Wow! It's been a really, really long time. Shortly after I started my blog in the spring of 2008, I landed a job and went straight to work. It's been a whirlwind ever since.
I am glad to be back at my laptop writing! I write almost all of the time - in my head that is - but when I can carve out time to actually translate the thoughts via this keyboard, it's bliss.
The Looney Bin is a great place to be! The youngest looney bird is now five and in pre kindergarten. He has a wonderful teacher and is surrounded by very special friends. We are blessed.
Father Loon is doing well, despite the turbulent flight known as simply "The Economy". His financial institution has weathered many storms. Still, it's been a stressful year. I can tell you ... it's been helpful for all of us to don silly hats and parade around the house to the sound of an update Ray Charles number.
I have not spotted one mouse in our kitchen!
Things have been moving right along at a more comfortable speed than usual. We are loving living la vida looney, and hope that you will visit the Looney Bin frequently. The lava lamp is always on.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Looney Mother with head cold seeks advice ...
It's that time of year. Warm foreheads, runny noses, dry coughs and incessant sneezing. Two for the price of one at the Looney Bin. My son and I are both sick with the crud. As if the feeling of being hit by a mack truck, followed by being left for dead in 5 o'clock traffic isn't enough, I have one more thing to deal with.
My son has learned a few new words at school, and they are not nice words. He has a really close classmate whose big brother regularly spouts off obscenities that I didn't know about until well into my teens.
What am I to do? He's three and a half. We tell him that the words are potty words, and that they are bad choices. We have such a great child. So it's a little disappointing for us to see this happen when we know he's not getting it from us.
I can remember growing up hearing certain words spoken by my oldest sister. I learned by observing the look on my dad's face. It said all I needed to know about what would happen if I dared to utter such words. All in all, I learned a lot about what not to do from my oldest sister. Thanks, kid!
One thing I didn't catch on to very well was that when she told me to do things, or say certain things, that I stood a better chance of flying like Mary Poppins than escaping consequence.
There was the time that our preacher's daughter spent the night with me. We were minding our own business, playing with Barbies, and the big sis dropped in for a visit. She told me that it would be really funny if I called our dad a turd at dinner. She explained that Potsie had called the Fonz one on Happy Days, and that Daddy thought it was sooo funny. She assured me that it would get a really good laugh.
I believed her. That night at dinner, she set it up. When it was time, I said, "No, Daddy. You are not a nerd. You are a turd." You could have heard the record scratch about four miles away.
To this day, I have yet to utter that word again. The consequence was quite effective. So, now I am dealing with little Potty Mouth. His word of choice is booty butt. He uses that one like some people use air. He finds reasons to say it. Of course, we always have the "It's a potty word and we don't say those..." talks. Still, he's got carte blanche membership in the Potty Mouth Club.
So it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me when we were playing with our cat the other day and he uttered a potty word that I didn't even know until I was at least 12. He threw a catnip toy for the cat. She She took off after it, but hit her head on the table in the process. Little looney's reply? "Oh, damn it."
I immediately asked where he heard that word. I tried to play it cool so as not to scare him out of telling me. He told me that he learned it from his teacher. I guess the look on my face conveyed to him that I wasn't buying that one. So he told me that he learned it from his grandfather. No deal. It reminded me of Ralphie, in A Christmas Story, when he uttered the king daddy of potty words. He had heard his dad say the word about ten times a day or so, but when pressured to tell who he heard it from, he blamed a friend. If you've seen the movie, you know what happens next.
It's a little bit different with a toddler. We talked about good choices, bad choices, and how if he hears something and wonders if he can say it, he can always come and talk with us.
You know, it's not the worst thing in the world. There are much harder things to deal with as parents. I just hope that we will remain diligent about coaching him on right and wrong. He's a pleasure to be around, and a very lovable little looney. He strives to please us, to make us happy. And he does make us incredibly happy. This late at night, and on this much prescription medicine, it seems like a battle best set aside for now - and one that really will work itself out. Besides, the little smidge is fast asleep, probably dreaming about Spiderman and all of those villains. Probably calling them booty butts.
