! I hope you had a great Christmas. I was going to email back tonight, but AOL doesn't want to work. Thanks for the holiday greetings, and for all the comments over the past months. I always look forward to hearing from you.

Thanks, also, Natalie, for the link to the Grinch/Max letter. It didn't show up in my comments, but I can read it in Moveable Type, so I'll go retrieve it and bring it back here in a minute. Also, about the ass comment...you can look, but you can't touch. Hope everyone at Yates Central is doing well.

The Outposters had a great Christmas. We spent The Eve at my brother's house and had a very pleasant evening. I was quite impressed at my brother's efforts. He's the bachelor in the family. I wasn't expecting Grain Belt and Doritos, but it wouldn't have surprised me. I was surprised by the gormet cheeses, the excellent wine selection, the homemade soup, the martinis, and his overall hosting skills. Well done, Horton!

Today we went next door to my in-laws and gorged on ham. And then opened about a thousand presents. The Senator was in heaven. I think we're going to have to build another pole barn to store all the loot. Even the dogs are in a daze. Biscuits everywhere.

And speaking of dogs, I was planning to take Hoocher to the nursing home today. I really wanted to visit some of the residents who don't have family in town. But I didn't want to share my cold. And Hoocher isn't looking his best right now. Last Tuesday, one of the Alzheimer's patients and I colored the top of Hoocher's head with a blue pen and it still hasn't all come off yet.

So, here's hoping you all had a pleasant holiday. Cheers to those of you who get tomorrow off; my sympathies to those who don't.

I think I will go find my family now. I believe they went upstairs to watch "JEDI KNIGHTS!" as The Governor likes to scream.

Again, I hope you all had a very Merry Christmas!

A Christmas Letter

Dear Green Goddess, Professor and All:

It’s a pleasure to greet old friends and family and to let you know, again, how outstandingly well everybody has been doing in the year ending. In so reporting, we surpass modesty, but it’s difficult not to beam when the results are so shining.

For example, remember our precious Freddie, whose penmanship skills we recognized early through his uncanny replication of our signatures on those absence-excuse documents we found in his room. Those clever notes helped him elude the majority of his junior and senior years, but further skill in calligraphy gave him a diploma nevertheless. Let me tell you, that boy has come along way since his untimely conviction for forgery last January. It made us proud when the warden wrote recently to say that Freddie had moved to trustee status faster than anyone on record in the federal penal system, and we should reward him with a large cash deposit to his commissary account. Arthur and Tyrella Cynic, from next door, caution that the letter might be a calligraphic trick by our precious and talented lad, but we think not! Obviously, jealousy shrouds their canard in a cloak of faux concern. Humph!

More good news: Luella is expecting, and thanks to the wonder of DNA science, she anticipates a good chance at discovering who the father is. Whatever the case, it is almost certain to be a gentleman of breeding and perhaps even note. Conception occurred at the winter binge of Zeta Beta Tau fraternity, and these gentlemen are of the finest families. Luella is so fortunate, and we’re so proud.

Luella’s happenings allow her to share with her nearest sibling, the formerly Rt. Rev. Tillers Watson, the unique distinction of having been publicly defrocked.

Little Tommy is our most glittering star this season, participating actively, as he did, in this year’s global conference on the psychology of abnormal behavior in Montreal. He drew the rapt attention of the world’s foremost analysts for three days running, and found the limelight not at all uncomfortable, ensconced as he was in an adequately ventilated bell jar. With an assist from older brother Freddie, our Tommy has gained long-deserved recognition in the form of honorary degrees from Harvard and Yale. We push modesty further aside to report that Canada has named its $1 coin after Tommy—the Loonie.

Modesty recovers, however, when I write of the Mrs. and me. I’ll say nothing, except that we are quite content to bask in reflected glory, while our junior family members live up to the ancestral motto, “Nolo Contendere!”

Your loving relatives,
The Incubi

p.s. Please excuse our correspondence in Crayola; the major domo in charge of our residence is adamant in his opposition to the use of pens, pencils or other pointed implements of communication.

Warning: Do Not Poke With Sharp Sticks

Or I might just take your head clean off your shoulders.

