1. We have discovered that Thomas is the Fish God. Every time he gets into the water, schools of fishes swarm around him, and follow him wherever he goes. Every time. It's crazy.
2. Something about The King of all Chickens in a game of pseudo-pictionary is still cracking these kids up, two days later. I, however, slept thru it.
3. Raccoons climb palm trees. Who knew?
4. When Michael falls off a bed, he does NOT bounce.
5. Cell phones demagnetize hotel keys. This was a lesson not learned the first two or three times it happened.
6. Waffle House at 4:30am is a pretty funny place to be.
7. In Florida, liquor can't be sold in grocery stores. It can, however, be sold in a store with the same name as the grocery store, attached to the grocery store, but with a different entrance. And you thought Indiana had weird liquor laws.
9. . There is a store here called Condom Knowledge that I really wanted to investigate, but never did. ::sad face::
9. Avoid Nashville in rush hour at all costs. Seriously.
10. It is possible to have someone draw a huge penis in the sand -- along with HAHA -- on the beach front of a hotel balcony, and it will not be removed quickly. Note: this was NOT our artwork.
11. A dolphin sculpture created in the sand, with a huge wall around it, will be destroyed. The wall, however, will not. People are dumb.
12. No matter where you are in the water, the waves break about 15 feet away from where you are.
13. There must be, at all times, a man on the beach in a Speedo. And he is always too old and too heavy to even think of truly being able to carry it off.
14. You could be wakened in the morning and find that your hotel door is open. And people have been going to the elevator across from said door for over an hour. Probably all laughing at the people sleeping inside. Oh well, life is short.
15. Young children should be given bathroom rights first, lest they wake up the neighbors yelling "let me IN, I gotta POOP!" Repeatedly.
16. Give the parents the secret password to the alarm system before you leave, or the police WILL show up and try to arrest them. NOTE: this could make vacation infinitely more interesting, should you choose not to do it.
17. Colllege students WILL do homework on vacation. High school students will talk about it, then never do it.
I'm sure there are more, but I can't remember them at the moment, so perhaps I will add some later.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Sunday, October 09, 2011
Also heard..........
Seth: "Why are fast food workers alwasy so lazy?"
Thomas: "Maybe because they are working fast food."
Seth: "Yeah, they all are so annoying."
::Michael, in back seat, is silent. With wide eyes::
Me: "You do realize that Michael worked fast food all last summer."
::Michael bursts out laughing::
Me: "Michael, are you planning to..."
Michael: "NO!"
Me: "You seem pretty emphatic about that."
::Michael nods::
Me: "So you guys had better be nicer about fast food workers, or Michael is gonna go all ninja on you."
Thomas: "I'm not seein' that."
Seth: "Yeah, I'm not seein' that at all."
Michael: "You can't see me cause I'm a ninja."
Touche, good sir. Touche.
Saturday, October 08, 2011
He fits right in.
Michael, Jill's boyfriend, is wonderful. I tell her all the time that she is never allowed to hurt him, because it would be like killing a puppy, he's so sweet. And he fits right in with us -- not that we're sweet, mind you, but the sense of humor is killer. Take this conversation, heard on the way to Panama City. Caution: it is partially in Nerdspeak.
Thomas: "Did you know that they have gotten particles to move faster than the speed of light? That's crazy."
Seth: "How did they do that?"
Thomas: "That particle accelerator they built."
Seth: "What's that?"
Thomas: "It accelerates particles, stupid."
Seth: "What for?"
Thomas: "So they can make things move really fast."
Michael: "So kinda like Nascar, only cool."
I love that boy.
Thomas: "Did you know that they have gotten particles to move faster than the speed of light? That's crazy."
Seth: "How did they do that?"
Thomas: "That particle accelerator they built."
Seth: "What's that?"
Thomas: "It accelerates particles, stupid."
Seth: "What for?"
Thomas: "So they can make things move really fast."
Michael: "So kinda like Nascar, only cool."
I love that boy.
Thursday, October 06, 2011
Sethanese, thus far.
So yeah, we are on our way to a short fall break getaway that basically involves my feet, the Gulf and a beach chair. We have thus far made it to Evansville, where we are picking up The Girl and her main squeeze, and take off tomorrow after class.
Seth will be going to class with her. University of Southern Indiana may never be the same.
