Spring is Here

And it's mocking me.

This is our fourth spring in Northern California.  When we moved here, I planted irises in the back yard.  All purple because I don't like the white ones and I really don't like the yellow ones.  Mini ones, if I remember correctly.  They've never bloomed.  All I get are green stalks and leaves.  No flowers.  Ever.  

Except for this one single flower, sticking up like a sweet little 'fuck you'. If you listen closely, you can hear it laughing.

And it's all sickly looking to boot....

He's a Keeper

Do you have favorite books from your childhood?  I hope you do.  Ones that stick out in my mind are, of course, Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.  But the one that I remember most is The Wednesday Witch by Ruth Chew.  I've looked for a copy in used books stores over the years but without any luck.  I finally broke down and ordered a copy online but it arrived with a different cover than the one that I remembered. The story and illustrations were the same but the cover just didn't ring true.

Well, unbeknownst to me, John had been trying to track down a copy with the original cover.  Through the glories of the internet, he got ahold of the lady who manages Ruth Chew's website.  She was in Singapore. She didn't have any copies but gave him contact information for Eve Sprunt, Ruth's daughter, who just happened to live 10 minutes from our house.  John arranged for us to go over this morning and talk to her and see a bunch of Ruth's artwork, and I was able to buy an original hard backed copy of The Wednesday Witch.  It was the last autographed copy she had.

Betty and Bernie are Eve's aunt and uncle.  Isn't it funny how everyone has an aunt betty.

It's my prized procession.  I'm calling Lloyd's of London on Monday. 

So I pulled a muscle in my back

Not sure how. Everything seemed fine and then suddenly everything wasn't so fine.  I remember breathing, and sitting, and drinking a diet coke.  Headline: Woman injures back in freak sitting-breathing-diet coke related accident. Could you be next?"

John and I used to pull out our backs all the time when the boys were little.  All the low back strain from lifting and carrying babies in buckets.  This was new.  It was localized around my right shoulder blade.  It helped to reach over with my left hand and press down on the spot but that was causing my bra to ride up and creating additional underwire problems which couldn't be solved while sitting in the school parking lot.  Not without involving the police. And we mostly didn't want to involve the police. Only a small part of me wanted to involve the police. The part that thought he might drive us all home.

Once we got home, the boys kicked into Survival Mode.  Bless their little hearts.  They got their homework done, took care of the dogs, made dinner, kept the fighting down to a minimum. Even got an ice pack for me. Unfortunately, they also kept trying to hug me.  Yes, I love you too. Now please stop.

The only comfortable position I could find was laying flat on my back on the bed.  Which actually worked out well because I'd be contemplating repainting the bedroom ceiling with a reproduction of the Sistine Chapel and now I had an opportunity to plan the project down to the smallest detail.  Sigh.    And, boy, is there a lot of bad t.v. out there.  Cruel Intentions 3? Deepak Chopra: The Future of God?  Whatever happened to that channel that showed Law and Order reruns all day? Double Sigh. After a few hours, I realized that the ice pack had been leaking and there was a huge water spot under me.  Great, now I've wet the bed.

I found some questionably acquired pain pills in the bathroom.  To think, I made it all the way through college without taking unmarked pills found in a plastic baggie. Yet here I am.  It would have less dangerous back then. What's the worst that could have happened?  A revoked drivers license?  An unplanned pregnancy? Oh, please.  Look at me now.  I'm laying here with severely decreased inhibitions and access to KateSpade.com  This could end in disaster......

Alice ran away again....

I'm starting to get used to it.  I didn't even get off the couch this time.

The boys were unloading groceries from the car and left the front door open.  In their defense, if Alice hadn't broken the garage door, the car would have been parked in the garage instead of the driveway and boys wouldn't be using the front door so really this is her fault.

After about 10 minutes, John noticed that the door was opened.  Abbey was laying on the floor in the sun room, sound asleep, because she's a good girl.  Oh, yes, she is. Yessheis!  Alice was nowhere to be found.

John hollered at the boys to get their shoes on and go find the dog.  Who, by the way, doesn't have any tags on her collar because she went into the backyard one day in December and came back inside without a collar.  "Where's your collar?" "What happened to your collar?"  "How did you even get it off?"  nothing.  Dog completely ignored me.  (But she did get a brand new collar; maybe I should try this tactic with my car...hmmm...) In February, the collar turned up, missing the tags. It laid on the back step for something like two weeks because I'm not playing these games, dog!