My son has learned a few new words at school, and they are not nice words. He has a really close classmate whose big brother regularly spouts off obscenities that I didn't know about until well into my teens.
What am I to do? He's three and a half. We tell him that the words are potty words, and that they are bad choices. We have such a great child. So it's a little disappointing for us to see this happen when we know he's not getting it from us.
I can remember growing up hearing certain words spoken by my oldest sister. I learned by observing the look on my dad's face. It said all I needed to know about what would happen if I dared to utter such words. All in all, I learned a lot about what not to do from my oldest sister. Thanks, kid!
One thing I didn't catch on to very well was that when she told me to do things, or say certain things, that I stood a better chance of flying like Mary Poppins than escaping consequence.
There was the time that our preacher's daughter spent the night with me. We were minding our own business, playing with Barbies, and the big sis dropped in for a visit. She told me that it would be really funny if I called our dad a turd at dinner. She explained that Potsie had called the Fonz one on Happy Days, and that Daddy thought it was sooo funny. She assured me that it would get a really good laugh.
I believed her. That night at dinner, she set it up. When it was time, I said, "No, Daddy. You are not a nerd. You are a turd." You could have heard the record scratch about four miles away.
To this day, I have yet to utter that word again. The consequence was quite effective. So, now I am dealing with little Potty Mouth. His word of choice is booty butt. He uses that one like some people use air. He finds reasons to say it. Of course, we always have the "It's a potty word and we don't say those..." talks. Still, he's got carte blanche membership in the Potty Mouth Club.
So it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me when we were playing with our cat the other day and he uttered a potty word that I didn't even know until I was at least 12. He threw a catnip toy for the cat. She She took off after it, but hit her head on the table in the process. Little looney's reply? "Oh, damn it."
I immediately asked where he heard that word. I tried to play it cool so as not to scare him out of telling me. He told me that he learned it from his teacher. I guess the look on my face conveyed to him that I wasn't buying that one. So he told me that he learned it from his grandfather. No deal. It reminded me of Ralphie, in A Christmas Story, when he uttered the king daddy of potty words. He had heard his dad say the word about ten times a day or so, but when pressured to tell who he heard it from, he blamed a friend. If you've seen the movie, you know what happens next.
It's a little bit different with a toddler. We talked about good choices, bad choices, and how if he hears something and wonders if he can say it, he can always come and talk with us.
You know, it's not the worst thing in the world. There are much harder things to deal with as parents. I just hope that we will remain diligent about coaching him on right and wrong. He's a pleasure to be around, and a very lovable little looney. He strives to please us, to make us happy. And he does make us incredibly happy. This late at night, and on this much prescription medicine, it seems like a battle best set aside for now - and one that really will work itself out. Besides, the little smidge is fast asleep, probably dreaming about Spiderman and all of those villains. Probably calling them booty butts.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Garlic & Herb Tomatoes
This is one of the best recipes I have ever come upon - I have been wanting share it with everyone! I debuted my first batch on Easter Sunday. It was an instant hit. Hope you will enjoy. Hope it's ok to publish this ... I don't think that Barefoot will mind.
Garlic & Herb Tomatoes
(from Barefoot Contessa at Home by Ina Garten)
3 TBSP good olive oil
2 TBSP minced garlic (2 cloves)
2 pints cherry tomatoes or grape tomatoes
2 TBSP each: chopped fresh basil and chopped fresh parsley
2 tsp chopped fresh thyme leaves
1 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
Heat the olive oil in a saute pan that is large enough to hold all tomatoes in one layer. Add garlic to the oil and cook over medium heat for about 30 seconds. Add tomatoes and rest of ingredients - cook for 5 to 7 minutes, tossing occasionally, until tomatoes begin to lose their firm round shape. You may garnish with additional basil and parsley before serving.
Looney Tips:
*leftovers are delicious just scooped into a bowl and garnished with mozzerella cheese. I had this for lunch twice the week after Easter.
*you can also chop up leftovers and add to a pizza - simply YUMMY!
*I have done this recipe using fresh herbs as well as bottled herbs: opt for fresh if you have the chop time.
*would be a great as a pick up at a party - just skewer 2-3 on toothpicks!
