Cathy in the Wright

Absolute Zero?

I was going to complain about the temperature being -26 this morning...until I read in my comments that cousin Emmy in Alaska is suffering with -32.

Isn't that the official temperature where hell indeed freezes over? Yikes. You got any wind chill with that?

How It All Began...

Okay, Aelfheld, I'll save you the trouble of asking. :)

The first time I met my future in-laws was at a restaurant. The VP's folks and his brother met us there and we were seated at a large, round table in the back of the place. We could see the entire dining room, the beautiful view of the lake out the windows, and the door to the kitchen.

Wanting to impress my boyfriend's parents, I decided to show them how cosmopolitan...how adventurous I was by ordering something unique off the menu. Keep in mind, this is Minnesota; we don't venture too far off the beaten path. The menu didn't offer too much in the way of daring or thrill-seeking.

So I ordered duck. That's different. That's a bit unique. Everyone else was ordering fish or chicken or steak. I had duck once before at a Chinese restaurant, and it was delicious; a boneless breast of duck in some sauce that was terrific. Go for it. I saw my f-i-l raise his eyebrows a bit so I felt confident that I had made an impression.

Genial chatter continued after the orders were placed, and continued until I saw the kitchen door open. I had, from my seat, the best view of the kitchen door, and so I was the first one of our party to see our waitress walk through with a large tray destined for our table. And I knew it was for our table immediately. Because there...sticking up from one of the plates...was my duck.

Sounds stopped coming out of my mouth, but it was still hanging open. I watched in horror as the waitress approached. She was not bearing some petite duck breast with a side of steamed vegetables but an entire half a duck...leg and wing sticking a mile up off the plate and raised to even further heights by sitting on an enormous bed of wild rice.

The waitress put all the plates down, and I felt like Gulliver in the land of the Lilliputians. Everyone else had tiny little plates with tiny little meals. I had a carcass with which Christ could have fed the teeming masses without resort to miracles.

I don't even remember the rest of the meal. I stared at the dead waterfowl on my plate. I remember trying to carve off a bite or two...but this thing wasn't meant for a polite customer in a restaurant. This was something Grizzly Adams should have been ripping apart with bare hands.

My f-i-l was savoring every minute of my distress...committing every moment to memory when it could be hauled out to embarrass me again.

And he did. The next time I saw my future in-laws was at their house. I had been invited over for dinner. When we moved to the dining room after appetizers in the kitchen, f-i-l points the way and says, "Go ahead, Catherine, and have a seat. I think you'll know which chair is yours."

There was a wooden duck decoy sitting on the middle of my plate.

And thus the great f-i-l/d-i-l war began. We live to get each other.

Global Warming!

-15 degrees.

The tailgate on my Blazer froze shut. I discovered this when I was trying to load a cartful of groceries into the back of the car. Good thing the boys were already inside. I hate explaining what "*&^%#@" means.

Nope. Nothin' Here

Another day fending off the bleh cold. What a mediocre virus. It's not strong enough to wipe me out and give me an excuse for staying in bed, yet potent enough to make we want to sit through The Tigger Movie three times.

Skipped soccer last night. Skipped the nursing home this morning. Nothing to write about.

Oh yeah. I do have a small note to my father-in-law:

Dear Father-In-Law,

You and my terrific mother-in-law picked a great time to go on vacation. While you're sunning yourselves in the Virgin Islands, we got seven inches of snow yesterday. I know you're sorry you missed it. I didn't want you to worry about coming home to a lot of shoveling and plowing, so I fired up the Jeep and took my best shot at clearing the driveway.

It took me a while, but I finally figured out which levers and buttons work the Jeep, which ones work the plow, and which ones make that awful grinding noise stop.

On my first pass, I took out a small section of the pasture fence. Good thing we don't have cows right now, huh? I'll fix it this spring. Promise.