Crummy day. On the grand scale of things, I hit a few pot holes...certainly nothing life altering. But man I am just p*ssed about everything right now.

Didn't sleep well last night. Err.

Woke up to a note from The VP that the babysitter called last night and has the flu, so I have to haul The Governor along to The Senator's eye appointment. Errr.

Eye appointment didn't go so well. We need to increase patching from 4 to 6 hours because his left eye weakened a bit. Errr.

Tried to take a short nap while The Governor snoozed this afternoon. Dogs barking, phone ringing, Senator singing.... Errr.

Went to local clinic to get my cast off. "Oh dear, your doctor isn't here today. Well look at this...we have you down for next Monday!" It was all I could do not to haul that woman over the reception desk by her lapels and scream, "Trust me! I made the appointment for today! I have been counting down the minutes until this bloody thing comes off. Four weeks is today!" I looked around the packed waiting room and decided there were too many witnesses for such an assault. So I let her placate me with an appointment tomorrow afternoon. If that gets screwed up, I'm just going to start beating on their front desk with my cast until it starts to break apart. I'll take it off myself. Errrr.

And I log in here to discover that apparently, my entire family has everything they ever wanted for Christmas because not ONE of them left a comment on the last post. Gee, Matthew...sorry to discover you're my only reader who doesn't have it all! Errrrr.

Soccer tonight, and I'm going to have to play with this stupid cast. Errrrr.

Thank goodness I didn't log in and have to delete a bunch of spam as I did last night. I just might have taken a bat to the monitor.

Well. I feel a lot better. I guess I should go tell the children it's okay to come out from underneath the furniture.

Final Sunday Update

Just back from Freak League soccer. Must be that the Christmas spirit has finally started hitting everyone. Tonight was a most pleasant game with no rough play and even some joking around between teams. No whining, no fussing, no complaining. Of course, it could have something to do with the fact that both teams had just enough players, and we were all so tired by half time that we had no energy to push each other around. I'll take it either way.

Cast comes off tomorrow! Good thing, too, because it's pretty stinky. Can't wait to see how they remove it. I'm sure modern medical facilities have cool tools or instruments. Out here in the boonies, they'll probably tie two rope loops through the cast, fasten each rope to a horse, smack each horse on the ass, and let them pull the darn thing off my arm. Either that or they'll try to burn it off. I'm not holding my breath for painless and easy.

So, I hope the first part of the week goes quickly for all you stuck in your cubicles or those of you manning the cash registers. Question for you...what would you most like for Christmas? Be reasonable...I don't want to hear that you want Heidi Klum wrapped in ReddiWhip or that you want to be a princess on a tropical island with a harem of 50 young, dark-haired, hazel-eyed men with hairless chests and...and..where was I? Oh yeah...be reasonable. What would be the coolest Christmas gift you could get this year?

The Princess Complains...

Mmmmm. I foiled The VP's plan to bring me breakfast in bed by rising too early, so he brought me breakfast while blogging. I'm so spoiled.

Of course, he may be using this as a negotiating tool. After Friday night, I was ready to put all three of the boys in this house out on the curb. Well, to be accurate, it was Saturday morning. 12:15 a.m. We hear screaming downstairs. I bolt for the stairs, and meet The Senator on the landing. He continues to scream, and before I can ask him "What's wrong?" for the fifth time, he demonstrates for me by throwing up in my hands. We progress up the stairs to the kitchen, and by my spilling or his vomitting, we managed to mark each step.

Now The VP enters the scene. He's frustrated because The Senator can't tell him what's wrong; he's concerned because The Senator won't stop screaming; and we have one of The VP's college buddies staying as a guest and The VP doesn't want to wake him. By this point there's so much noise that there's no chance our friend is still asleep. (Thanks for lying to us, Sheriff Bart!)

I send The VP downstairs to see what needs to be cleaned. The Senator is finally calm enough to sit in a chair and sip some water. The VP returns and says the mess was all in the bathroom; he cleaned it all up.

