Saturday, September 20, 2014

Alba gu bràth!

People have been asking me for the past couple of weeks how my wee Scotsman feels about the vote for Scottish independence.  Let me say this:  he would've voted for it.


He watched the debates on CSPAN with fervor.  He explained the pros and cons to me, and to anyone who would listen, often with a thick brogue.  The man knows his Scottish history.  Heck, we even watched Braveheart somewhere in there, with him bellowing in said brogue "they can take away our lives, but they cannot take away our FREEDOM!"


The man loves the land of his father.


We went to Scottish Fest last weekend, and partook of some fine Celtic music (if you ever get a chance to hear the Rogue American's, DO IT.  They are amazing.), had a fine whiskey tasting, watched some caber tossing, and even saw a Storm Trooper wearing a kilt.  No lie.  It was a fine time, and I'm hoping to have my Smith tartan sash by next year's fest.  'Twas a proud day to be a Scotsman (or woman).


We wandered around to see what they had, and found ourselves in the Viking encampment, listening to a very loud rooster.  I couldn't figure out where it was coming from, and me, being the Chicken Lady that I am, went searching.  We found him, a fine, fat specimen, in a wire crate near the ladies, bellowing his displeasure at his accommodations.  I admired him, only to be told by one of the ladies "he's dinner."  I must've had a shocked look on my face, because she looked me in the eye and said "I'm serious.  He's dinner."  So of course, after the Ceilidh (a dinner and music fest of its own), we had to check to see if the rooster was still with us.  Alas, the Vikings were all asleep, and unless one of them was cuddled up with him, he was in several bellies.  RIP Rooster, you were a fine chicken.


So yesterday, friends invited us out to "either celebrate Scottish independence, or mourn the loss" in the vote.  We found ourselves munching on burgers at the Irish Mutt -- ok, so it's not Scottish, but we figured MacNivens' was a) probably packed and b) further away and c) a lot more expensive.  Jim and Bob are like Mutt and Jeff, but they are both Marines, so they swapped sea stories over several beers, whilst Annie and I listened.  Just when we thought they were done, Jim ordered a round of Scotch, and drank to the land of his father, saying Alba gu bràth (which means Scotland Forever).


Never mind that on the way home, these same two Marines were in the back seat of the car singing Mama Mia at the top of their lungs, which Jim today steadfastly denies.


Alba gu bràth!






Monday, September 15, 2014

No Such Thing as a Bedtime Routine

I was chatting with one of the kids on Facebook tonight, and told them I needed to put the puppy away, so I'd be right back.  Here's what happened afterward:


Picked up puppy.  Started down stairs and realized she had put the water bowl on the stairs.  Picked up water bowl to avoid a fall on the stairs, and put it on the counter.  Went in and turned on dryer to warm up the hubby's Browns' blanket before I took it up to him.  Put puppy away.  Realized Mickey had followed me downstairs and is now staring sadly at me by the door, wanting to go out.  Let Mickey out.  Went to kitchen, filled water bowl and put it on the floor.  Mickey was now barking hysterically to get in.  Let Mickey in.  Grabbed blanket from dryer.  Start up the stairs, but Mickey stops to get a drink.  Call him to come upstairs.  I get upstairs, only to realize that Bandit is pounding on Seth's bedroom door, which is closed.  Let Bandit out of bedroom and he runs downstairs, wanting to go out to the garage.  Go back downstairs and let him outside.  Go back upstairs.  Realize I forgot to get hubby's evening meds.  Go downstairs and get meds and refill his Mason jar of water.  Go back upstairs and realize that I never too my evening meds.  Go downstairs and take said meds.  Come upstairs and climb onto bed, only to realize that now Facebook has frozen, so the "I'll be right back" is truly a lie now.


Try to reboot computer.  Go and brush teeth whilst it is rebooting.  Come back, only to find that it still hasn't even shut down.  Shut it down manually, while thinking that maybe my hard drive is dying.  Don't really care, because there are several broken keys on the keyboard, so it's a lotta work to type on it.  Restart computer and decided I'd better go pee while it's booting up.  Go pee.  Climb on bed, only to realize that Mickey had apparently followed me downstairs and he is now scratching at the bedroom door.  Let dog in.  Settle into bed with all my comfy pillows.  Mickey comes around to my side of the bed, wanting up.  Pull him up on to the bed.  Open Facebook.