Enjoy!
Garlic & Herb Tomatoes
(from Barefoot Contessa at Home by Ina Garten)
3 TBSP good olive oil
2 TBSP minced garlic (2 cloves)
2 pints cherry tomatoes or grape tomatoes
2 TBSP each: chopped fresh basil and chopped fresh parsley
2 tsp chopped fresh thyme leaves
1 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
Heat the olive oil in a saute pan that is large enough to hold all tomatoes in one layer. Add garlic to the oil and cook over medium heat for about 30 seconds. Add tomatoes and rest of ingredients - cook for 5 to 7 minutes, tossing occasionally, until tomatoes begin to lose their firm round shape. You may garnish with additional basil and parsley before serving.
Looney Tips:
*leftovers are delicious just scooped into a bowl and garnished with mozzerella cheese. I had this for lunch twice the week after Easter.
*you can also chop up leftovers and add to a pizza - simply YUMMY!
*I have done this recipe using fresh herbs as well as bottled herbs: opt for fresh if you have the chop time.
*would be a great as a pick up at a party - just skewer 2-3 on toothpicks!
Enjoy!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Globby Goo
The weather outside is anything but frightful! The sun is brightly shining. There is a wonderful, cool breeze in the air. It's springtime and just beautiful outside.
We have been very busy here at LooneyBin Central. Each day brings exciting gifts, like the wet kiss that I received on my nose this morning (what a way to wake up). That kiss was followed by placement of a Spiderman sticker on my right earlobe: Look, Mommy - an earring. Exciting gifts ... like say, the sticky, globby goo that I just discovered in my purse as I reached in for my keys. This glob is unidentifiable, which in itself is cause for alarm.
See ... my son attends a school that while very clean, organized, and well-managed, is not without germs ---- lots of germs. It's just life, right? Seems like every time we arrive to collect him as well as all of his belongings (nap pad, blanket, backpack) that he insists on taking home on a daily basis and not leaving in the nicely decorated cubby that has been provided for the items - there's a new sign on the front door:
"We have a case of RSV"
"We have discovered a case of the flu"
"We have two cases of walking pneumonia"
"Please remember that it's flu and cold season" (I ask you - does this season ever end at a school or daycare????)
"No crocs allowed - shoes must be closed toe"
Being the mild germophobe that I am, it's always a little concerning for me (where are my chocolate chips at a time like this?). I have been known to seek out the Director and ask, in a very worried/don't really want to know the answer but need to find out voice, "Is it in my son's room?" Most of the time, the details of the posted sign do not pertain to his room.
Just last week, I had a lunch meeting with someone who happens to know one of my dearest friends. He told me that her child has lice. I shuttered at the thought. What a nightmare! Germs everywhere - bugs in her precious head - and even moreover ... would her classmates tease her? I was somewhat relieved to find out that half of the class has head lice, so if the other half feels compelled to tease, God bless them.
So - it should come as no surprise to you that with my luck, just such a sign would be posted at the front door of our school - and it was. Just two days later. This time, the details were in all caps:
"WE HAVE SEVERAL REPORTED CASES OF HEAD LICE AND ARE EVALUATING EACH AND EVERY ROOM TO ENSURE THAT THIS DOES NOT BECOME WIDESPREAD THROUGHOUT THE CENTER. PLEASE, DO NOT PANIC. HEAD LICE IS TREATABLE".
Treatable, yes. A pain in the wazzoo, definitely. I've heard the stories. Why can't it be stomach bug? Anything, anything but head lice. So once again, I have found myself at the front counter, asking in that trembly voice. And once again, it's not in his room. Still, I feel for the parents who will spend the next 48 hours scrubbing counters, chairs, washing linens, using those weird dougnut circle things on the heads of screaming children. Oh the joy. That would send me directly to the chocolate chip section in the store, and I would think nothing of stopping by the milk area, collecting a chocolate milk, popping it open, and marrying it with a handful of chips.
Ah, parenthood. Complete and utter bliss. It really is. It's full of mostly ups, but there are occasional downs. Proud moments, curveballs, illnesses, celebrations, milestones. It's the best job going! I am very thankful to have such a wonderfully looney life. Never a dull moment here. And very thankful that the goobly gobs of goo are in my purse, and not on little looney's head.