I start cleaning up the stairs, and then go down to check the bathroom. Uh, Honey, you forgot to mention the barf on the carpet outside the bathroom. Check on Senator. Clean additional vomit. Check on Senator; he's asleep in chair. Move him back to bed with lots of towels and a bucket.

It's now 2 a.m. Back to bed. Asleep immediately.

3:00 a.m. The Governor, obviously feeling neglected at being left out of the action, starts wailing. His problem is quickly solved by finding and replacing The Nookie.

3:10 a.m. Back to bed. Asleep immediately.

4:35 a.m. Just to add insult to injury...salt in the wound...The VP lets loose a blast so noxious that it woke me out of a dead sleep. All I could do was gasp and turn the other way. I didn't have the energy to wake him up and complain. Wouldn't have done any good. He would have grinned and said, "At least I didn't pull the covers up over your head and pin you under there."

11:00 a.m. I'm on the phone to Catholic Charaties to find out the process for giving an adult up for adoption.

I'm done whining for now. Tonight is soccer in the Freak League, so stay tuned; there may be more later.

Housekeeping..

I've had a couple emails and comments about finding "The Letter from Max to the Grinch."

The one I read was over on Natalie's site. I went there to try and find the exact post, but it has scrolled off the bottom of her page, and I can't seem to find the archives anywhere. So Natalie, if you're reading this, could you let all 15 of my faithful readers know where to find that? It was awesome!

Also, you should all go read Velociman's caption in the comments to the post below. Try to top that.

No, I'm Not Nice

After his aides were able to remove his head, candidate Dean shows the audience what he meant to stick up his ass.

Okay, okay. Come up with your own caption.

Picture taken from The Drudge Report.

There's a New Sheriff in Town

This morning, The Governor picked up The Senator's baseball bat and started swinging it around and yelling, "Bad guys! Bad guys!"

Let that be a warning to anyone who thinks of visiting The Outpost unannounced. We have a crack security squad here.

*sniff* We'll have him using a Glock by the time he's two.

It's Slavery!

Don't miss this post over at Jeff's. PETA is my favorite activist group. I love 'em. Really.

While I haven't paid my dues and signed up yet (any day now), I must remark that the one PETA member I know personally owns a dog and is buying another. Yep. BUYING dogs. Not rescuing and returning to the wild. BUYING and maintaining as pets. I wonder if they'll give me a reward if I turn in a non-compliant member?

You Can Always Dream...

Picked up a cool gift for The VP tonight. Cool, cool, cool. I can't wait for him to see it. After he reads this post, I can be comforted that his reaction will contain all the appropriate "oohs," "ahhs," and "Oh, Wows!"

And some say subtlety is a lost art.

Driving home tonight I began to revisit my dream of being granted supreme powers by the state of Minnesota to wield a crow bar or tire iron and put an enormous dent in the hood of any driver I found to be a danger, threat, or general nuisance to other well-behaved drives like myself. As long as this power remains in the hands of an objective, fair, reasonable government representative (me or my duly appointed deputies), I can forsee that it would bring about a lot of good.

Well, it would make ME feel good.

Want to cut across three lanes of traffic (forcing others to slam on their brakes) to make the exit you almost missed because you were too busy talking on your cell phone? WHAM! Explain that to your husband.

Want to tail-gate the woman and two kids in the mini-van because she's driving the speed limit and not 25 mph over? WHAM! That'll look good when you pick up your date tonight. Make sure her father sees it too.

Driving a yellow Hummer? WHAM! Oops. Sorry about that one. Knee-jerk reaction. But really...yellow?

A few kinks to be worked out yet. However, be sure to look for bipartisan support when I get my local state senator to introduce the bill.

Ha!

Okay...I'm in a better mood. I needed something like this.

Questions

Why are there still these damn ladybugs in my house? I sweep, I vacuum...and half an hour later, I find one solitary b*stard crawling along my kitchen window. I hate these bugs. I don't care how many stinking aphids they eat. From now on, I'm going to capture them alive, accuse them of heinous crimes, convict them in front of a tribunal of spiders from the laundry room, and execute them. I'm going to leave their dead bodies speared on toothpicks which will be strategically placed around the front windows.

