Weekends Are A Blast!

The weekend started with a blast! My neighbor Daryl blasting 70s music from his car radio that is, and no Daryl to be found. I didn’t see his rusty step van / shuttle craft sitting around, and being from outside of this world Daryl probably got an urgent call from the mother ship. My other theory was that there was a beer festival, or a weirdo convention someplace that he had to rush to. I think I’ll go with the mother ship explanation.

The rest of Saturday was a rollercoaster ride of grocery shopping, the library, little league, and ending with me bringing my boys to sing at a gala charity event. I felt a little under dressed as I watched them perform in my shorts, and sweaty T-shirt but we barely had time to get the boys changed after a baseball game, and unfortunately I was still in my baseball watching duds. They enjoyed singing to the –half paying attention- group of wine sippers, and I’m glad the crowd was drinking it up because their money was going to support autistic kids. I think my boys enjoyed being at the ritzy affair even for a short while, but as we were walking back to the car they inexplicably started bugging me about buying them cake. Fortunately for me in my rush to get them to the event I left my wallet sitting on my desk at home, so no cake today! All I wanted to do is go home and sit down; sometimes kids have to give dad a break.

Sunday started off with the usual Sunday newspaper comics, and a cup-O-Joe. I then move on to other news, like the story about the 40 pound cat. At first I shook my head and then I remembered I had a cat named Bear, he was a mild mannered black cat that was great with kids but had an eating disorder. Other cats would stop eating when they were full but not Bear, that cat could really put away the kibble. One day I actually saw him get stuck in the cat door while he was trying to chase some feline interloper, he made it through the door but it wasn’t pretty. Bear was a hearty cat, and one day I accidentally backed over him with my car! He survived, and I rushed him to the cat emergency room, and after several hundred dollars in X-rays they couldn’t find anything wrong with him. He was a bit crooked for a while but he was OK. I just loved that cat.

“He took your stuff, he took your stuff!” is the sound of Sunday morning in my house. Sundays is when my 12 year old talks to his friend -who is in Sweden- on Skype while they work together in an online game called Minecraft. His 8 year old brother is his cheerleader as he makes his way through the imaginary world they are playing in.

“How much pork do you have? And how many arrows?” he shouts. I take two ibuprofen tablets and decide to do some writing. The sound of a blender mixing waffle batter also enters into the noise.

The words “I’ve got a set of gills too, and guys we are going to have to stay together” echoes in my brain.

“Can you refill my coffee cup?” I ask my lovely spouse as she takes her turn working in the kitchen. I did the dish cleanup to get everything ready for her waffle making.

“No I’m not shooting at you I’m trying to hit the spiders! Oops, sorry I think I hit you with an arrow senior” hit’s my brain.

The timer is set for one more hour and I kick them off of the computer so they can enjoy the beautiful warm spring day, being a cave trolls at the keyboard is not an option. To drown out all of this noise, I have my ear buds in listening to the old 70s group “Heart.” My wife is in Graduate school and has me proofreading her papers, ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz. “Coffee, fill er up stat!” I say as I try and keep my brain from daydreaming about fun things like sandy beaches and drinks with little umbrellas in them while I'm proof reading.

I received a political advertisement for Matthew Robinson on Saturday, and was looking at it Sunday morning. I had compared Matthew to Opie Taylor in “Opie for Congress! And Other Batshit Crazy News!” and was wondering when I would see some of his Koch brothers funded advertisements. When it arrived Saturday I immediately scanned it and sent the picture of Opie –Matthew- to a gentleman named Bob who is making a film. He was searching for a larger picture and this was serendipity. I’m helping to spread the word about the Robinson -whack job- duo and their quest to feed me radiation. The funny thing is that I actually agree with one of his talking points in the flyer. Apparently he believes in only using our military to protect our country in case it’s attacked; which I basically agree with. But, he and papa Robinson also want to balance the budget by cutting out school funding, and putting senior citizens in poverty. I think they have been sampling way too much radioactive waste over at the Robinson household.