We have been very busy here at LooneyBin Central. Each day brings exciting gifts, like the wet kiss that I received on my nose this morning (what a way to wake up). That kiss was followed by placement of a Spiderman sticker on my right earlobe: Look, Mommy - an earring. Exciting gifts ... like say, the sticky, globby goo that I just discovered in my purse as I reached in for my keys. This glob is unidentifiable, which in itself is cause for alarm.
See ... my son attends a school that while very clean, organized, and well-managed, is not without germs ---- lots of germs. It's just life, right? Seems like every time we arrive to collect him as well as all of his belongings (nap pad, blanket, backpack) that he insists on taking home on a daily basis and not leaving in the nicely decorated cubby that has been provided for the items - there's a new sign on the front door:
"We have a case of RSV"
"We have discovered a case of the flu"
"We have two cases of walking pneumonia"
"Please remember that it's flu and cold season" (I ask you - does this season ever end at a school or daycare????)
"No crocs allowed - shoes must be closed toe"
Being the mild germophobe that I am, it's always a little concerning for me (where are my chocolate chips at a time like this?). I have been known to seek out the Director and ask, in a very worried/don't really want to know the answer but need to find out voice, "Is it in my son's room?" Most of the time, the details of the posted sign do not pertain to his room.
Just last week, I had a lunch meeting with someone who happens to know one of my dearest friends. He told me that her child has lice. I shuttered at the thought. What a nightmare! Germs everywhere - bugs in her precious head - and even moreover ... would her classmates tease her? I was somewhat relieved to find out that half of the class has head lice, so if the other half feels compelled to tease, God bless them.
So - it should come as no surprise to you that with my luck, just such a sign would be posted at the front door of our school - and it was. Just two days later. This time, the details were in all caps:
"WE HAVE SEVERAL REPORTED CASES OF HEAD LICE AND ARE EVALUATING EACH AND EVERY ROOM TO ENSURE THAT THIS DOES NOT BECOME WIDESPREAD THROUGHOUT THE CENTER. PLEASE, DO NOT PANIC. HEAD LICE IS TREATABLE".
Treatable, yes. A pain in the wazzoo, definitely. I've heard the stories. Why can't it be stomach bug? Anything, anything but head lice. So once again, I have found myself at the front counter, asking in that trembly voice. And once again, it's not in his room. Still, I feel for the parents who will spend the next 48 hours scrubbing counters, chairs, washing linens, using those weird dougnut circle things on the heads of screaming children. Oh the joy. That would send me directly to the chocolate chip section in the store, and I would think nothing of stopping by the milk area, collecting a chocolate milk, popping it open, and marrying it with a handful of chips.
Ah, parenthood. Complete and utter bliss. It really is. It's full of mostly ups, but there are occasional downs. Proud moments, curveballs, illnesses, celebrations, milestones. It's the best job going! I am very thankful to have such a wonderfully looney life. Never a dull moment here. And very thankful that the goobly gobs of goo are in my purse, and not on little looney's head.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Turbo Tax ...
I don't even have the words. I just don't.
December 2009. An update:
I am laughing hysterically as I read this post! I can remember exactly what was going on. I attempted to once again file our taxes via Turbo Tax, and ran into a glitch with the software. Hours and hours were spent to no avail. It was a horrible experience, and I ended up using what I was able to print out as cat litter liner. I really showed them, didn't I?
December 2009. An update:
I am laughing hysterically as I read this post! I can remember exactly what was going on. I attempted to once again file our taxes via Turbo Tax, and ran into a glitch with the software. Hours and hours were spent to no avail. It was a horrible experience, and I ended up using what I was able to print out as cat litter liner. I really showed them, didn't I?
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Goodbye, Mr. Chip!
There comes a time in every overworked, undermassaged, round around the edges super soccer mom's life when, standing in front of your cluttered bathroom sink, you manage to wipe just enough leftover mascara off of your face so that you can see yourself in the mirror.
