Cathy in the Wright

Today's 'Heh'

Stolen from Geoffrey:

Looking Forward To The Next Holiday

I apologize for not posting yesterday, but I was still trying to recover from Sunday’s culinary debacle. It’s too painful to dwell on it, so I will instead focus on the silver lining. I will probably never have to fix Easter dinner again. Family members will start volunteering in February to avoid having to eat another Great Un-Ham Dinner at The Outpost.

Having been the beneficiary of vast quantities of dry pork roast, the dog alone finds reason to mourn.

Today finds everyone in an improved mood around here. It’s difficult to feel subdued on a beautiful spring day. With temperatures in the 50’s, the boys and I were talking about what outdoor projects we could accomplish today. The Senator asked if we could spread peanut butter on The Governor’s hair, dip him in birdseed, and put him out on the deck.

It was a serious request. I am raising future asylum inmates.

I think, instead, we will go out and lay in the grass and watch clouds. This will be followed by first annual Easter Egg Massacre in which we take all the decorated eggs out to the pasture and smash them against tress. A little post-Easter therapy for me...destructive fun for the boys. Just the sort of thing the Mother of the Year judges look for in a candidate. 2005 should be a cinch.

Shhh, If You Please.

I have a few minutes before the chaos begins anew, so a few words for my esteemed readers.

My neighbor turned 50 yesterday, and his wife hosted a fantastic party. How good? Get home at 3:15 a.m. good. Bonfires, beer, food, and lots of intoxicated neighbors. Always a great combination.

I woke up this morning, ran my hands through my hair, looked in the mirror and saw lettering all over my arms. I had a momentary fear that I had enlisted in the armed services and went out and got a tattoo, but then I remembered my neighbor Andy...or should I say "Big Willie" (he wanted his own blogging pseudonym)...writing messages to The VP on my arms with a green marker. Thanks, pal. It's been years since I re-lived my freshman year of college.

(And hey JV - don't think I forgot that you didn't want to see your name on the blog.)

Today, after the Tylenol kicks in, we'll be cleaning house and getting ready for Easter. Hope you all have a great weekend.

Still Here

I love late evening blogging. The VP is reading in bed, the kids are asleep, and the dog is curled up by my feet. All that's missing is an adult beverage and some Bizet on the stereo. Wait...wait...okay. All fixed. Carmen and Amstel Light. Not bad. Not great, but not bad.

I was going to write about our trip to Chuck E. Cheese last Sunday, but since I haven't had time to get near the keyboard this week, the memory has mercifully faded. I don't recall ever wanting to lay waste to an entire restaurant before. Patrons, staff, booths, tables, games, bathrooms, carpeting...everything. Gone. Flamethrower or fire hose, I'm not picky.

But that was Sunday. It's hard to remain in a bad mood when the thermometer hits 45 degrees in March and my in-box is filled with emails about summer soccer leagues. Let the pizza rat live another day.

Tomorrow looks like another wild day. Playdate, birthday party, soccer. See you at midnight.

Travel Plans

Another great day at The Outpost. The sun is shining, the boys aren't fighting, the laundry is done, and no one called me a "bitch" at soccer last night. I'd feel selfish asking for more.

The VP and I have been busy planning for our big vacation this summer. The Grand Lodge of Minnesota has organized a trip to England and Scotland to tour some historic Masonic sites. There will be some free time to explore, so I'm looking for suggestions. I know we'll be hitting the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, and the British Museum. The VP and I want to see The Cabinet War Rooms and Churchill's Museum. Another friend recommended going to see Warwick Castle.

Any other must-see? Please don't mention that giant ferris wheel that sits on the Thames. I would vomit.

In addition to England/Scotland, The VP and I are going to pop over to Paris for a day or two. I really want to go see The Lourve and Notre Dame. Better remember to pack my GWB '04 t-shirt.

Of course all this planning is for naught if we don't get The Governor potty-trained by the time we leave. Both sets of grandparents are going to help out watching the boys, but I've heard rumors that the deal is off if diapers are involved.