If you've done much reading about our past car trips, or about Seth in General, you should know that Seth is our main form of entertainment in the car, and tonight was no exception. I plugged in my iPod, and along came Michael Buble's "All I Do Is Dream of You." Here was the conversation that followed.
Me: "This song makes me smile."
Seth: "I like this guy, but he sounds so much like Barry Manilow."
Me: "Barry Manilow? What the heck?"
Seth: "Yeah. Or that other guy. I don't remember his name."
Me: "Frank Sinatra?"
Seth: "Yeah, him. I never remember his name."
After we got to Jill's apartment, a conversation about Hank Williams, Jr. ensued, which involved the word cattle calling.
Seth: "Cattle calling. Isn't that what construction workers do?"
::blank looks pointed at Seth from all four of us in the room::
Me: "Uh, I think you are thinking of cat calls, not cattle calls."
::sigh:: Apparently my child confuses hot women with cows. My chances of becoming a grandmother some day just dropped substantially.
We also discovered that Thomas didn't understand that the word "scarecrow" was derived from the idea that particular item Scares Crows. And when asked by his sister what "germane" means, The Heir to the Throne responded "it's what people from Germany are called." WOW. In all fairness, he ultimately pointed out that he meant Germanic, but I prefer the realization that Sethanese may have a cousin, as yet to be named.
As usual, this will be another interesting trip.
Seth will be going to class with her. University of Southern Indiana may never be the same.
If you've done much reading about our past car trips, or about Seth in General, you should know that Seth is our main form of entertainment in the car, and tonight was no exception. I plugged in my iPod, and along came Michael Buble's "All I Do Is Dream of You." Here was the conversation that followed.
Me: "This song makes me smile."
Seth: "I like this guy, but he sounds so much like Barry Manilow."
Me: "Barry Manilow? What the heck?"
Seth: "Yeah. Or that other guy. I don't remember his name."
Me: "Frank Sinatra?"
Seth: "Yeah, him. I never remember his name."
After we got to Jill's apartment, a conversation about Hank Williams, Jr. ensued, which involved the word cattle calling.
Seth: "Cattle calling. Isn't that what construction workers do?"
::blank looks pointed at Seth from all four of us in the room::
Me: "Uh, I think you are thinking of cat calls, not cattle calls."
::sigh:: Apparently my child confuses hot women with cows. My chances of becoming a grandmother some day just dropped substantially.
We also discovered that Thomas didn't understand that the word "scarecrow" was derived from the idea that particular item Scares Crows. And when asked by his sister what "germane" means, The Heir to the Throne responded "it's what people from Germany are called." WOW. In all fairness, he ultimately pointed out that he meant Germanic, but I prefer the realization that Sethanese may have a cousin, as yet to be named.
As usual, this will be another interesting trip.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Blankety-blank
I remember very well, the events of that day in 2001, when our lives were changed forever. I remember how scared we were, wondering how many more planes would go down, or what would happen next. I remember sitting in line at the gas station, because my car was WAY below E, and being worried I would run out before I got to the pump -- all because people were panicked that gas prices would quadruple overnight.
I remember.
I remember every day, even now, when I hear a plane fly overhead. I thank God that they've changed airline security, but always wonder if it is enough to keep us safe, when people are willing to put bombs in their shoes or their underwear. And I remember our first flight after 9/11 happened.
We were flying to Florida. Dan and I were going on a cruise just before Halloween, and the kids were going to divide their time between both sets of grandparents. It was the first time we flew together as a family, and everyone was incredulous. If I had a nickel for every time someone asked "aren't you AFRAID to fly right now" they'd ask. My response was always no. My theory was, if something happened to me, I wouldn't want my kids to be left alone. And if something happened to my kids, well, bury me right along with them, because I could not go on anyway. I figured that if someone bombed our plane, we'd all die together, and no one would be left alone.
Yeah, people thought I was weird. Heck, people still think I'm weird, but I'm ok with that.
So, in preparation for the flight, I called the airport. When I finally got hold of someone in security, I asked if they would allow my then 6 year old son to bring his blanket on the plane. Specifically, I asked if they would let him through security with it, because if we got to the airport and they confiscated it, we would all end up on CNN, with the headline "6 Year Old Succumbs to Blanket Separation Anxiety." Not taking this blanket was NOT an option. Well, the lady in security's response was "of COURSE he can bring his blanket," in a very condescending tone. "Well, I wasn't sure." "Why in the world would he not be allowed to take his blanket," she replied."