When I was backing out of the fence, I dinged the plow on the corner of barn, but the dent wasn't very big, and it kind of straightened itself out when I hit the pine tree on my next forward pass. You can hardly see any damage.

I got the hang of it after about twelve or fourteen runs, and I might say I did a fairly good job. I did manage to clear away a little earth along with the snow now and then, but if you ever think about putting in a new fire pit, I've excavated a nice site for you just to the left of your deck.

I managed to clear off about a quarter of the driveway when our good neighbor, Kirk, heard the grinding noises from his place and came racing down in his plow truck. He admired my efforts and offered to finish the job for me. I let him. That gave me time to try and fire up the tractor. I didn't want you to worry about running low on firewood, so I was going to haul the woodsplitter out to the pasture and chop up that tree you cut down this summer...but that's a whole other story.

Enjoy the rest of your vacation. See you soon.
Love,
Cathy

Bleh...ther

Thanks, Professor, for posting. I'm battling a slight head cold and haven't felt like massaging the keyboard lately.

I did go out last night, however, to meet up with some friends for a GNO: Girls Night Out. We had a great time which was only interrupted by Susan's husband calling my cell phone to inquire about what I had done with his wife. Apparently, we were out past curfew on a school night. Sorry, Suz.

It was a good thing Mr. L. called, because we realized it was 10:30 p.m., and a couple of us had a long drive home. In the winter storm. If you're reading this, MP, I assume it means you made it home okay and are back at work surfing the Internet and looking for movie trailers to watch so your boss can sneak in and bust you.

My drive home was an adventure. No plows were out and there was a couple of inches of snow on the roads. It was rather fun. Straddling the lanes, driving slowly in a 65 mph zone, fish-tailing slightly, beautiful snow falling...although I'm sure my sister DID NOT think it was fun, as she is a state trooper and had to work last evening dealing with people like me who think everyone should try driving in a snowstorm late at night.

Once the freeway ended and the two lane highway started, I found myself in the middle of a four car convoy. We spaced ourselves accordingly, and followed each other's tail-lights. This worked great until we lost our pace car just outside of Delano. Then I was in front. A little more stressful, as it was hard to follow the trail of tire tracks, but I wasn't about to let the convoy down. I got them all safely to Cokato and then had to pass the torch to the Dodge Caravan behind me.

Made it home safely, and now the boys and I are enjoying a lazy morning watching more snow fall. Unfortunately, the prevailing peace is going to end soon as I announce we need to go shovel so we can get out of the driveway and get to school this afternoon.

More later, weather permitting.

Shiver Me Timbers

For Southern readers of the Chairman’s blog, here are some things you should know about Minnesota in the winter.

We speak of our cold as “dry” and, therefore, less bone-chilling than the higher-humidity cold we attribute to Eastern, coastal states. Anecdotal evidence supports this theory. For example, I never felt colder than I did in the Army in southern Alabama, when I had to get up at 3:30 a.m. and go outside. (However, that was in 1959-1961, before the Gulf Coast was insulated.)

I’ve pointed to “wet cold” as a coastal thing, but North Dakotans likewise claim they never could survive in Minneapolis, because our cold is more severe, degree by dropping degree, due to the presence of urban lakes and proximity to the Mississippi River.

We’re in for a spell of -10 weather but haven’t had any -20 to -30 days and nights for a long, long time. When we did, the Chairman and her siblings used to get a kick out of tossing cups of boiling water into the Arctic air and watching it evaporate. (Q: What is wethrur? A: It’s the worst spell of weather we’ve ever experienced.)

If you’re planning a February visit:

You don’t need a thermometer to tell whether it’s desperately cold. When you walk along the sidewalk, if the snow squeaks, yeah, it’s that cold. You can’t even make snowballs out of this stuff. And that's why we call it “dry.” Some subscribe to the theory that the red-line for real cold is, when you sneeze, it sleets. Define cold however you want, but never, ever be conned into thinking of an aluminum flagpole as a surrogate lollypop. People who lick flagpoles—usually kids on a dare—wind up depositing a layer of tongue on the cold-conductive metal.