Speak of the devil...here he comes announcing his good intentions to use the toilet for Number Two. Yeah, kid. I've heard that before. Our routine is to drop the pants, sit on the chair, wait four seconds, and then have him declare "I don't have any." And we'll do this three more times before he decides to go hide in a corner and fill his pants.

Look, son, I'm blogging. Can't you just go into the kitchen and duck behind the table? I'll be with you in a minute.

Still Holding My Breath

to see if this works. While I was at soccer last night, The VP messed around with the computer and figured out that the new firewall from McAfee was too thorough to let Moveable Type work properly. A few adjustments...and here I am.

I don't know yet if the rebuilding problem is fixed yet, but I'll know in a few moments.

UPDATE: YAAAAAHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! It works again! Excuse me while I go calm the children; they think their mother is having a seizure or something.

Is the past prologue?

The Chairman is flummoxed by gremlins that seem to move through the ether from one computer to another. Perhaps there's a tad of prologue in the past.

My first computer was a 1982 Osborne luggable that weighed 24 pounds. It came with WordStar, dBase and SuperCalc. These were useful programs that fit on 92K floppy discs.

The spell checker may have been an Oxford desk dictionary, but this fine machine was NOT rope-start, as claimed, and you really didn’t have to raise the wick to brighten the 5-inch screen.

I preferred the Osborne to the new IBM PC which had a keyboard made horrid by an enter key no larger than any other. But it at least “Big Blue” on the box made computers acceptable to executives who thought ball-point pens were high-tech.

Errors of the era were as simple as the hardware. I remember someone who used a No. 2 pencil to erase data. Someone else stapled a disc to a memo. My favorite is the guy who filed his discs by using magnets to hold them against a metal cubicle wall.

My early computer years were only a generation or so from the era when exorcism was an accepted business practice. So, Ms. Chairman, I’m suggesting you obtain bell, book and candle and proceed to read the directions. There; now, aren’t I a help?

I'll Take The No. 8

I love living in the country. I couldn't move back to the city now. I've become too accustomed to the quiet, the dirt roads, the space, the abundant wildlife, and the ability to take a shower with the bathroom blinds wide open.

But there are a few things I miss about the city. I miss being able to walk to the grocery store or the dry cleaners or the post office. I miss the fantastic people-watching from my Uptown (Minneapolis) apartment front porch. And I miss Chinese take-out.

I would sell my vote to the next Democratic presidential candidate if she could get a good Chinese restaurant to open up within 20 miles of The Outpost.

Saturday night The VP and I made the haul into the Cities for Chinese food. We ate at a small restaurant in a quiet strip mall. Great meal. By the time the fortune cookies arrived, I wanted to smoke a cigarette. Next time, we're going to go back on the buffet night and I'll be bringing a cooler.

And a pack of Camels.

Trivial Post

There is nothing like a good game of trivia to make you feel ignorant. Last night Fraters Libertas hosted the weekly trivia game at Keegan's pub. My team was comprised of my friend and new blogger Angie, fellow MAWBers Margaret and Sandy, and myself. Out of twenty-five questions, we scored an ego-deflating 16. What's even more crushing...I contributed approximately ONE correct answer the others didn't know. In fact, because I couldn't remember the sequence of our earliest presidents...I swayed the team into a wrong answer. I was more of a liability than a help.

But I'm blaming it all on the quiz masters. Too many sports questions. Next time I'm going to insist that a woman contributes to the game. Then I'll sit back and laugh as I watch Team Fraters answer questions like

Which brand of sanitary napkin comes with "wings"?

Manolo Blahnik is

a) A former Eastern Block Soviet dictator
b) A famous shoe designer
c) A medical condition involving swelling and rashes around the sweat glands
d) A gourmet chocolate manufacturer

Name Oprah Winfrey's boyfriend.

I'm sure the rest of the MAWB Squad could come up with better questions, so gentlemen, it's time to turn off the ESPN and time to start taping daytime soaps. And Fraters, you can take your Cy Young Award questions and stuff them in your Manolo Blahniks.