"Well, I didn't know, since it's a queen sized quilt." There was a pregnant pause.
"Well, I hardly think he could carry that," she said.
"Oh, he does quite fine with it, actually," I said, "but if they take it away from him at security, it could get very ugly and loud very quickly."
She still sounded like she thought I was stupid when I hung up the phone. But trust me, Seth lugged that huge quilt everywhere. So we went to the airport, checked in, and got on the plane. I was sitting in front of him and Dan, when suddenly, a child-sized shirt flew over the seat, landing in my lap. I turned around to see what the heck the kid was doing. There he was, topless, wrapped in his blanket. He looked at me, shrugged, and said "I was hot."
After the cruise to nowhere (there was a hurricane, but that's another story), we confirmed our flight home. We had to report to the airport 2 1/2 hours early -- remember, they were being really crazy about the security at the time -- so we went, the father in law dropped us off, and we got in line. When we finally got to the counter, the boy there -- named Mohammed, which sadly, gave me pause, but again, remember how it was at in those days -- informed us that the flight time had changed, and that we were about to miss our flight.
We took off at a full run, with three kids, trailing that queen sized quilt behind us all the way to the tram in the Orlando airport. After we jumped out of the tram, making sure that the quilt wasn't caught in the door, we ran to the gate and made it, just in time to check in before we took off.
We've flown several times since then, sometimes with the blanket, sometimes not. He takes it camping, on vacation, on overnights, and he plans to take it when he goes to Europe for 17 days next summer. And you know what? If he's found something that gives him comfort, why not, because we cannot stay entrenched in post 9/11 fear. We have moved forward, learning the lessons that come from that day, and know that we live in a safer world than ten years ago. There is comfort in simplicity. I think Seth's got it all figured out.
I remember.
I remember every day, even now, when I hear a plane fly overhead. I thank God that they've changed airline security, but always wonder if it is enough to keep us safe, when people are willing to put bombs in their shoes or their underwear. And I remember our first flight after 9/11 happened.
We were flying to Florida. Dan and I were going on a cruise just before Halloween, and the kids were going to divide their time between both sets of grandparents. It was the first time we flew together as a family, and everyone was incredulous. If I had a nickel for every time someone asked "aren't you AFRAID to fly right now" they'd ask. My response was always no. My theory was, if something happened to me, I wouldn't want my kids to be left alone. And if something happened to my kids, well, bury me right along with them, because I could not go on anyway. I figured that if someone bombed our plane, we'd all die together, and no one would be left alone.
Yeah, people thought I was weird. Heck, people still think I'm weird, but I'm ok with that.
So, in preparation for the flight, I called the airport. When I finally got hold of someone in security, I asked if they would allow my then 6 year old son to bring his blanket on the plane. Specifically, I asked if they would let him through security with it, because if we got to the airport and they confiscated it, we would all end up on CNN, with the headline "6 Year Old Succumbs to Blanket Separation Anxiety." Not taking this blanket was NOT an option. Well, the lady in security's response was "of COURSE he can bring his blanket," in a very condescending tone. "Well, I wasn't sure." "Why in the world would he not be allowed to take his blanket," she replied."
"Well, I didn't know, since it's a queen sized quilt." There was a pregnant pause.
"Well, I hardly think he could carry that," she said.
"Oh, he does quite fine with it, actually," I said, "but if they take it away from him at security, it could get very ugly and loud very quickly."
She still sounded like she thought I was stupid when I hung up the phone. But trust me, Seth lugged that huge quilt everywhere. So we went to the airport, checked in, and got on the plane. I was sitting in front of him and Dan, when suddenly, a child-sized shirt flew over the seat, landing in my lap. I turned around to see what the heck the kid was doing. There he was, topless, wrapped in his blanket. He looked at me, shrugged, and said "I was hot."
After the cruise to nowhere (there was a hurricane, but that's another story), we confirmed our flight home. We had to report to the airport 2 1/2 hours early -- remember, they were being really crazy about the security at the time -- so we went, the father in law dropped us off, and we got in line. When we finally got to the counter, the boy there -- named Mohammed, which sadly, gave me pause, but again, remember how it was at in those days -- informed us that the flight time had changed, and that we were about to miss our flight.