It is untrue, however, that you must carry an ice pick on a dog walk to chip Rover away from his favorite fire hydrant. It also is untrue—albeit widely recollected—that we used to walk 5 miles to school through 6-foot snowdrifts, and that was to summer session. The Chairman will claim the same effect from walking to the end of her driveway from November through April.

Feel the brrrr, already? Why, we haven’t even discussed “wind-chill.” That’s what you get when gusty winds compound the absence of Fahrenheit. It might be a balmy 5 above but—in a high wind—your body is exposed to the equivalent of -30 or worse. When a visiting Mississippian had this phenomenon explained to him recently, he recoiled, “There is such a thing as educating a person beyond his need to know.”

One of my favorite Minnesota cartoons shows the hood up on a car with a dead battery and the driver lying dead, alongside. A tow-truck driver is telling a cop, “Before I could do anything, he grabbed my jumper cables and attached them to his wet socks.”

In summer, you can survive here without air conditioning, if you’re willing to sweat for 15 days of above-90 temperatures in July and early August. However, you cannot get along during winter without a snowblower to toss 6 inches of partly cloudy 40 feet into the neighbor’s backyard.

We define “South” as beginning where one of y’all asks, “Now, just what is that thing,” when somebody sporting a chapped and peeling nose shivers past, dragging a snow rake. What’s a snow rake? Why it’s an implement to pull snow off the roof, to avoid water damage during the spring thaw. Who would drag a snow rake south? None other than a Minnesotan in search of a condo for February and March and whose eyeglasses are too frosted over for him to see the Mason-Dixon Line.

If you think I’m exaggerating about the weather? Read about Paul Bunyan and his blue ox, Babe. Absolute, hard-shell-Baptist gospel truth, it is! And why is Babe blue, well, maybe our cold isn’t so dry, after all.

Heh

How did I miss this earlier? I usually read Ryan every day. Wish we had people like him back when I worked for the health insurance company.

Update: I forgot he is on Blog*Spot. Scroll down to Monday's post about the missing bottle of 409.

To Jim:

Happy Birthday, Wizard!

Many happy returns of the day, little brother. I didn't know what to get you for your birthday, so how about a shopping trip to Soccer Express? You can pick out anything you want...except for those really, really expensive kangaroo skin shoes. Although I might be willing to shell out for those too if PETA happens to be protesting in front of the store that day.

Have a great one!

And Another Thing...

Stupid Spammers.

And God, the other day, when I said, "I figure we're not doing too badly in January in Minnesota to at least keep the temperature in double digits." I meant above zero. What the #@!@#$ is with the -32 wind chill?

Hey Nike and Adidas and other womens sportswear manufacturers: Guess what? A lot of us are big girls now...all grown up...you can LOSE the baby blue and pink palates. Navy, Forest Green, Dark Purple, Red....we'll buy 'em!

I had several other things to whine about tonight, but I'm too cold to continue. More tomorrow if I don't wake up to 250 additional spam comments and decide to put the computer on the front porch and let it freeze to death.

I've Been Hit...

Okay. I'm begging for help. I logged in tonight to discover I've got about 200 + spam comments. Until now, I've received batches of 5 or 6 I could delete individually.

I know there are plug-ins to help stop this or at least make it easier to delete them. I've got MT-Blacklist bookmarked, and I even started to read the directions...but here's where I have to expose my incredible computer illiteracy.

I don't understand how to install it. "First, download, unpack the archive and upload to your webserver in ASCII mode." Might as well be written in hieroglyphics. I don't know how to do this.

Someone feel like holding my hand through this? I'll pay an hourly fee to someone who can help me.

AUGGGHHHH!