Why do weather forcasters continue to predict 9 inches of snow and deliver 2? (Sexual innuendo joke deleted)

What happened to Rodger?

I had several more, but they have been driven out of my head by hearing The Governor wail, "Watch Jedi Knights! Watch Jedi Knights!" Appalling.

*****

Today was nursing home Tuesday. Had to drive through nine two inches of snow to get there. We were in Beatrice's room, and Mattie from down the hall comes in and asks Beatrice if she's going on the dining out/view holiday lights evening that is planned for Thursday.

Beatrice: No. I don't need to eat out again. I'm going to gain too much weight.

Mattie: Well I've lost two pounds!

Beatrice: Well you can't tell. That's how bad it is.

***************

I skipped my soccer game last night because nine inches of snow was going to come down by the time I would have been driving home. B*stards.

*************

More tomorrow if my mood improves and a blizzard arrives to save the local weathercasters from a severe beating.

Best. Christmas. Present. Ever.

Except for the pony...that would have been the best ever. I'm almost over it.

Hoo-ha! What great news! I am SO proud of the 4th Infantry Division. How would you like to have been one of the first guys to look down into that root cellar and see Saddam's mug looking back at you? Adrenalin rush.

From everyone here at The Outpost, a very Merry Christmas to all you men and women overseas this holiday season. We cannot thank you enough for your service to our country. We'll never even come close. If you're reading blogs like this one, then you know we're far from being a lone voice of appreciation. Thank you again.

I am hesitant to even pick up a newspaper. The Minneapolis Star and Tribune (no link - wretched registration process - screw them) will no doubt be flooded with letters from ninnies who will ask such egregious questions like "Oh yeah? Where's Osama?" and "What would Wellstone do?" I know, I know. Sends the blood pressure right up, doesn't it?

So just for today...no additional commentary. Celebration only. Now if you will excuse me, I'm going outside to fire my rifle in the air.

One More Off the To-Do List

Oh man. So much to do today. I've warned the boys that I will not be available to play much. Just for today, this blog is considered work. I'm sure it's right on my list between scrubbing the kitchen floor and chopping a metric ton of onions for various recipes.

Yesterday the boys' grandparents (Nana and Buppa) were looking for some adventure, so they decided to take both The Senator and The Governor off my hands for the afternoon. I went into the cities and did some shopping. I got home late, so I didn't have a chance to talk to them and see how their day went. However, their house was still standing. I didn't return to see a smoking ruin next door or any workman's truck parked in the drive, so I'll assume things went...okay. Thank you so much for taking them! It was an unexpected treat to have that free time.

Haven't had much time to check out my favorite sites yet. Hopefully tonight...if I get enough crossed off my list. Of course, there's nothing that says these 10 people coming for dinner tomorrow are too good for pizza. Too bad we don't get delivery here at The Outpost. Totino's anyone?

Have a great weekend.

Ground Zero

Cosmic payback or voodoo curse? I tease Natalie a bit about some snowfall, and WHAM! - My computer crashes again.

So The VP diagnoses that the beastly machine is just old. So we get a new computer. And it has taken some time to get it up and running. I lose all my bookmarks. And I'm welcomed back to Moveable Type with a dozen or so spam comments.

I'm very sorry, Natalie. I won't do it again. Now quit sticking pins into your voodoo plush toy computer and remove the hex.

(I'll get the link in here later; not enough time - go to Natalie's and look for the letter from Max to The Grinch. Awesome.)

More later if time and wild children permit.

Blogging Forecast

Blogging should be light to moderate over the next couple of days as I attempt to wrap, box, and ship all the presents that I ordered back in November. They are showing up en masse on my door step.

The UPS guy tells me hernia surgery is a much simpler procedure these days.

Nursing home yesterday: Mary in the Alzheimer's Unit tells me she loves me. Made. My. Day. Next week I'll be another passing face, but yesterday I was her Best Friend. Funny...our dogs behave the same way.

Dinner party coming up on Sunday. In addition to my mad efforts to make The Outpost look less like a mass merchandiser warehouse...I'm cleaning and closing off rooms so no one can come behind me and mess them up again. By Saturday, we'll all be sleeping and eating in my bedroom closet. I might relent and re-open a bathroom.