We took off at a full run, with three kids, trailing that queen sized quilt behind us all the way to the tram in the Orlando airport. After we jumped out of the tram, making sure that the quilt wasn't caught in the door, we ran to the gate and made it, just in time to check in before we took off.
We've flown several times since then, sometimes with the blanket, sometimes not. He takes it camping, on vacation, on overnights, and he plans to take it when he goes to Europe for 17 days next summer. And you know what? If he's found something that gives him comfort, why not, because we cannot stay entrenched in post 9/11 fear. We have moved forward, learning the lessons that come from that day, and know that we live in a safer world than ten years ago. There is comfort in simplicity. I think Seth's got it all figured out.
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
Naptown.
School started last Thursday for Seth. He likes school, but lamented its return for at least two weeks of his roughly six week summer break. His school is year round, but a rather warped year round, so he really doesn't get a long break. Nonetheless, Irvington Preparatory didn't read his memo, and started on schedule.
Now, Seth is a night owl. He likes to stay up late, but frequently wimps out and falls asleep long before his buddies. Last week, however, he ended up staying up pretty late the night before school starts, and in the morning, it showed. Keep in mind that the boy has two alarm clocks that go off -- one on one side of his head, the other on the other side. He doesn't even flinch. So every morning, the conversation is the same, and it goes like this:
"Seth. Seeeeeeth. SETH."
"::unintelligible::
"What? You have to get up."
"I'm awake."
"You have to be vertical or I'm not leaving this room."
"It's ok. I'm awake." (said as he lays stock-still, wrapped in his blanket. I haven't seen eyes yet.)
"Seth. Sit up. I'm not leaving until I see you UP."
::sits up, wrapped in a blanket like the Virgin Mary, looking like he lives under a bridge::
"I'm awake."
"Now, don't lay back down. Do you want the light?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Ok. Have a good day."
This has been our morning conversation for two years. Occasionally he surprises me and actually wakes up for the alarm, but I think he likes our little exchange, or he's a glutton for punishment, one or the other. Well, Thursday, he was wiped out, but he knew I was driving him to school (first day, Mommy wants to see him off to school, you know), so he got up and motivated. Friday morning wasn't a whole lot better, but he got up and moving, and we made it to school just in time for him to get to class. Monday morning came, and his wagon was still draggin -- he actually did fall back to sleep briefly, but he was up in time to get in the car, though I'm not 100% positive he remembered the trip.
And then today came.
I have mentioned in the past that the boy talks in his sleep. I have also mentioned that he will have entire conversations with you that he doesn't ever remember having. Well, this morning, I went in and woke him up like usual. I use the term "woke up" loosely, as I was pretty sure he was having one of those unconscious conversations. He had actually gone to bed at a fairly reasonable hour, but he was dead to the world when I walked in. Here's how it went:
"Seth. Seeeeeeetthhhh. SETH. SETH SETH. SETH!"
::garbled unintelligible verbiage::
"SETH. Wake UP."
"garbled unintelligible verbiage::
"Seth, you have to get up. I have to see you vertical or I'm not leaving this room."
"wha......." ::garbled unintelligble verbiage::
::he makes a move, but he is wrapped up like a mummy. He sits up about 1/4 of the way, gets tangled, gives up, and lies back down::
"SETH. UP. NOW."
::He sits up. Unintelligble speech. "I'm up." The eyes are open. He is looking at me. He is probably totally unaware of what is going on, but I keep going."
"Are you awake?"
"I'm awake."
"Do you want the light?"
::unintelligble speech::
"What? You need to wake up. Don't lie back down."
"I'm awake."
"Do you want the light?"
"Yeah. Thank you."
"OK, I am going to turn on the light. Do NOT lie back down. Don't go back to sleep. You have to walk to school today, so you have to wake up."
"Ok, I'm fine."
Amazingly, he made it to school on time. I live in amazement of his abilities to get awake, when he looks so bedraggled. He is much like me -- I hate morning. So tonight, we were discussing the next couple of days, because I am off, and I can take him to school. And here's the conversation that followed.
