The Bigger They Get

Why in the world am I all of a sudden getting ads on here for G*a*y B*e*a*r D*a*t*i*n*g?

We put our van in the shop today to have a hitch installed so we can move Daughter to Chicago next week. We also asked that they change the oil and check the fluids for the trip. Our car guy called this morning and reminded me that when we’d had the van in for inspection he’d told us we’d need front brakes at our next oil change.

Oh, right. I forgot.

And, he says, you really need four new tires.

Uh Oh.

The total bill? $1200. But the car will be in excellent shape when he’s done.

And that’s a good thing because at this rate it won’t be long before we’re living in it.

I call shotgun.

I wasn’t feeling well yesterday thanks to being a WOMAN.

This woman stuff is getting damn old. Thirty-five years of this crap, the last nine years clinging desperately, white knuckled, to the ragged edge of sanity while being buffeted by the winds of a Category Five Hormonicane.

Enough already.

So I seized the day and did absolutely nothing. Except read. All day. A whole wonderful book. I spent the day wrapped up in someone else’s life and it was AMAZING!! It has been far too long since I let myself escape so completely into a book. Upon finishing it, I felt as if I’d had a deep brain massage and I was so relaxed I could barely sit up straight.

Ahhhhhhh….

And I’m still feeling refreshed today despite temperatures hovering somewhere around 500 degrees with humidity at about 352%.

This tells me I need to ramp up the number and frequency of Reading Mini Staycations.

Like to maybe, oh, I don’t know, every day?

CLICK PHOTO TO ENLARGE

One aluminum pie pan - $.99

One wee hours trip to emergency vet - $200

One goofy-ass healthy dog - PRICELESS

After finally falling asleep on the couch at about 2:30 this morning, I was awakened at 4:30 by Sebastian making a horrific shrieking noise while banging around in his crate. Immediately fearing that a piece of the pie pan was ripping a gaping hole somewhere in his digestive tract, I did what any conscientious and adoring pet owner would do - I rushed him outside to make clean up easier if he made a mess.

This next part is a little gross, so if you have a weak stomach, close your eyes for a minute…

Once outside, he ran in circles, trying to reach his own butt. I peeked under his tail and found what I thought to be a bit of very loose stool clinging to his fur.

Okay, you can open your eyes now.

Leaving him in the yard, I raced upstairs to wake Daughter to help me get him into the van, his most un-favorite thing in the world to do. I was afraid that without her help, I’d have to carry all 70 pounds of him to the van and my fear was that in lifting him, I’d cause further injury by squishing any sharp pie pan fragments into or through his internal organs.

After backing into Yes,Dear’s car as we tried to get out of the driveway - Hey, it was dark, okay? I totally forgot I had parked his car behind the van earlier in the evening. And I was stressed. And cross-eyed from lack of sleep. Whatever…we got Sebastian to the emergency vet by 5 a.m. They x-rayed his innards and found ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. No sparkly bits of aluminum which would have shown up on an x-ray like stars sprinkled across the night sky.

It was then it occurred to me that while Sebastian had managed to get the pie plate off of the table, it could very easily have been Buster who actually ate it. As I sat there envisioning poor Buster at home writhing on the floor, bleeding internally, in pain and alone, the doctor explained the following:

What I had seen under Sebastian’s tail was yuck from him expressing his anal glands. Apparently, in dogs, this is a rather skunk-like reaction to fear or trauma. Since Sebastian appeared to be fine and his x-ray was clear, he had probably had a terrible NIGHTMARE.

We paid $200 to find out that we should have taken him to a doggy shrink instead.

At least they cleaned his butt.

They did give me a copy of his x-ray on CD, which I planned to share here to show you what the inside of my perfectly healthy dog looks like, but the CD is corrupted. I’ve ordered a new copy and will share it as soon as I pick it up. Watch this space. For $200, I’m also planning to email it to everyone I know. I might even get it professionally framed.