Good News: I've almost broken the remaining strip of fiberglass that separates my thumb from my fingers. Left hand mobility should be at an all time high by Sunday. I am debating whether or not to go in on Monday and have the doctor take a look at what's left of my cast. She might feel obligated to put a new one on, and I'd hate to lose my hard-earned freedom.

Hope you are all have a great week. Especially those of you in the Twin Cities Metro area who are still shoveling out of 10 inches of snow. We got a dusting out here. Ha!

A Fine Evening

Woo-hoo! What a great night. Just got back from my pick-up soccer league. No, I didn't exact my revenge on Bill. (See yesterday's post) He was there, but obviously so afraid of me, that he made sure we were wearing the same colors. I didn't have the chance. Doesn't matter. There's still two more weeks in this session. Plenty. Of. Time.

And I got a hug from one of the cute guys on my team. Sure, I had to get hurt first. He was taking a shot; it didn't curve as he had hoped, and I caught it on the side of the head as I was running towards the net. My ear was glowing a pretty shade of red. But Jordy felt so aghast at pegging me...hence the hug. Brave of him to do so; it was towards the very end of the game, and by that point I looked (and smelled) pretty awful.

And speaking of bad smells...I don't think this cast is going to make it another two weeks. After two soccer games, I think the padding inside is rather, um, nasty. And the cast is fairly loose. I can't pull it all the way off, but I'm making good progress. If I apply myself, I could get this thing off in 3 weeks instead of four.

I was thinking I should probably get to bed soon. Tomorrow is Nursing Home Tuesday. (Or, I guess today is.) We've missed two weeks due to the wrist fiasco, so I'm excited to get back. So is Hoocher. He hasn't been himself lately. I think he misses the old timers.

So. Bed. Yeah....I can't sleep. I'm too wound up. Guess I'll browse a bit and see what's new in the 'sphere.

Oh, I almost forgot. Alec Baldwin is a twit. He was being interviewed on NPR's Fresh Air program tonight. He implied that actors apparently don't feel free to broadcast their political views because they will get slammed by the right-wing slanted media. When asked for an example, he said, "Oh....FOX." Oh sure, Alec...FOX. Of course. I can't believe legislation hasn't been introduced by the Democrats yet to break this obvious media monopoly. He also went on to say that people like Ann Coulter and Rush Limbaugh are out to ruin the careers of liberal actors. I couldn't change the station; it was the audio version of a car crash, and I was a gawker.

I really need to go to bed.

Soccer: Back to Almost Full Strength

Tonight was my first night back. Oh it sure felt great to get back out on the field. Or, in this case, the gym floor. Freak league tonight.

I wrapped my cast in an Ace bandage, and no one complained. Of course, it wasn’t the other team that had much to fear from being struck by the cast. There are several people on my own team, however, whom it would have given me endless satisfaction to crack upside the head. I cannot convey how painful it is to see grown men arguing with a referee at half time. No ref is perfect. Bad calls happen…even in these recreational leagues. Most normal players could let it go. Not our team. One of our toddlers was out at center court re-enacting the foul and showing the ref the error of his ways. Hey, do you think that’s why every call during the second half didn’t go our way? Morons.

Almost as painful was the side line coaching. One of my teammates was yelling at the top of his lungs in what could not be considered an encouraging tone of voice. And in between yelling at our teammates, he would turn to me (I had the misfortune to be sitting out at the time), and I would get a lecture on the misplays and bad footwork out on the field. I went and sat with the other team’s subs. If I had not, I would have cracked this bore upside the head.

Jonathan called for a sub, and the bore went back on the field. A sigh of relief. Ah, Jonathan. He’s a good player. From England. Understands soccer. No complaining or whining out of him. I stood up and joined him on our bench. And he started in with, “Our midfield needs to drop back and…” I got up and went back to sit with the other team.

And every week I keep coming back for more. It gets me out of the house.