"Did you wake me up this morning? Because if you did, I don't remember it at all."
"Yes, I did."
"Did you talk to me, because I don't remember it at all."
"Yes, we had an entire conversation, but you were pretty sleepy."
"I don't remember it at all."
"Well, it was one of those ones where I knew you were asleep, and I figured you wouldn't remember it."
"I don't."
"So Seth, I know I've been waking you up later than usual. What time do you want to get up?"
"Whenever you get up."
"But that's what I've been doing. I've been getting up later than usual though, so I'm getting you up late, and I know you need extra time to get awake. What time do you want to get up?"
"Whenever you get up."
::getting nowhere::
"Seth, what time do you set your alarm clock for?"
"Six thirty."
"OK, so I will get you up at 6:30."
"I used to set it for 5:30."
::mother shudders::
"Why in the world would you want to get up that early?"
"So I can take a nap."
Ponder that for a minute.
"So you get up earlier so you can take a nap?"
"Yeah, I like to wake up, then take a nap, so I can get awake better when I get up."
Hmmm........hmmm............I will say, this child must not be related to me, because I fly out of the bed at the last possible moment, many days, because I hate to get up, hate the sound of the alarm clock, hate morning, and everything associated with it, and if the boy didn't live here, I would seriously find a way to not get out of bed at any time that has an AM associated with it. And I will also say that there is NO WAY that I am going to wake this boy up at 5:30 am, because there is absolutely no reason on earth good enough for anyone to get up that early in the morning, unless George Clooney is involved, and I wouldn't need to be getting out of bed for that, so it's a moot point.
So tomorrow, the boy will be wakened at 6:30, and hopefully he will wake up. In time for his nap.
Now, Seth is a night owl. He likes to stay up late, but frequently wimps out and falls asleep long before his buddies. Last week, however, he ended up staying up pretty late the night before school starts, and in the morning, it showed. Keep in mind that the boy has two alarm clocks that go off -- one on one side of his head, the other on the other side. He doesn't even flinch. So every morning, the conversation is the same, and it goes like this:
"Seth. Seeeeeeth. SETH."
"::unintelligible::
"What? You have to get up."
"I'm awake."
"You have to be vertical or I'm not leaving this room."
"It's ok. I'm awake." (said as he lays stock-still, wrapped in his blanket. I haven't seen eyes yet.)
"Seth. Sit up. I'm not leaving until I see you UP."
::sits up, wrapped in a blanket like the Virgin Mary, looking like he lives under a bridge::
"I'm awake."
"Now, don't lay back down. Do you want the light?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Ok. Have a good day."
This has been our morning conversation for two years. Occasionally he surprises me and actually wakes up for the alarm, but I think he likes our little exchange, or he's a glutton for punishment, one or the other. Well, Thursday, he was wiped out, but he knew I was driving him to school (first day, Mommy wants to see him off to school, you know), so he got up and motivated. Friday morning wasn't a whole lot better, but he got up and moving, and we made it to school just in time for him to get to class. Monday morning came, and his wagon was still draggin -- he actually did fall back to sleep briefly, but he was up in time to get in the car, though I'm not 100% positive he remembered the trip.
And then today came.
I have mentioned in the past that the boy talks in his sleep. I have also mentioned that he will have entire conversations with you that he doesn't ever remember having. Well, this morning, I went in and woke him up like usual. I use the term "woke up" loosely, as I was pretty sure he was having one of those unconscious conversations. He had actually gone to bed at a fairly reasonable hour, but he was dead to the world when I walked in. Here's how it went:
"Seth. Seeeeeeetthhhh. SETH. SETH SETH. SETH!"
::garbled unintelligible verbiage::
"SETH. Wake UP."
"garbled unintelligible verbiage::
"Seth, you have to get up. I have to see you vertical or I'm not leaving this room."
"wha......." ::garbled unintelligble verbiage::
::he makes a move, but he is wrapped up like a mummy. He sits up about 1/4 of the way, gets tangled, gives up, and lies back down::
"SETH. UP. NOW."
::He sits up. Unintelligble speech. "I'm up." The eyes are open. He is looking at me. He is probably totally unaware of what is going on, but I keep going."
"Are you awake?"
"I'm awake."
"Do you want the light?"
::unintelligble speech::
"What? You need to wake up. Don't lie back down."