Note: Buster appears fine.

Oh, and the search of the boys’ rooms was semi-successful. We now have four dinner plates. We’re going to call in the Navy Seals to dive into Son Two’s closet where we hope to find the remaining eight plates. And maybe a few forks. Because we’re **this** close to eating with our fingers. Off the floor.

Sebastian, that’s who.

It’s late. I can’t sleep. I’m sleeping (or not) on the family room couch tonight because the family room is where Sebastian’s crate is. I am Sebastian’s private duty nurse. He ate an aluminum pie plate earlier this evening and what goes down must come back up. Or out the other end. Or both. Hopefully not simultaneously.

So here I sit. Waiting. And watching.

He snores.

(Ignore the cobweb on the wall behind the table. I didn’t see it until after I’d taken the picture. It’s gone now.)

Back to the plate.

We have twelve of these. Or had. Maybe still have, I’m not sure. This morning there were none of these dirty in the sink. There were none of these clean in the dishwasher. There was just this poor, lonely plate in the cabinet.

Where the hell are our plates?

Could they be here?

It’s a distinct possibility. Son Two actually did a respectable job of cleaning his room for the Realtor showing yesterday, but I don’t know what’s in the closet or behind his dust ruffle.

Honestly, I’m hoping they are in his closet or behind his dust ruffle, because if I find out he’s been throwing away our plates to simplify cleaning his room, the boy is toast.

Somebody cover me, I’m going in.

As a follow up to Mrs. G’s recent Heart of the Home “multi-blog “postapalooza”, as she so eloquently refers to it, Manager Mom invites us to share our workspaces. She asks, “What’s your intellectual sanctuary? Where do you go to do your thinking, working, and writing?”

I’m not sure I can, in good conscience, refer to my workplace as an intellectual sanctuary per se. Mind Dump or perhaps the Place-where-Motivation-And-Ambition-Go-To-Die might be more accurate. In any case, here it is:

See that armoire? It hides a MESS. Armoires are brilliant. They hide all kinds of crap stuff. This one is a Craig’s List find that is falling apart but hopefully will stay vertical at least until our house sells. See those baby gates? They keep Buster from ripping Sebastian apart at mealtimes. Buster has no faults save one: Like many older siblings, he is resentful and would prefer that we not feed Sebastian. At all. Ever.

Sigh.

<—-This is The View from My Room

And here are some Views of My Room…

And one of my favorite Wyeth paintings…(May Basket by Andrew)

Now, to GET REAL…

See the basket with the spiky stuffed fish in it? (The spiky stuffed fish is a long story for another day.) Aside from the fish, it contains things I am supposed to do, look into, follow up on, research. It’s been a while since I’ve looked in there. Like months. I hope there’s nothing important in there.

See the pile of envelopes to the left of the computer? Stuff that requires more immediate action. It’s been there for weeks. The pile to the right of the computer? Stuff that needs filing or requires a trip outside the home to resolve. The pile of stuff to the left of the computer under the stuff on the desktop? All awaiting filing. The two baskets on top of the armoire? Bills. The skinny blue box standing to the right of the computer? A gift of Kotex samples I received from CVS the other day. Wasn’t that nice of them? Unfortunately when it arrived, I was hormonal and pissed that I haven’t gone through menopause yet and I would have sworn CVS and Kotex knew that and were mocking me. See all the other stuff? Want to know what it is? Yeah, me too.

Anyway, too much stuff, but I have a system, people. I might not have all the wrinkles ironed out yet, but, well, heh.

NOTE: After taking the pictures for this post, it occurred to me that I had loaned Son Two the card reader I would need to upload them. I called him to ask where it might be.

Son Two: “Somewhere in my room.”

Me, wailing and rending my garments: “NO! Not your room!”

Son Two: “Good luck.”

This is Son Two’s room.