Another Hard Lesson for Junior

In my quest to fix The Senator’s more liberal leanings (work=bad if you can get free handouts), I’ve created a household “Help Wanted” list for him. I describe jobs which, when completed, can earn the worker bee an entire quarter. I also explained that 35 quarters is just how much a new Bionicle costs and Mom and Dad won’t tell him how to spend money he has earned himself. He was game, and took a shine to the idea of laboring for his own dough. Some days he’s begging me to find work for him.

So all is well…until The Senator starts getting careless with his cash. He starts leaving it around the house in different spots. I warned him several times that money left lying about is apt to get lost or picked up by someone else. The safest place for his money is in his bank.

Did he listen?

No.

Do they ever?

No.

Saturday he had counted out seven quarters and left them on the kitchen table. I reminded him about the general safety of unattended coins. He paid no heed. So when The Senator left to go play downstairs, I took three of his quarters and returned them to Accounts Payable: the tin can where I store loose change.

Some of you may want to split hairs and call it “stealing.” I prefer to think of it as “teaching a lesson.”

Later that afternoon he came back and recounted his quarters and discovered the loss. I didn’t think it was possible for a bottom lip to drop that low. He was taking a deep breath to start the wail when I cut him off:

Did you leave your money on the counter?

sullen nod

Did I warn you about leaving it there?

sullen nod

Then I suggest you put the remaining quarters in your bank before those are lost as well.

He deposited the coin. He still looked sad, so I tried to cheer him up a bit.

Buck up, Senator! Think of it as paying taxes. If Gore were president, you’d be missing six quarters instead of three.

Weekend Wrap-Up

Busy weekend.

Friday night I went out to the local 3.2 bar/grill with some of the other preschool moms. After the grill closed at 10 p.m., we were ushered downstairs to the bar to continue our conversation. Picture in your head the absolute seediest stereotype of a guy who gets arrested on Cops. This comprised most of the bar's clientele. I kept waiting for one of them to take off his shirt and then have Wright County's finest bust through the back door to haul him away.

Saturday, after the second-hand smoke hangover wore off, the boys and I headed into the cities to spend the day with The Professor, The GG, my brother, his wife, and my two nephews. We went out to lunch at a local Chili's, and to everyone's amazement, The Governor behaved well. Long-time readers will appreciate the shock factor here. I ate in a public space with The Governor. Not in the car in the parking lot, as I was anticipating, but at the table with the rest of the family. No tantrums, no throwing of food, no screaming to get out of the high chair. I was stunned. I wolfed down my meal, unable to believe my good luck. I was sure it was just a matter of time before the hair trigger on his demonic side was sprung. But he made it an entire hour. I bought seven lottery tickets on the way home.

Tonight was Freak League soccer. The Senator had expressed an interest to see a game, so we found a sitter for The Governor (not going to push my luck you know) and dragged The VP along. The Senator thought it was pretty cool, and I sure got a kick out of hearing his little voice yell, "Good job, Mom!" anytime the ball came near me. The VP wore a patient look; I think this is the first game he's been to in about 6 years. And I think tonight he remembered why he doesn't come to more games. They bore him silly. Poor man. Well, he's filled his quota for another half dozen years.

On the way home, we stopped at a Wendy's drive-thru. I would like to make a humble plea to the chefs/marketing nuts who thought that mayonnaise was an acceptable substitution for ketchup or mustard. Stop it. Mayo does NOT belong on a hamburger. No. Absolutely not. There's no scraping it off either. It contaminates everything. Bun, tomato, lettuce, meat...it's all ruined. Ick. I don't care how many people have told you they like it...there is a FAR GREATER silent majority out here who is suffering silently. We don't like to make a stink. We'll just never buy another Classic Double Burger from you again.

Hope you all had a good weekend.

New Uniforms?

The guys on my team would approve.

Woo-Hoo!

My jaw just came unhinged. How on earth did 'Cathy in the Wright' make the radar of Lt. Citizen Smash? The Outpost has been blogrolled!