"I'm awake."
"Do you want the light?"
"Yeah. Thank you."
"OK, I am going to turn on the light. Do NOT lie back down. Don't go back to sleep. You have to walk to school today, so you have to wake up."
"Ok, I'm fine."
Amazingly, he made it to school on time. I live in amazement of his abilities to get awake, when he looks so bedraggled. He is much like me -- I hate morning. So tonight, we were discussing the next couple of days, because I am off, and I can take him to school. And here's the conversation that followed.
"Did you wake me up this morning? Because if you did, I don't remember it at all."
"Yes, I did."
"Did you talk to me, because I don't remember it at all."
"Yes, we had an entire conversation, but you were pretty sleepy."
"I don't remember it at all."
"Well, it was one of those ones where I knew you were asleep, and I figured you wouldn't remember it."
"I don't."
"So Seth, I know I've been waking you up later than usual. What time do you want to get up?"
"Whenever you get up."
"But that's what I've been doing. I've been getting up later than usual though, so I'm getting you up late, and I know you need extra time to get awake. What time do you want to get up?"
"Whenever you get up."
::getting nowhere::
"Seth, what time do you set your alarm clock for?"
"Six thirty."
"OK, so I will get you up at 6:30."
"I used to set it for 5:30."
::mother shudders::
"Why in the world would you want to get up that early?"
"So I can take a nap."
Ponder that for a minute.
"So you get up earlier so you can take a nap?"
"Yeah, I like to wake up, then take a nap, so I can get awake better when I get up."
Hmmm........hmmm............I will say, this child must not be related to me, because I fly out of the bed at the last possible moment, many days, because I hate to get up, hate the sound of the alarm clock, hate morning, and everything associated with it, and if the boy didn't live here, I would seriously find a way to not get out of bed at any time that has an AM associated with it. And I will also say that there is NO WAY that I am going to wake this boy up at 5:30 am, because there is absolutely no reason on earth good enough for anyone to get up that early in the morning, unless George Clooney is involved, and I wouldn't need to be getting out of bed for that, so it's a moot point.
So tomorrow, the boy will be wakened at 6:30, and hopefully he will wake up. In time for his nap.
Saturday, July 02, 2011
This is my daughter on drugs
I've been running a M*A*S*H Unit of late, what with Jill getting her wisdom teeth out, and Seth getting a two for one surgical special on a shoulder and a toe. Yeah, I guess it's a good thing I'm a nurse.
Jill had her wisdom teeth out a week and a half ago. Her doc has his patients take a mild sleeping pill an hour before the procedure, and just like clockwork, Jill got loopy. She made it into the car ok, but then I realized she didn't have shoes on. When I told her to put her shoes on, she started a little diatribe about how she didn't think she should have to wear shoes into the office, and why couldn't she just go in in her socks? She lost that battle, but that's when it got interesting.
She went to put her shoes on, and suddenly exclaimed "these shoes are made by COMMUNISTS!" She seemed rather amazed, then thrust them up to the front seat to her boyfriend Michael, who was riding shotgun. "LOOK," she said, then grabbed the offending shoe back, and said "Better red than dead." Michael said "well, I'd rather be alive," at which point Jill said "are you a COMMUNIST?"
Oye vay. Michael is as gentle a soul as anyone could ever be. I don't even know if he votes, but I do know one thing, and that's that he is neither Red nor dead.
We managed to get her inside the doctor's office, where she promptly started dancing with Michael. When they called her name, the last thing we heard before the door closed was the lady asking Jill if she needed to use the restroom, and Jill responding with a crisp "nope." The girl was stoned outta her mind.
Afterward, it took Michael and the tech to get the girl into the car, cause she could barely stand. Once inside and rolling, she pronounced that she was "seeing three of everything," and started counting it out: "three guys, three trucks, two telephone poles, three lights......" That was fine, but then she started grabbing at things in the air. When I asked her what she was doing, she said "trying to catch them, whatever "them" was. Then she suddenly let out an emphatic "Communist!"
Apparently, that lady at the bus stop was a Communist. Who knew?