Nursing Home Tuesday

I think I may have to give up my volunteer work. Pet therapy at the nursing home isn't going to do much for my evil ratings.

Today Hoocher and I spent quite a bit of time with Mr. H. He's in the manor recovering from an illness. When I knocked on the door, he answered, "No one is home. Go away!" So I said, "Open up, dammit!" Well, I would have said that if I was 20% more evil. I'm working on it.

So I said, "Hey Mr. H.! Sorry to bother you. It's just Cathy and Hoocher; we'll catch up with you another day."

"Wait! Wait! Come in! Come in!"

So in we went. Hoocher jumped on the bed and put his head in Mr. H's lap. And Mr. H. talked and talked and talked. And when he started talking about his wife who died recently, he got a little choked up and so I held his hand. And he talked and talked some more. And when we finally got up to leave, he patted me on the arm and told me he was so glad I came to see him.

So I told him he was a montrous, boring old pain in the ass.

No. I didn't. (But that would have shot my evil rating up at least 41%)

I told him the pleasure was all on our side. And it was. Moments like those are what makes getting up early, dragging two cranky children out of bed, bathing a reluctant dog, bundling irritable children and a damp canine into the car, paying for daycare, and getting covered with geriatric spittle completely worthwhile.

But I hid his glasses on the way out the door.

No More Flannel Pajamas For Me - I'm Hauling Out The Leather Teddies

My new goal in life is to be more evil than King. Right now I'm sittin' there just under Lileks looking like Sweet Polly Purebred. No one wants to hang around the goody-two shoes. Face it, John Travolta did not really go crazy for Oliva Newton-John in Grease until she tarted herself up a bit. Look at the media frenzy around Martha Stewart. Jail did wonders for her.

I'll have to work on this. Damn! Damn! Damn! (Maybe more swearing, huh?)

The MAWB Squad did better, but I think most of the credit there goes to Sandy.

The Hustler

I've been suffering with a mild cold the last couple of days, and I have not felt much like running around the house playing "Superhero" with the boys. (I do a mean Hawk Girl.) My strength is sapped, as is my patience. So when The Governor started clinging to my legs yesterday, I pulled yet another brilliant parenting maneuver and hired The Senator to entertain his little brother.

I've done this before. Two dollars for one hour of uninterrupted peace and quiet. The Senator caters to The Gov's every whim, and The Gov basks in the glory of being in charge.

The Senator, however, has quickly figured out the true value of his services and is now trying to capitalize on it.

Listen, son, how would you like to earn some more money?

Sure, Mom. I like money.

Great. Me too. How about you play with The Gov for the next hour and keep him busy so I can rest?

Okay. But how much money do I get?

Two dollars. Same as last time.

But Mom...how about five dollars?

Five?! No way. I don't have that much money. Two.

Five.

Two.

How about three?

I only have two dollars.

Mom, if you have two dollars, you can get three somewhere.

I was so proud, I almost gave him ten.

Have a Guinness For Me

Because Aelfheld is getting pretty excited for the North Texas Irish Festival, I'll get him in the spirit with the following joke sent by his fellow Texan, Gary.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I have been with a loose woman."

"Is that you, little Tommy Shaughnessy?" asks the priest.

"Yes, Father, it tis."

"And, who was the woman you were with?"

"I won't be tellin' you, Father. I don't want to ruin her reputation."

"Well, Tommy, I'm sure to find out sooner or later, so you may as well
tell me now. Was it Brenda O'Malley?"

"I cannot say."

"Was it Patricia Kelly?"

"I'll never tell."

"Was it Liz Shannon?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't name her."

"Was it Cathy Morgan?"

"My lips are sealed."

"Was it Fiona McDonald, then?"

"Please, Father, I cannot tell you."

The priest sighs in frustration. "You're a steadfast lad, Tommy Shaughnessy, and I admire that. But you've sinned, and you must atone. You cannot attend church for three months; be off with you now."

Tommy walks back to his pew. His friend Sean slides over and whispers,
"What'd you get?"

"Three month's vacation and five good leads," says Tommy.

Have a great time, Aelfheld.