Kid has signed off.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Everyone Has Their Limits


The Spare to the Throne is a sniffer.  He has, probably since birth, always smelled everything he comes in contact with, the first time he comes into contact with it.  Food, shoes, clothes, shampoo, whatever.  He always smells it.  He used to come to me with his beloved blanket and say "wow, Mommy, my blanket smells SO good, doesn't it?"  He'd hand it to me so that I could take a deep whiff.

This may explain why now, I have so little sense of smell.  That thing was WICKED bad in its odiferous-ness, but it was hard to get away from him long enough to wash it.  OK, so yeah, I had a rather co-dependent thing with my blanket when I was little, and maybe, just MAYBE I sucked my thumb till I was double digits, but yeah......I don't think my blanket smelled that bad.

So Jim made dinner one night a couple of weeks ago, and remarked "you know what Seth's gonna do when he sees this, right?  He's gonna smell it."  I knew he was right -- I can't remember what he had cooked, but it wasn't familiar to Seth, so of course yes, he picked up the plate and took a big whiff.  Maybe the boy is part dog, or wolf, or cat or something.  It's one of his little food quirks, like the fact that he doesn't like his food touching, or he eats only one food at a time on his plate.  No biggie, just quirks.

He also loves shrimp.  So Jim and I went to the commissary, and I decided I needed to get him these:



I mean, he loves shrimp after all. And he has always been a grazer.  I figured oh well, let's see what he does with these.  Well let me tell you, it was hysterical.

He looked at them quizzically and read the package.  He opened it up and did his normal thing:  sticking his nose into the bag and taking a big whiff.  It was at this point that the entire bag almost went flying, because he not only smells things, he has a super SENSITIVE nose, so when that smell hit him, it almost knocked him down.  "OH MY GOD," he said, "that is AWFUL."  I mean, how can a strong smell of shrimp, enclosed in plastic for however many weeks, be bad, right?  Thomas told him he was being a wimp, grabbed the bag, and promptly almost lost his lunch right in front of me.  He suggested that perhaps they didn't taste as bad as they smelled.  Seth decided to give it a try.

He took a bite.  Paused.  Chewed thoughtfully, appearing to be deep in thought, then announced "NOPE, they are just as bad tasting."  I'm pretty sure he spit it out.  And maybe even gargled a bit and spit into the kitchen sink.  Then he decided that maybe it would be better, the more you ate.  Nope.  Same thing.  He decided to clip 'em shut and save 'em for later.  As in, two or three weeks later, when he suddenly decided to open them up and maybe, just maybe, try 'em again.  And what does he do?  Sticks his head in the bag again, recoiled, and tossed 'em straight into the trash.    Trash which then had to be taken outside because the smell was defiling Jim's beloved pantry.

Moral of the story?  Everyone has their limits.  And for some people, that limit is Shrimp Chips.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Welcome to Our World

Where this...............


Turns into this, which is Leeloos new favorite pasttime.

Friday, August 15, 2014

New Digs

Thomas moved into his new apartment a few weeks ago, after spending some weeks visiting our fold out in the sunroom.  OK, so I all it an apartment, and he calls it a house.  It's actually a duplex, so let's split the difference.  In either event, it's on the southern end of SoBro, which is the southern portion of South Broad Ripple, so he is now one of the cool kids.  Or not.  Oh well, he's close the the library, the police station and the fire station, all within a few blocks radius of his house.

He's living with one of his buddies, Ben, and my fourth child, Chris, who is in his element in his very first apartment.  Ben, not so much, since he had a good job at Lockheed Martin as an engineer or, as he called it, The Restroom Grand Tour, since he basically spent his whole day wandering around the building with the excuse of looking for a restroom..  After a few years of the grand tour, he ditched it all and came to Indiana, and is now tutoring some Indian kid up north, making more money than I do as a nurse.  But I digress.  Chris has the small, corner room and seems to be as happy as a clam.  Thomas got the big room and is still wondering why, since he really doesn't care.