Before I got up off the couch, the boys returned, carrying the dog.  Wow, that didn't take long.
Tom, "She was coming up the driveway."
Me & John, "She came back!"

Later that night,
Me, "You know, I think she came back because she knows this is her home and she's safe here and this is where she belongs."
John, "She was probably hungry."
Me, "Well, that works too."

Proof of Life

The middle school band is going to be performing at Disneyland next weekend so this afternoon they had a mandatory dress rehearsal.  Everyone had to bring (or wear) their formal band attire to prove that they actually had all the appropriate articles of clothing.  Last year a kid showed up at Disneyland with his shoes held together with silver duct tape.  (It wasn't even black duct tape. This generation has no class.)  The Disney representative wouldn't let him on stage because he wasn't dressed appropriated.  I wasn't there so I didn't see who the Disney rep was but I bet it was Ariel 'cause you just know that now she has legs, she's a total bitch about dress codes.

This year Mr. Rugani wasn't taking any chances and everyone's clothing had to be signed off on.
I figured this would be acceptable:

I'm also covered in case the items that left my house, do not arrive in Anaheim in the same condition. Or do not arrive at all.  And if you think I'm joking, you obviously have girls.

Girl Moms:
"She looks just lovely.  So Excited!"
"She did her own hair and her roommates' hair!"
"She even ironed her blouse!"
"She bought souvenirs for the rest of the family!"

Boy Moms:
"Were your pants dragged behind the bus for the entire ride down?"
"Sure, why use a hanger when you can just shove everything under the sink."
"Whose shoes are these? They don't even fit."
"Please tell me you brushed your teeth at least once."

I'm going to see if there's a PUB!

I blame Alice, or as she is also referred to ALLLIIIIICE.  (Everyone in town knows that damn dog's name.)  When going in or out of the house, the dogs run down to the mailbox and sniff around where the neighborhood dogs have been.  Our house is on main corner so we get a lot of dog traffic.  This isn't a problem with Abbey because she's a good girl and comes when called.  Alice is getting better at this but we had an incident last week when I turned around for a second and she was gone.  I found her five houses up, trotting back down the hill.  (John, "At least she was coming home.  That's good."  Me, "Well, she was definitely coming towards the house. Whether or not that was intentional has yet to be determined.")

Now when we leave the house, I keep the garage door closed until Alice is in the car.  A few days ago, as I was leaving to pick up the boys from school, I was standing in the garage trying to determine if the dogs were coming with me or not.  Back and forth, back and forth.  "Jeez! Are you coming or not."  Abbey eventually went back into the house and Alice walked back and forth from the house to the car, trying to decide what to do.  Lord only knows what extremely exciting event she would miss out on by making the wrong choice.  "That's it, you're staying here." I tossed Alice in the house, hit the garage door opener and got in the car.  As I was musing about how much easier my life was when we only had one dog, I backed into the garage door that hadn't completely opened.  I immediately recognized the sound of the car hitting the garage door because it's not the first time that I've heard it.  That's right, this was the second time that I'd backed into an unopened garage door.

shit.

The fist time this happened, we were living in Arizona.  This may not seem relevant to you, but consider this.  If I had backed into the same garage door, I would have to talk to the same garage door repairman.  (Hello, Greg.  It's Dumbshit here. How are the kids? Good. Good.  Gonna need your help again....) So anyway, the first time I completely panicked.  I heard the cruuunch, stomped on the brake, slammed the car into drive and plowed forward into the work bench.  Oh, good, now that's broken too.  My work here is done.  This time I was much calmer.  I stomped on the brakes and started swearing.  If I'd had only waited a few more seconds, the door would have been opened far enough to get the car out so I would have only needed John to come home and look at the door.  As it was, I needed him to pick up the kids and then come home to look at the door.

Since the previous night we had been talking about doing a Galaxy Quest cosplay at ComicCon this summer, Sam naturally walked into the house and said, "You broke the house! You broke the bloody house!" to which I replied, "Must you hit Every. Single. One. of them?"

Good news, John got the door back on it's tracks with nothing but a hammer and a dream.
Bad news, the engine burned out in the process.
BAM BAM BAM
whrr whrrr
BAM BAM BAM
whrr whrrr
BAM BAM BAM
whrr whrrr
BAM BAM BAM
whrr whrrr
BAM BAM BAM
whrr whrrr
BAM BAM BAM
w...w...w smoke smoke smoke

shit.
AALLLIIIIICE!!!
This is coming out of your allowance!