OUCH!!!! What happened here? Who shimmied into this Looney Bin and injected all of this fat onto my thighs? How did I get from the slim fit jeans to those relaxed fit ones? What is this mass beneath my chin? My first chin?
It's no secret. I recently turned the big FOUR-O! And yes, I am still accepting calls from well-wishers, as well as: spa certificates, cards, movie passes, celebratory lunches, cookbooks, upgrades to my ADT system so as to keep all felons and criminal mice at bay. And not to be cliche, as if it's New Year's and time for that string of resolutions that just won't see Groundhog Day .... but - it's a milestone in my life and I have been taking stock of things. I have resolved to do/try/see/experience forty things that I have not done before (or haven't done well ... or in while). Create a blog: check! Try yoga: check! (Painful). One biggy is to get back into shape -- longterm, healthy shape. And in order to do this successfully, I recently came to the realization that I would have to purge, big time purge - painful, separation anxiety purge in several areas of my life, namely the food area.
FOOD PURGE: Have you ever seen the movie "The Mirror Has Two Faces?" Barbra Streisand's character is a habitual snacker, the type who hides treats all over her house so that she can easily grab something when she needs a fix. Now I am not this bad. However, I have been known to use all but a small handful of chocolate chips for a cookie recipe ... then place the others a a safe place in the event that I need some chocolate for coping or medicinal reasons. Additionally, I am not above buying a box of Cheese Nips, letting my son have some for snack, and then taking them to my bedroom while I am 'cleaning' ............... ??????? Other ole' reliables include the occasional handful of walnuts -- not bad untiil you add the can of coke that is used to help get them down.
What a huge task ahead of me! And so it began. I set the purge into motion. In the pantry, I quickly discovered not one, not two, but three boxes of very stale honey grahams. I have long thought that by buying these somewhat tasty but not really fun crackers that I would take care of two needs at once (sweet and crunchy) without buying what I really wanted ... a lifetime supply of peanut M& M's.
So out they went. Too stale even for the migrating geese in our back yard, who my father-in-law says don't really migrate anymore ............ ???????
Next, I found my chocolate chip stash. Seven bags of small handfuls, enough to make a cookie recipe and start a new stash! I put them aside, all the while hearing my husband's voice, "When is the best time to do something?" This, for me, would be like separating the Pope from the Vatican. I had to put this on hold.
Ah ha! FRIDGE PURGE: This would be easy. We had just been through a weekend where our power was off for almost twelve hours, so the fridge and freezer were pretty much empty. But in one corner, tucked away and almost screaming "DON'T WASTE ME" was a Tupperware container of homemade caramel frosting. Why this was saved and not placed on the cake with the rest of the recipe is beyond me. After trying to rationalize the nutritional and medicinal value of this sugary triumph, I tossed the contents into the trash, then ran some soapy water over the container, but not until I scraped the sides. What? That would have been like pouring glue in my disposal.
During the fridge purge, a great friend called to wish me Happy Birthday and invite me out for birthday lunch. When I told her what I was doing, she began offering advice on all things healthy: food, exercise, nutrition, skincare. AS IF! I would never take advice from someone so thin and sickeningly gorgeous whose photo appears next to the definition of twiggy in the dictionary. I certainly think not!
My conversation with Toothpick led me right to the chocolate chips that I had tabled earlier in the project. There. That was easy. I was able to reduce my stash by half. The glass was now half empty!
CABLE PURGE: I had been in front of the TV entirely too much lately and had saved several TV sections from the newspapers. I had to take action. I collected all of the remotes, even those highly prized by my husband, wiped each one off, put them all back in the remote holding area, and tossed the TV sections in the trash. Cable purge complete.
PURGE, ETC: Not really a purge, but a call to action. I resumed workouts at Hourglass, which by the way, is an awesome place to work out. I also initiated afternoon walks with my son. This made him happy and has made me a little happier when I look in the mirror.