Wow!

That makes me feel a lot better. I was feeling a little icky after discovering someone found their way here by Googling 'Cathy + in + bed + rollover.' Time out for you, mister.

Barber Shop Tourniquet

Took the boys to the barber for haircuts this morning. All I can say is that it's a shame the medical profession has overlooked 'barbershop sedation.' I see a really lucrative calling for an anesthetist with a flair for hair. Reasonable hours. No weekends. And you're never on-call unless you practiced in a very affluent community and someone could afford to call you for the emergency, last minute bar mitzvah invitation or over-looked school picture notice.

I know I'd pay to avoid the nightmare The Governor unleashed in the barber shop today. Thank goodness the place wasn't too busy. As it was, people were coming over to watch the debacle. You would have thought the barber was performing live surgery sans anesthesia from the screams. It didn't help that he was sitting in my lap, and I was performing contortionist moves to restrain his flailing hands and legs and head.

However, not one to dwell for too long on the negative, I will add that there is a silver lining. Next haircut, it's The VP's turn to take Damien.

New Addition

As I was surfing around this evening, I came across a new blog I must now add to the Links over there on the left. He's sharp. He's intelligent. He's got great taste. (See his blogroll. Had he put me FIRST on the list, I could even say he has EXCELLENT taste.)

Meet Ross at Three Sheets to the Wind!

Ross, I'm excited to see you started a blog! Can't wait to read more.

The VP Will Love This One...

Found over at Rodger's.

Crikey!

Jeff has some great stuff today, including this which he saw at StayPuff:

I have a great daydream about little Bobbie Irwin growing up to be just like his dad and one day wheeling his old man into the crocodile pit and putting a raw steak on daddy's lap.

Mooooving To The Country?

Front page article in the Minneapolis Star Tribune today: Stearns County has plans for a scratch-and-sniff brochure warning of rural realities. (Stearns County would be just one county north of The Outpost.)

You read that right. They're printing a brochure with a "Scratch-N-Sniff Cowpie." Apparently the county sheriff is getting tired of city folks moving out into the rural areas so they can mow five acres of lawn and then complaining about the smells and sounds from the farm just down the road.

Well guess what yuppie...that's what you get out here. Furthermore, city utilities don't often stretch out to our neck of the woods, so don't look aghast when you're building your quarter-to-half-million dollar home and find out you have to dig a well and put in a septic system. The county or township might also laugh in your face with no attempt to control the spittle when you demand that they pave your gravel road.

The brochure apparently advises:

If you have a concern about noise, odors, manure application or other issues, visit with your farmer neighbor first.

I can't wait to see sniff this brochure. An odorless version should be available online at the end of January at http://www.co.stearns.mn.us

I Only Bent The Antenna, Never Broke It Off

Here's another post you shouldn't miss. Steve at Little Tiny Lies compares Paul O'Neill to a jilted lover.

Monday Thought Roulette

How did I ever survive without a DustBuster? Life must have been so fraught with hardships before this miracle arrived. Black & Decker needs to make a DustBuster holster so I can bring it with me everywhere.

Sorry, no boring soccer details from last night. I did have a Freak League game, but I skipped it to go have a delicious New York Strip steak at a nice restaurant with my sister and her husband and some other friends. We were celebrating my sister's birthday, which is actually today, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Sis!

My little brother celebrates his birthday ten days from now, and my birthday is ten days from his. Our parents are nothing if not organized and methodical.

The VP and I are heading to Las Vegas next month. I've never been there before. I'm very excited, although I'm not sure what I'm going to do when everyone else is gambling. My interest in slots and cards would have to grow exponentially to register at all. Who knows, I may come home a junkie with my green visor, my tall plastic token cup, and a CSI: Siegfried & Roy t-shirt.

And don't miss Rosemary Esmay's vote for best line in the Democratic debates. Excellent.

A Girl This Time?