Thomas' biggest complaint was that they needed a table.  Jim tried to give him our smaller kitchen table, but he declined, saying that they didn't have room for it.  Jim doubted this, and I just shrugged, till I was told by the heir to the throne that he couldn't believe that I hadn't seen his new digs yet.  "I mean, Dad has been here, and you haven't.  What's wrong with that picture?"  I went over, and his dog promptly bit me (see previous post), but before I toddled off to Medcheck, The Heir told me that it wasn't that they didn't have room for a table, it was that they needed a bigger table than what Jim had offered.

That afternoon, they followed my advice, went to the furniture store up the block and pad $50 for a dining room table, which was promptly taken home by the four of them, carrying it he-man style down College Avenue.  I wish I had pictures.  Or video.

They needed a bigger table because they like to play games, and the card table they were using wasn't big enough.  Seth spends lots of time over there, hanging out (it's closer to his internship than we are), or just hanging out with his bros.  I suppose when school starts, they will still hang out, because it's only a few minutes from Butler, where Seth will be living on campus.  And so it was that Thomas gave Seth a key to the house:

And Seth loves it.  I thought at first it was plastic, but Seth told me today, as we were waiting to pick up his car from Walmart's automotive department, that it's not only metal, but it has some weight to it, "so when I swing my lanyard around, I thought that maybe it would kill someone if I hit them with it."  This digressed into a conversation about how perhaps this is why Goths love Hello Kitty, because of the danger element.

Who knows.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

OK, so this happened today.

This is her new favorite position which proves, of course, that she's a terrorist, because she completely holds me hostage every time this happens.

And I'm ok with that.

Wednesday, August 06, 2014

The Tiniest Terrorist

We've been discussing the possibility of having a baby.  We've been married for almost five months now, so it's about time, I suppose.  I've taken care of a lot of babies over the course of time, having been a nurse and mom for all these years, but still, it's not a decision to make lightly.

It all started one day when Jim said that we needed a companion.  Something to liven the place up, dontcha know, because his child bride apparently isn't enough.  And so it was that we ended up with this, our new baby girl:

Is she not the CUTEST baby you've ever seen?  I wasn't too sure about this, because I haven't gone the puppy route since Rocky showed up, some almost six years ago.  He's living the beach life with Jill and Michael now, which means he is a well discplined, non-spinning version of his former self.  We have Mickey, who is also six, spoiled rotten, and a lover of everyone.  But Jim mentioned something about getting him a girlfriend (he's neutered -- she's just a FRIEND), and I went off to search.

Mickey is a Cavachon, rescued from an abusive home, whose tongue constantly lolls out the right side of his mouth.  It doesn't affect anything about him -- it just makes me look goofy, which fits him well.  Jim wanted another Cavachon, because they are hypoallergenic and sweet as can be.  It's not easy to find a rescue Cavachon, because there are no Cavachon rescues, and Petfinder doesn't list them as a breed.   I found one in Cleveland -- serendipity, since Jim is from Cleveland -- but they wouldn't adopt it out of state.  I found another in Ohio, but it was already being adopted.  At one point, I found one in Austin, Texas, who, believe it or not, had been injured, resulting in a tongue that lolled out the RIGHT side of his mouth.  Alas, Jim thought Austin was too far to go, and he wanted a girl.  And so we found Leeloo.

This little beast has taken over the house.  She is a ball of fire: cute as heck, always moving, and always underfoot.  It's something of a miracle that I haven't fallen, given the fact that I had knee surgery three days after we got her.  She's a wiggleworm who never sits still.  She's been pummelled by the very annoyed cat, who looks at her like "oh for heaven's sake, not AGAIN."  I mean, it's not like Bandit hasn't been down this path a time or two.  I think that's why he expends so little energy on her.  He knows the score.  Mickey alternately growls, then lets her curl up near him.  He draws the line at her grabbing his bear.  He's definitely not having any of that!

She likes to chew on toes, shoes and cords.  This morning, she dragged the bathroom rug out into our bedroom -- and it's easily several times her size.  She got closed in the screen door once, and stepped on twice today, and she still bounces around here like a bunny.  And right now, she is curled up asleep in her nest -- something that surely will only last for a few minutes before she's up and nibbling on our toes again.  Hint:  if you want to see a Marine melt, bring him a puppy.  He sat in his recliner on Sunday, watching Too Cute  with her "because she likes it."  Oh brother............

She's our little Leeloo, and we love her.