We kept going, at which point Jill pointed to a building and said "that's full of bad people." Michael responded with an incredulous "Lutherans?" because she had just pointed to Gethsemane Lutheran Church (or Jessamain, as Dan once called it. Yeah.) I always knew that Jill was less than impressed with that church's soup, as they hosted some of the Wednesday services during Lent, and their soup and sandwich suppers did not meet her expectations. Apparently that made them bad people in her eyes.
Then Michael asked me what was in the road up ahead, because yes, there was something, and we were far enough away that it was hard to tell what it was. I told him I wasn't sure, then realized it was a plastic bag. When I told that to Michael, Jill responded, "there's a kitten in it." Michael, once again mystified by this person his girlfriend had become, said "a kitten?" and started laughing. Jill acknowledged it, and we both laughed.
When we got home, it took both of us to get her into the house, a feat accomplished only after I lifted her feet up on the single step of the porch, because she kept trying and couldn't get her foot high enough. If I'd waited for her, we would've been there a while. Once inside, we took the path of least resistance and put her to bed. She almost missed the bed when she sat down, then immediately took one shoe off. She couldn't get the other off, so I removed it for her and told her to lay down, at which point she went straight back, lying across the bed instead of the length of the bed, where she proceded to sleep for a good hour or two.
Yep, she's a cheap junkie. The next time she has surgery, we will sell tickets. I will be rich. Would that make me a Communist?
Jill had her wisdom teeth out a week and a half ago. Her doc has his patients take a mild sleeping pill an hour before the procedure, and just like clockwork, Jill got loopy. She made it into the car ok, but then I realized she didn't have shoes on. When I told her to put her shoes on, she started a little diatribe about how she didn't think she should have to wear shoes into the office, and why couldn't she just go in in her socks? She lost that battle, but that's when it got interesting.
She went to put her shoes on, and suddenly exclaimed "these shoes are made by COMMUNISTS!" She seemed rather amazed, then thrust them up to the front seat to her boyfriend Michael, who was riding shotgun. "LOOK," she said, then grabbed the offending shoe back, and said "Better red than dead." Michael said "well, I'd rather be alive," at which point Jill said "are you a COMMUNIST?"
Oye vay. Michael is as gentle a soul as anyone could ever be. I don't even know if he votes, but I do know one thing, and that's that he is neither Red nor dead.
We managed to get her inside the doctor's office, where she promptly started dancing with Michael. When they called her name, the last thing we heard before the door closed was the lady asking Jill if she needed to use the restroom, and Jill responding with a crisp "nope." The girl was stoned outta her mind.
Afterward, it took Michael and the tech to get the girl into the car, cause she could barely stand. Once inside and rolling, she pronounced that she was "seeing three of everything," and started counting it out: "three guys, three trucks, two telephone poles, three lights......" That was fine, but then she started grabbing at things in the air. When I asked her what she was doing, she said "trying to catch them, whatever "them" was. Then she suddenly let out an emphatic "Communist!"
Apparently, that lady at the bus stop was a Communist. Who knew?
We kept going, at which point Jill pointed to a building and said "that's full of bad people." Michael responded with an incredulous "Lutherans?" because she had just pointed to Gethsemane Lutheran Church (or Jessamain, as Dan once called it. Yeah.) I always knew that Jill was less than impressed with that church's soup, as they hosted some of the Wednesday services during Lent, and their soup and sandwich suppers did not meet her expectations. Apparently that made them bad people in her eyes.
Then Michael asked me what was in the road up ahead, because yes, there was something, and we were far enough away that it was hard to tell what it was. I told him I wasn't sure, then realized it was a plastic bag. When I told that to Michael, Jill responded, "there's a kitten in it." Michael, once again mystified by this person his girlfriend had become, said "a kitten?" and started laughing. Jill acknowledged it, and we both laughed.
When we got home, it took both of us to get her into the house, a feat accomplished only after I lifted her feet up on the single step of the porch, because she kept trying and couldn't get her foot high enough. If I'd waited for her, we would've been there a while. Once inside, we took the path of least resistance and put her to bed. She almost missed the bed when she sat down, then immediately took one shoe off. She couldn't get the other off, so I removed it for her and told her to lay down, at which point she went straight back, lying across the bed instead of the length of the bed, where she proceded to sleep for a good hour or two.
Yep, she's a cheap junkie. The next time she has surgery, we will sell tickets. I will be rich. Would that make me a Communist?
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