Sundays have always been my favorite day of the week, Saturdays are busy but Sundays always seem more peaceful especially when you get to sit outside and read under a big umbrella in the sunshine. In the evening the doors were still open, and a chorus of a thousand and one frogs could be heard emanating from the yard down below. I saw two garter snakes today, and our little dog visited my neighbor next door, not Daryl but Daryl’s buddy, you know the one who threw fish on my roof. She barked at him for a while before crawling under the fence when I called her to come back home. She gave him a good talking to; it’s funny how people seem to get what you deserve sometimes.

The weekend is now over and the kids are in school. Spring has sprung, so I don my tool belt and start swinging my hammer. I have a room to finish, half a house to paint, and endless other things to do. If I see Daryl I’ll let you know, and for some reason I have a feeling he’s up to no good.

My Life in the Zoo

Having a family always leads to the inevitable, your life becoming a zoo.

Did you ever imagine that one day you would wake up and realize you lived in some sort of zoo? I guess it comes with the territory, wife, kids, and then zoo. The kids were the main reason for collecting our Zoo specimens, but I think they are more like one of the exhibits than zoo keepers and anyone who has young boys can attest to this. You feed them with bowls of human chow in the morning, rake out their cage, and wash them so they don’t stink, the standard zoo animal treatment. I will have to admit they’re my favorite animals on display.

So besides the boys, may be asking yourself what other animals are in the zoo? First there is the dog. Did nature really approve of this dog? I’ve got to wonder if the half Pekinese and half Chihuahua was a mistake of nature or daddy was simply a Chihuahua with a stepstool. Regardless how he came to be, this dog of wonder is on the job keeping his house safe from passersby and squirrels. With a yawn and a stretch he starts his day by being tossed outside, the glass door slides open so he can do his business, but he spots two furry seed munchers sitting under the bird feeder eating breakfast. With the speed of a terrier he bounces at the intruders. The squirrels casually head up the nearest tree and chatter at the dog. If you had a squirrel translator you would hear them saying something like “Hey slow poke, my grandma can run faster than you, lead bottom”. Of course it’s all lost on the dog because he doesn’t speak squirrel. He lifts a leg, then wanders back to the door looking to be let in for a little dog chow.

And what about the furry suburban rats that we call squirrels? Do you ever wonder why there are so many of them? We live on the end of a dead end street and cats are everywhere, you would think they would be the perfect snack for a cat. They are plump and fat filled with rodent goodness, very tasty looking morsels for your average house or feral cat. The cats use every stealth tactic in the book. Like little lions on the Savanna they stalk their prey, inch by inch moving closer to the bird feeder where messy finches have knocked lunch on the ground for the squirrels. But what the cats don’t know is that squirrels are Ninjas; they train from the time they are born in their secret lairs in the art of acrobatics and kung fu. They let the cats get close, and when a cat pounces in for the kill our furry rodent friends bust a move that would make Jackie Chan cry. Then up the tree they go, “Your mama was a lead bottomed dog, nice try slow poke.” They chatter. Of course the cats don’t care, they don’t speak squirrel.

Our next exhibit on display are the chickens, in their pen they watch the cat/dog/squirrel spectacle with curiosity. Chickens are descended from the mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex, and having a brain the size of a nut they don’t understand much. They are always looking for a cast away cob of corn, left over sandwich, or yesterday’s salad. You keep your fingers away from the little peckers because your digits look to them as tasty as anything else thrown in the pen, and you know they will try and eat you as soon as they get the chance. And why not, everyone wants to eat them, because after all they taste like chicken.

This leads me to the final exhibit in the zoo, Guinea Pigs. They are the cutest rodents in the animal kingdom, they squeak when they want hay, squeak when they want water, squeak when they want carrots, and squeak when you open the fridge! For the love of ZEUS someone stop all of the incessant squeaking!!!

I slurp some coffee, I’m better now.