Two days after the initial purge, I returned to the pantry to get something for dinner. There they were. The remaining bags of chocolate chips. They were not hurting anyone. Just sitting there with smiles on their little faces, delighted to see me. With determination on my part that amazed even me, I picked up each bag and tossed them, one by one, into the trash. I felt as if I was ditching an old friend ...just tossing him by the way side. But, when I thought about my way (big) side, I knew this was the right decision. Ah, Mr. Chip, my dear ole' buddy. We've been through a lot together. I could almost hear Kenny Rogers .... "Through the years............"
Later that evening, Toothpick called to change our lunch plan to a luncheon date at her thin house. She was beside herself! Pleased as punch! She had created a menu that would celebrate my decision to reintroduce healthy eating and exercise to my life. She had discovered a recipe for something that she promised would be the end-all, be-all snack, the George Clooney of snacks! The creme de la creme!
So I drove to Toothpick Lane, lunched with Toothpick, and unwrapped my birthday present, a box full of this must-have snack.
Goodbye, Mr. Chip.
Ola Senor Jalapeno Rice Cake.
OUCH!!!! What happened here? Who shimmied into this Looney Bin and injected all of this fat onto my thighs? How did I get from the slim fit jeans to those relaxed fit ones? What is this mass beneath my chin? My first chin?
It's no secret. I recently turned the big FOUR-O! And yes, I am still accepting calls from well-wishers, as well as: spa certificates, cards, movie passes, celebratory lunches, cookbooks, upgrades to my ADT system so as to keep all felons and criminal mice at bay. And not to be cliche, as if it's New Year's and time for that string of resolutions that just won't see Groundhog Day .... but - it's a milestone in my life and I have been taking stock of things. I have resolved to do/try/see/experience forty things that I have not done before (or haven't done well ... or in while). Create a blog: check! Try yoga: check! (Painful). One biggy is to get back into shape -- longterm, healthy shape. And in order to do this successfully, I recently came to the realization that I would have to purge, big time purge - painful, separation anxiety purge in several areas of my life, namely the food area.
FOOD PURGE: Have you ever seen the movie "The Mirror Has Two Faces?" Barbra Streisand's character is a habitual snacker, the type who hides treats all over her house so that she can easily grab something when she needs a fix. Now I am not this bad. However, I have been known to use all but a small handful of chocolate chips for a cookie recipe ... then place the others a a safe place in the event that I need some chocolate for coping or medicinal reasons. Additionally, I am not above buying a box of Cheese Nips, letting my son have some for snack, and then taking them to my bedroom while I am 'cleaning' ............... ??????? Other ole' reliables include the occasional handful of walnuts -- not bad untiil you add the can of coke that is used to help get them down.
What a huge task ahead of me! And so it began. I set the purge into motion. In the pantry, I quickly discovered not one, not two, but three boxes of very stale honey grahams. I have long thought that by buying these somewhat tasty but not really fun crackers that I would take care of two needs at once (sweet and crunchy) without buying what I really wanted ... a lifetime supply of peanut M& M's.
So out they went. Too stale even for the migrating geese in our back yard, who my father-in-law says don't really migrate anymore ............ ???????
Next, I found my chocolate chip stash. Seven bags of small handfuls, enough to make a cookie recipe and start a new stash! I put them aside, all the while hearing my husband's voice, "When is the best time to do something?" This, for me, would be like separating the Pope from the Vatican. I had to put this on hold.
Ah ha! FRIDGE PURGE: This would be easy. We had just been through a weekend where our power was off for almost twelve hours, so the fridge and freezer were pretty much empty. But in one corner, tucked away and almost screaming "DON'T WASTE ME" was a Tupperware container of homemade caramel frosting. Why this was saved and not placed on the cake with the rest of the recipe is beyond me. After trying to rationalize the nutritional and medicinal value of this sugary triumph, I tossed the contents into the trash, then ran some soapy water over the container, but not until I scraped the sides. What? That would have been like pouring glue in my disposal.
During the fridge purge, a great friend called to wish me Happy Birthday and invite me out for birthday lunch. When I told her what I was doing, she began offering advice on all things healthy: food, exercise, nutrition, skincare. AS IF! I would never take advice from someone so thin and sickeningly gorgeous whose photo appears next to the definition of twiggy in the dictionary. I certainly think not!