I gave up Alcohol for Lent

Well, that's not exactly true.  I don't drink hard alcohol or beer so I really gave up wine for Lent.  Of course I don't drink red wine so I guess I gave up white wine for Lent.  But then there are a lot of white wines that I don't drink so technically I gave up Chardonnay for Lent.  There, I gave up Chardonnay for Lent.  Now, when you tell people that you gave up Chardonnay for Lent, they give you a look that says, "Really? That doesn't sound like much of a sacrifice."  And they're quite right.  It isn't a sacrifice.  It's a SAAAC RIII FIIIIIIIIIIIIIICE.

17 1/2 days to go.

But who's counting.

Remember to Hydrate

Went to the gym this morning and found this in the parking lot.

I found my new workout buddy.

Unless it's the blond chick running backwards on the trend mill.  No one likes a show-off, Blondie.

Book Challenge - Not for the Faint of Heart

This is getting more challenging.  In the last two books that I have read; well, the last book and the current book; the characters each have two names.  Not two word names like Barbara Ann but two completely different names like Owen Quine and Bombyx.  The first book involved a bunch of characters and a manuscript containing their alter egos.  There were around 10 characters with 2 names each so I had to make a cheat sheet so I could keep them straight.

The book I'm currently reading takes place during and after World War II.  There are two British characters who are hiding out with German names and there are German characters with German names along with German military ranks and nicknames that the British dudes have given them.  That was during the war.  Now after the war, the German dudes are hiding out under different German names while referring back to their old German names.  And we all know how smoothly German names and ranks roll off the tongue.  Obersturmbannfuhrer Gerhart Peuckert . Fuck me.

Before my biggest problem with character names arose was when authors used names that were similar to each other.  Jillian Trilby and Julie Teasdale.  Really? For God's sake, this is FICTION.  Pick a different name.

I had to put the current book down because it looks liked one of our British characters, who was hiding out under a German name during the war, had just been giving different German name after the war.  Could we not have just killed him off?  I know he's center to the plot but I stopped caring about him 2 aliases ago.

And to make matters even worse, this is my "Book originally written in a different language" and the danish to english translation is a little sketchy at times.

I'm going to read a nice Dr. Seuss after this.

The story is set in an Insane Asylum.
And it's driving me nuts!

So I got yelled at by the Crossing Guard

There is a four way stop at the corner of the school that is controlled by a crossing guard. I was about to say 'volunteer' but for all I know, she's getting paid. Anyway... I go through it twice each morning, once to drop the boys off and another when I drive away.  This morning I was stopped at the intersection, waiting to make a right hand turn.  (If you live in California, you know that this means that I'm in the bike lane.  That's one of the questions that I missed on the Driver's Test.  When making a right hand turn, what do you NOT do? A, B, C, or D.  Well, it must be 'C' because you never drive in the bike lane.  It's a bike lane. Emphasis on Bike.  WRONG.)  So I'm stopped in the bike lane, waiting for three kids to cross the street.  The crossing guard is standing in the middle of the crosswalk, sporting her reflective vest, sign raised high in the air, whistle in mouth.  When the kids got past her and almost to the curb, my foot came off the brake slightly and the car slowly inched forward for about 2 seconds before I pressed back down on the brake.  The guard turned to me and hollered, "SSSTTTOOOOPPPP"  Now picture me sitting there,  it's 7:45 am, I'm stopped at the crosswalk, elbows on the steering wheel, chin in my hands, I think I was even yawning.  STOP? Stop, what? I was so confused for a split second, then I hollered back, "I KNOOOOOWWW" Good morning to you too. What did she think I was going to do? Make a right hand turn with my forehead? Talk about stupid human tricks....

And to think, not that long ago I was telling myself that I should bring her a Starbucks one morning since she's here everyday, twice a day, even the 3 days that it rained.  Well, you can kiss that latte good-bye, Sister.

"Everything you are doing is bad. I want you to know this."

We've got Spirit, Yes We Do!

So every Friday is spirit day at the boys' middle school.  If they don't have a specific day like Super Hero Day or Crazy Sock Day, then it's a color.  Yellow Day or Pink Day.  Last week it was Blue Day.  As I was dropping the boys off in the morning, a gaggle of girls walked past the car wearing blue t-shirts, blue tights and blue tutus that didn't cover their butts.  It looked like Pedophile Day.

Now I don't have girls so I don't have to deal with any of that stuff but when, exactly, did it become okay to not wear pants??