Tomorrow night is the pick-up league. Can’t wait to play there. I’ve been sharpening a corner of my cast just for Bill. He’s the guy who sent me to the doctor in the first place. I like Bill. He’s a really nice guy. But he’s still going down in a heap when I run into him on the field. I just hope we manage to wear different colors. I’d hate to be on the same side and have to take out one of my own. (Freak League: entirely different situation)

******
I hope this works; I’ve been having some computer problems. Crashing in the midst of checking my links happens to be one of the more prominent issues.

Not From Bartlett's, But Close Enough

The Senator decided to bring a toy train engine to school today for "showing." During the ride to school, I asked him what he was going to tell the kids about his train.

Well, I'm gonna tell them that my train can swim. Well, I just pretend he can swim. And fly. And then I'm gonna say, "That's all, folks!"

Why do I get the feeling that this spring when "Turn Off Your TV" week rolls around, our family is going to get singled out for special attention.

PETA Would Approve

So tonight I'm feeding the boys a light dinner. I ask The Senator what kind of sandwich he wants...ham or turkey.

From across the room, The Governor bellows, "MEEEEEEEAT! Hangurgur! Okay! Okay!"

Would you like me to serve that raw, or perhaps you'd rather just kill it yourself?

Sister Acts

Now this is just too bad. Steve H. has a sister who is No Good.

I hate to rub salt in a wound, but...

I was having a tough afternoon. Strained the wrist too much - it was throbbing. Had to go grocery shopping - company tomorrow. Did a lousy job of wrapping Christmas present - tape kept getting stuck to my cast. The boys were driving me nuts...

I was whining about all this to my sister. The same sister who jumped in her car and drove an hour to come visit me at The Outpost. She brought me and the boys dinner (VP is out late tonight), babysat so I could go to the store alone, gave The Gov a much needed bath, and entertained The Senator until he was laughing so hard he nearly barfed. And then she drove an hour back to her house so she could get ready to go into work tonight at 10 p.m.

I don't deserve her. And Steve deserves better.

Hey!

I'm going over the 5000 visits mark tonight or tomorrow morning. Very neat. Thank you all for stopping by The Outpost.

Sigh...

Oh geez.

My hero...my FAVORITE cartoonist...the man who is going to shish kebab Hillary Clinton at every turn of her run for the presidency...just confessed (see comments of last post) to being a (cough) cat person.

Sigh.

Chris, you just couldn't be! No one who can come up with Damon could be a cat person. Although that Zed...he could be a cat type...Hmmm.

I suppose I can overlook it, as long as you don't start sneaking cats into Day by Day. (Of course a dog would be fine.)

To Die or Not to Die...

Hindrocket at Power Line has a post on the parents' nightmare that has happened not too far away on the North Dakota/Minnesota border: young woman abducted...level 3 sex offender has been arrested...young woman is still missing.

He mentions that Governor Pawlenty has called for the re-institution of the death penalty.

As far to the right as I tip...I have a tough time with the death penalty. Something about government bureaucrats planning a death gives me the chills. That said, I don't think I would lose any sleep over a victim's family member who happened to off one of these sick b*stards. If someone ever hurt one of my kids...I think I would be able to do things that would surprise everyone.

And if some of this vermin makes it safely into the confines of a jail or prison...why bother with the death penalty? What we need to do is revisit the definition of cruel and unusual punishment.

A cell. A toilet. A bunk. A window. Bread. Water. Centrum^TM One-A-Day Vitamins Plus Calcium.

Cruel? Perhaps, but I have trouble understanding why we owe monsters like these anything more than basic sustenance.

Now if the prisoner should request the death penalty...well then we might oblige. Perhaps just slip him a syringe with his loaf of bread and let him decide if he wants to use it.

On this blog, I usually steer away from the anything more controversial than whether or not I should buy the hormone-free milk, but every time a case like this arises, and I think of my kids and all the families I know with young children who could some day turn into a victim...well, it's hard to avoid thinking about what you would like to see happen to these offenders.

Good Girl

It's just time for one of these:

Can you believe my mom doesn't like this dog? How could anyone not love that face? Mom thinks she looks 'sneaky.'

At Least It Wasn't The Sopranos

With my wrist in this wretched cast, The VP has gone out of his way to be extra helpful around the house. One thing I really appreciate - he's taken over the job of putting The Governor to bed. This is a relief to both me and The Gov, since I have a tough time lifting him into the crib and usually end up dumping him over the side rather unceremoniously.

