Cathy in the Wright

Snow Message II (For Gary)

Snow Message I

Which Do You Want First?

The bad news is it's the end of December and there is no snow.

The good news is that it's been raining quite a lot, and another day of this will mean I can sub-divide the front yard into desirable, lakeside lots. About two more inches of rain, and I'm selling off the new maple tree and surrounding mulch as a private island.

UPDATE: 10:15 a.m. Rain has turned to snow. While I'm happy for you, Dale...this is going to put a serious damper on the plans for the marina.

UPDATE II: 11:54 a.m. Crap.

Post Holiday Update

A very wonderful Christmas here at The Outpost. Details to follow. I have a livingroom to unearth first. But before I get too absorbed in the household chores that have been abandoned for the past three days, I wanted to send a very heartfelt Thank You to a couple of residents out in Crested Butte, Colorado.

Dear Terry and Charlotte,

The padded numchuks were an enormous hit. Both boys were swinging, smacking, whirling, and whipping all day long. When their hands were occupied with something else, the boys had the numchuks hung around their necks. They were genuinely disappointed they couldn't take them to bed. I think we could have given them each a PlayStation mounted on a live pony and it wouldn't have turned their heads once your gift had been opened. You have made this "the best Christmas ever" according to The Senator and The Governor.

Their father and I thank you as well. It really warned our hearts to see such joy and happiness light up their little faces.

We hope you have had an equally wonderful holiday.

Sincerely,

Cathy

P.S. The bill for the lamp, the vase, and the ER visit should arrive mid-January.

Guilt Post

I really can't justify sitting here and posting when the minutes from the last PTA meeting are waiting to be typed. But just for you lever-pullers who check back every once in a while...I have this joke from Gary this morning:

A circus owner runs an ad for a lion tamer and two people show up. One is an old guy in his mid-sixties and the other is a gorgeous brunette in her mid-twenties.

The circus owner tells them, "I'm not going to sugar coat it. This is one ferocious lion. He ate my last tamer, so you guys better be good or you're history. Here's your equipment -- chair, whip and a gun. Who wants to try out first?"

The girl says, "I'll go first." She walks past the chair, the whip and the gun and steps right into the lion's cage. The lion starts to snarl and pant and begins to charge her. About half way there, she throws open her coat revealing her beautiful naked body.

The lion stops dead in his tracks, sheepishly crawls up to her and starts licking her feet and ankles. He continues to lick and kiss her entire body for several minutes, and then rests his head at her feet. The circus owner's mouth is on the floor. He says, "I've never seen a display like that in my life." He then turns to the old guy and asks, "Can you top that?"

The old guy replies, "No problem, just get that lion out of the way".

Beautiful Day, The Sequel

Pink eye has been making it's way through the school system, and Tuesday morning, it hit The Governor hard. I woke him up for school, and he started complaining that he couldn't see. Of course I told him to suck it up and be a man and his eyes would get adjusted to the light soon enough. I gave him a piggy-back ride upstairs and once I deposited him on the kitchen stool, he was still whining about how he couldn't see. I turned around, about to chew him out some more, when I saw that his eyes were stuck shut with goopy matter.

Nice job, Mom.

Fortunately, we still had drops left over from the last bout of pink eye about a year ago. Unfortunately, The Gov decided that eye drops really, really bite and he wasn't having anything to do with them.

For two days, I ended up pinning the poor kid down on the ground and sitting on him while I pried his eyes open. By the time I got a drop in each eye, we were both sweating and crying and mad as hell at each other.

The great news is that one of the guys on my soccer team is a pediatrician and I was telling him our eye drop horrors after the game last night. He told me that as long as the discharge had cleared up, forget the drops.

So this morning I got to wake up The Gov and announce we are done with drops. And there was much rejoicing.

The sky is just a little bluer in our world today. And the sun is bright. The temperature is hovering in the mid-forties. Tree-trimmers are taking down a dead oak that threatens to crush the roof over my bedroom every time the wind blows. The dog has a fresh supply of smoked pigs ears. The Customer Service Department here at The Outpost is reporting a record low dissatisfaction index.

Of course, it's only 10:30 am. Might be a good day to close early.

Another Beautiful Day

here at The Outpost. Sun is shining - it's at least 35 degrees outside, and I just sent both boys with loaded cap guns over to fire off several rolls in front of Nana and Bup's house.

I feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

I Need A Ruling

I present the following case for your opinion:

The other day, a beloved individual, who shall remain nameless, presented the boys with two cap guns (each). This individual also gifted the boys with a healthy supply of cap rolls to use in said guns. Today, this generous benefactor sent home additional ammunition. So much ammo, in fact, that I suspect he/she either bulk ordered it on-line or trolled several toy stores to come up with such a large amount.

Exhibit A:

Please note that these are the REMAINING caps.

Given that I am going to be subjected to an incessant POP! POP! POP! POP! for the next week...would it be small-minded to return the Christmas present I purchased for this individual? And would it make a difference if this individual (just for argument's sake) was one's mother-in-law?

A Fine Day

Or a surreal one. Take your pick. The Governor and I went to Southdale Mall and tried to shorten the Christmas gift list. We met with limited success, but overall we were in a good mood because The Gov once again passed up the opportunity to sit on Santa's lap. I realize Santa has been fingerprinted and put through a background check, but it still makes the muscles around my spine clench to think of my little boy sitting on a strange man's lap.

But every year I offer. And, bless him, every year The Governor declines. So after watching some hapless toddler get enveloped in red velvet, we decided to go have a snack in the food court.

We took our food to a small table, just a few seats removed from a nice-looking old man, and enjoyed our fare. Half-way through our meal, the old man got up, dumped his trash, and came back to chat. Sure. What the heck.

He told me that he likes to walk at the Mall of America, but this place was closer. We noted how many stores seem to have come and gone. Remember Donaldson's? Carson Pirie Scott? He showed me his cat's eye ring. And then he asked me if I did any housekeeping.

Wasn't expecting that one. I told him I did, but only at home, and the quality level was questionable at that.

Then he explained that he was looking for someone to do a little house cleaning for him.

Sorry. Can't help. But it never hurts to ask.

The old man walked away, and two minutes later, The Governor bit his finger. Apparently he had a little trouble distinguishing exactly where French fry ended and flesh began. He howled. And howled. And cried. And sobbed.

And all I can think is How friggen hard can you possibly bite a French fry?

The sobbing continued ("It hurts! It hurts! It's never gonna heal!") from the food court to the parking lot to Grandma's house. Fortunately Grandma lives nearby. At Grandma's we soaked the finger in cold water and after half an hour of SpongeBob, he decided he just might pull through after all.

I live in fear of the day the boy actually breaks skin and needs a stitch or two. Nothing short of a Level I trauma center is going to do.

Of course the brightest spot in the day was realizing that we get to repeat it all again on Friday because we didn't finish our shopping.

Oh yeah, baby.