The VP isn't going to be pleased when he discovers I'm posting on such a personal topic.

I can't help it.

All day I've been looking at The Senator and The Governor and realizing how big they both are and how haven't heard the wails of a tiny one for so long...

I need another one of these:

I've been looking at Rottweiler sites all evening.

It's time. My clock is ticking.

Son, I Never Said The Right Road Was The Easy Road

For Christmas, The Senator received a Bionicle from his uncle. Made by Legos, Bionicles are snap-together robot/bug/have no idea types of toys.

The Senator became so obsessed with his Bionicle that we bought him two more. He has to follow instructions to put them together; it's a great exercise in manual dexterity (if you could see his handwriting, you would understand the need); and it's better than watching television.

Unfortunately, we created a monster. Yesterday he informed me that he needed the red guy, the blue guy, and three of the brown guys. How was he to procure them?

I gave him the standard parental speech about hard work and EARNING the things you want in life. I gave him a list of chores and their related wages.

He thought about it for a minute and then asked, "Can't we just go to the mall and I could sit in Santa's lap and tell him that I need some more Bionicles?"

Sigh.

The beauty of lifting yourself up by your bootstraps; the glory of earning your own way in life, and the wonder of the free-market system...all dashed to bits as he determines free hand-outs from The Man is the better path.

That's it. There will be NO watching ANY coverage of the Iowa caucuses or the New Hampshire primary in this house.

Where Did The Day Go?

I did think about you all today. Really. Quite often. I cannot count the number of times I reached down for another chocolate bonbon and mused, "I really should go blog something." I apologize, almost sincerely. I had pressing issues to resolve today. Facial, manicure, or both? Massage or seaweed wrap? Divorce Court or America's Funniest Home Videos with Bob Saget? Thank you for understanding my hardships.

Dry up, dry up. If there's one thing I can't stand it's sniveling. Tomorrow should be much better. I'm out of chocolate.

And speaking of Bob Saget, and I don't plan to ever again...I am very annoyed to think that talentless, unfunny, grandmother's pet probably has more money than I do. If Hollywood functioned properly, with it's own Darwinian food chain, he would be doing late night hemorrhoid commericals or holding down a seasonal gig as Santa in a LA strip mall somewhere.

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

I apologize, sincerely this time, for the above. I didn't really sit on the chaise lounge all day nibbling bonbons and watching awful television shows. I was eating Hershey Kisses on The Senator's beanbag chair and watched some program about the Egyptian Pharaohs. I did so little today, I can actually feel the atrophying inside my skull. If the process is arrested tonight as I sleep, I may have some gray matter remaining with which to amuse you tomorrow.

Who's Got Bigfoot's Vote?

I found this last night on 'Blog on the Run.' He wrote:

As a Republican, I don't really care, but I suspect this photo pretty much captures the Lieberman voting base:

Scottish sea monsters have more sense than some Democrats I know.

Blog Roll Update

Since I stayed up far too late last night reading some of his archives, I thought it best that just add this guy onto the Links. Bunsen has a permanent home over there on the left.

I found room for him by sending my brother's site into storage. I hate to do that to family, but I think his last post was in October. The minute he starts writing, he's back at the top of the list.

Unusual Tuesday

A bit off our routine today.

The nursing home called this morning and told us NOT to come in; too many people have the flu and they're posting signs asking visitors to stay away lest anyone else get sick. Of course the call was not in time to save Hoocher from the dreaded bath. He's acting a bit sulky now. Poor boy was dragged through the shower with no payoff - no old men to take naps with, no cookies to charm out of old ladies. Life's hard.

The weather has improved. Last time I checked the temperature was 4 degrees ABOVE zero. Tropical, really.

The Senator hosted a tea party this afternoon for his grandparents. I let him choose the menu. We made chocolate chip cookies and also served blueberry muffins, black olives, tea, and cocoa. I know, I know...what can you do to wrangle an invitation to one of these, right?