However, I believe some changes are in store.

This morning The Governor greeted me with "Good Morning, Mama!" followed by "Watch TV! Jedi Knights! Duku! Yoda!" Apparently their new bedtime ritual includes a selection or two from Dad's favorite DVDs. I wasn't aware of this; I'm usually typing when The Gov heads to bed.

I don't know what makes me more upset...the fact that I didn't want my 19 month old watching televison or the fact that I don't know half the characters he mentions.

I prefer to let him do all the unstructured, creative, interactive things that so-called "child experts" are always recommending in lieu of TV. Like today, when he found the cheese grater and ran it up and down the refrigerator door...or when he figured out how to open the CD tray on the stereo and removed Bing Crosby and threw him over the railing...or when he ripped two pages out of a book I was about to wrap for a Christmas present...or...or...(sob)

Who's got the website for Netflix?

No, No is a Double Negative, Positively

My daughter, the Chairman, has charged me with failure to say no, when it comes to the Governor and Senator, but that’s categorically untrue. I’ve said no to them quite often. For example, at lunch, I was resolute in telling the Senator “no” when he reluctantly started to turn off the Cartoon Channel before coming to the table. To reinforce my grandfatherly strictness, I further required that he have lunch in the living room. And, when the Governor stuck his nose against the video screen, I was unyielding. He scampered away with alacrity when I barked “no … too close.” So, there!

On another occasion, the Senator whined, “Do I have to eat that,” about some vegetable or other. I was gentle, but firm, in telling him, “no.” And, please note, Ms. Chairman, he obeyed with obvious appreciation for the discipline. What is it they say, “Spare the vegetable, and you won’t spoil the child.”

Only once has the Senator resisted my discipline. That’s when I told him—quite emphatically, I might add—“No! You can’t have sprinkles on your ice cream … we don’t have any more.” As the firm clarity of my reasoning sunk in, he accepted the privation of two scoops of vanilla, mitigated only by chocolate syrup and maraschino cherries. So, even though deprived, he had a happy breakfast.

Daughter, dear, here is advice you should follow to achieve the same kind of discipline that I have installed in your cherubic children.

Firstly, “The Power Puff Girls” are televised baby-sitters and should be used only for that purpose, which is valid. In contrast, “Bugs Bunny” is literature, and “Tom & Jerry” is great literature, and they should be studied. Recall your pride as an English Major Mom when the Senator declaimed Elmer Fudd to grocery-store shoppers— “Kill the wabbit … kill the wabbit.”

Secondly, when discipline really is required, call the Green Goddess and take notes. Warning, it requires skill and practice to achieve “the look,” to which you and your siblings reacted with the compliance of lambs to a border collie’s stare. It takes even more skill and additional experience to display that “look” in a manner that lets the next generation know, “No, I really don’t mean it.” (This is the implied “no” as opposed to the uttered “no.”) This “look” should be limited to special and immediate needs and not used for trivial occasions. For example, the Green Goddess looked the other way on Thanksgiving, when the Senator and his cousins had a pillow fight in the attic bedroom.

Thirdly, you’re simply must start drinking ice tea, which is the nectar of Missouri or, as I-wish-I-could-remember-who said, “the house wine of the South.” In the pre-school set, ice tea serves the purpose of a “time out.” The boys will stop what they are doing for a sip of the icy beverage.(Readers, I learned about ice tea early in our marriage—nearly four decades ago. After shoveling the driveway in a sub-zero wind, I’d be greeted at the back door by my smiling, Missouri-born bride holding a frosty glass of recuperative ice tea.) Ms. Chairman, you're on notice that we'll soon be taking the boys to the next level of ice tea appreciation. When the Lipton’s runs out, we pull the cork on four—count ‘em—family packs of Luzianne, a vintage brew that we brought home from New Orleans.

Finally, visits to Grandma and Grandpa ought to be in the mode of a trip to New Orleans. When in the Big Easy, “Laisez les bon temps rouler!” (Let the good times roll!)