I considered taking video of his room with my digital camcorder because I could load that directly into the computer if I couldn’t find the card reader, but I was afraid the video would reveal things moving around in there other than the ceiling fan. Needless to say, I couldn’t find a computer in that room let alone my card reader. The image is blurry due to rage and nausea. We have a Realtor coming by with prospective buyers tomorrow afternoon. Son Two needs to pull off a miracle. FAST.

I wish they sold armoires big enough to house teenagers.

Two things:

1. The word “lethologica” describes the state of not being able to remember the word you want.

This is good to know because that happens to me all the …..

Oh, damn.

2. Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour.

Hey, cool. I guess I do exercise!

My day was not wasted.

I hope everyone had a safe and wonderful holiday! I’m still catching up on my reader, but so far it sounds like, for the most part, everyone had a great time. Terrific! We saw some fireworks from the communities situated along the PA turnpike on our way home from the heartland, but it was dark and foggy on twisty, winding mountain roads, so the atmosphere was a bit more Steven King-ish than festive.

Our Chicago road trip was wonderful. And exhausting, hence this delayed posting. But Daughter has signed a lease on an apartment with an amazing roommate. The apartment is close to school and just a little more than a block from a park on the shores of Lake Michigan. Am I jealous?

HELL YES.

Darn kids.

We’ve learned that it’s a LONG way from the Philly suburbs to Chicago by car. Gads, I had NO IDEA how wide Ohio is. Apparently, maps are slenderizing. (Note to self: find map print skirt - if it works for Ohio, it might just work for my ass.)

It took us about a bazillion hours to cross Ohio so we were thrilled to reach Indiana until we realized Indiana and Ohio are Siamese twins, at least until you get to Gary when that song from The Music Man starts repeating over and over in your head and no matter what else you listen to for three days it’s still there, and then you pass through Gary again on the way home and doom yourself to another three days of mental Music Man. And Gary doesn’t look anything like you’d imagine from watching the movie with baby Opie lisping adorably throughout. In fact, it looks much more like someplace you really, really wouldn’t want to let Opie play outside after dark.

I’m sure Indiana and Ohio are fine states with lots to recommend them. In fact, both states’ rest stop information racks are packed with brochures featuring local attractions. We might have visited some attractions, but we were just too worn out from asking each other How many more miles? Huh? How many? HOW many??? Are you freaking kidding me?

Nevertheless, one brochure at an Indiana rest stop did catch my eye:

Eventually, though, we did reach Chicago, took care of Daughter’s living arrangements, and saw some of the sites including:

Wrigley Field. Why? Because Yes,Dear was with us…

…and the Birthplace of Ernest Hemingway. I’ve never enjoyed his writing (Yay! Cliff Notes!) but he came in handy when packing some jewelry to put in storage last year. I marked that particular box “Hemingway Books” so no one would bother to open it. Thanks, Papa H. (Next I want to see his place in KEY WEST. Why can’t Daughter be going to grad school in KEY WEST?? Huh?)

We also saw Frank Lloyd Wright’s home and studio which is incredibly beautiful as is the rest of the neighborhood because I guess in Oak Park everyone has to keep up with the Wrights. Even the Joneses.

And we visited the church that both sets of my great grandparents attended nearly 100 years ago, for which my great grandpa Carlson, the carpenter, made the altar, altar rails, etc., and where my grandparents attended Sunday School together, which is most likely where they met…

…which is why I’m half Swedish with built in Swedish Tanning Secret and usually tan pretty nicely when I’M NOT IN A CAR FOR HOURS AND HOURS DRIVING A GAJILLION MILES THROUGH OHIO AND INDIANA.

We ate well, of course. After all, we were in Chicago.

We also took Yes,Dear downtown and showed him some of the sights…

We spent some time exploring Daughter’s campus which is AMAZING and made me wish I was her. But at least I have a floor to crash on when I visit. No more Super 8 for us!

Right, Daughter?

Daughter?

DAUGHTER!?!?!?

Hellooooooo?