Soccer last night was a blast. This is a new session, and several friends I hadn't seen in a while signed up to play. There's always a lot less violence when you're playing people you know and would actually feel bad about maiming. And I put a beautiful shot in the net. After sending all previous shots wide or high, it was nice to finally complete one.

One final thing: If you're feeling patriotic and have a box of tissue handy, go here. Aelfheld left the address for me in the comments to the last post. Thank you, A. Yr Most Humble Svt...

Cold

To the fear-mongers whose battle cry is "Global Warming!" :

You can kiss my 7 degrees below zero - no, wait, it just warmed up to 5 degrees below zero - sitting on a car seat that's harder than granite butt.

Heh.

Thought you've read everything you need to about the Spears marriage? Not yet. Bunsen has some fresh stuff for you.

Thanks to Anna at Primal Purge who pointed this guy out a while back. Hope Anna comes back soon.

Weekend Wrap-Up

Thank you to Emmy, my sister, Jeff, and yes, even you, Geoffrey, for all the suggestions on how to unplug The Governor.

He has been unplugged.

The nurse at his clinic suggested trying another suppository before we brought him in to be seen. The effects of this second heinie missile were far-reaching. When the dam broke...well, let's just say after breaching the diaper barrier and then his jeans, his formerly captive stools were dripping off of his toes. Hope you've already eaten breakfast. (There's a great Whizzo Chocolate Company joke in here, but I'm too tired to make it.)

The bright side of my weekend was a party held by one of my neighbors. Lots of great food, lots of beer and wine, and a really fun bunch of women. Pillars of the community by day...hard-core merriment-seekers by night. I was impressed. I might have to start venturing out a little more. Thanks, Tiffany, for hosting. You should get Andy to leave town more often.

Soccer tonight with the Freak League. Painful. Just painful. We played the Hungarian nationals and they kicked our asses. The loss itself wasn't so awful; it was the sideline whining and coaching and complaining from my own team. I'm not sure I'm going to make it the whole session.

Back to the grindstone tomorrow, which for us here at The Outpost will include preschool and trying to manipulate my neighbor into throwing another party.

Have a great week.

Please Hold on to the Side Rails for Safety

Two days into the new year, and already I'd like to start over. Been a rough 36 hours.

The Governor is plugged. We've tried prunes, we've tried figs, we've tried warm baths, and last night we tried a suppository. Nothing. The poor guy is so uncomfortable. I'm trying one more bath after naptime, and then we're off to the clinic. I'm not sure what they can do for him either. Do you give enemas to toddlers?

His discomfort is making him incredibly crabby. I was taking the decorations off the Christmas tree this morning, and he stood behind me screaming, "Put 'em back! Put 'em back!" I put one ornament back on the tree to see if it would pacify him. He yelled, "Take it off! Take it off!"

After I stripped the tree, I forced both boys into their boots and coats and we went for a walk. Another disaster. The Governor had a complete meltdown half way back to the house and I ended up carrying him. He got heavy, so I set him down for a moment to stretch my back and he started screaming and trying to hit me. A 6.5 on the Richter scale of tantrums. All that was missing was some sulfuric fumes and a 360 degree head rotation.

Now he's down for a nap. I dangled a rosary over his head a few minutes ago, and the house is still standing, so I think I can cancel the call to Father Pat.

On the bright side, I have a soccer game tonight, so I will be getting out of the house, but it's not until 11 p.m. Yeah, I know. Insane. But I'll take my breaks when I can. This is a new league; I don't know if all the games are this late, or we just drew a short straw for this evening. Not that it matters much. With The Governor so miserable, I'm not getting any sleep at night anyway.

Hope you all had a great New Year's Eve and Happy New Year! Thanks, Aelfheld, for the greetings yesterday. Did you have a good Christmas too?

Happy New Year

Just a test. I noticed the calendar to the left was still December. Wondering if posting would change it.

Update: it did.