My conversation with Toothpick led me right to the chocolate chips that I had tabled earlier in the project. There. That was easy. I was able to reduce my stash by half. The glass was now half empty!
CABLE PURGE: I had been in front of the TV entirely too much lately and had saved several TV sections from the newspapers. I had to take action. I collected all of the remotes, even those highly prized by my husband, wiped each one off, put them all back in the remote holding area, and tossed the TV sections in the trash. Cable purge complete.
PURGE, ETC: Not really a purge, but a call to action. I resumed workouts at Hourglass, which by the way, is an awesome place to work out. I also initiated afternoon walks with my son. This made him happy and has made me a little happier when I look in the mirror.
Two days after the initial purge, I returned to the pantry to get something for dinner. There they were. The remaining bags of chocolate chips. They were not hurting anyone. Just sitting there with smiles on their little faces, delighted to see me. With determination on my part that amazed even me, I picked up each bag and tossed them, one by one, into the trash. I felt as if I was ditching an old friend ...just tossing him by the way side. But, when I thought about my way (big) side, I knew this was the right decision. Ah, Mr. Chip, my dear ole' buddy. We've been through a lot together. I could almost hear Kenny Rogers .... "Through the years............"
Later that evening, Toothpick called to change our lunch plan to a luncheon date at her thin house. She was beside herself! Pleased as punch! She had created a menu that would celebrate my decision to reintroduce healthy eating and exercise to my life. She had discovered a recipe for something that she promised would be the end-all, be-all snack, the George Clooney of snacks! The creme de la creme!
So I drove to Toothpick Lane, lunched with Toothpick, and unwrapped my birthday present, a box full of this must-have snack.
Goodbye, Mr. Chip.
Ola Senor Jalapeno Rice Cake.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
There's a mouse in my Looney Bin!
Do you ever wonder if you are crazy ... just bonkers ... and everyone has known it for eons? Do you ever experience something that, once it's over, forces you to see yourself from OUTSIDE of yourself in a way that frightens you to be yourself?
I am known in certain circles as someone who hears a boogey man outside of the house. There has been occasion when I have been dead certain that someone was in our attic, moving around up there, just waiting to jump through the crawl space and pounce on us like a jungle cat - tear us to smithereens - and then make off with all of our antiques ... you know, the VHS tapes, our typewriter, the touch tone phone with the big numbers.
Very recently, I was awakened out of a not so deep sleep to realize that just such an intruder was amongst us. I heard what could have very well been the sound of someone tapping away at a door lock - lightly so as not to be discovered. The volume and frequency of the noise grew simultaneously, like the swelling of that scary music in all horror films. I, wide-eyed and fully awake, looked to my immediate right for support. There he was, the bravest knight in all of Chatham (County, that is). I knew that he would save the day! Or, at least the middle of the night.
Soon, there was a symphony of various sounds, all meshed together. The knight's snoring was well-representative of the brass section, with long, trumpety type notes bathed in head cold congestion.
No help there. I would have to brave this habitual felon all by myself. I braced myself for confrontation. I tiptoed with the grace of a ballerina down the hall. My family has called me Grace for years. They recognize my ability to get up from a seated position and sail across a room, breaking furniture, toes ...... Grace.
I quickly checked on our young Looney Bin resident. He was fast asleep, dreaming of Spiderman escapades and a lifetime supply of chocolate. I returned to the kitchen area of the house. As I approached a possible crime scene, the noise stopped. That assured me that not only was someone or something in our house, but this intruder knew that I was there as well. All quiet on the Looney front.
Blip, blip! Bup bup bup! I heard it plain as day. The frequency increased - the brass section in the bedroom, now accompanied by the wind section, louder. The sounds were too much. I bravely turned on the kitchen light and presented myself. No shadow at the back door, thank goodness. Not an intruder in sight. But the noise ... that noise. Then I realized that there was, in fact, an intruder: A RODENT! My neighbor had just told me that she woke up one night to find a mouse sprinting across her bed. I had been on red alert ever since. Visions of mice crawling on little looney as he slept raced through my mind. Now, I was faced with a real-life mouse scenario, and would have to capture this pest and get rid of it by myself.
I grabbed a weapon. Isn't that what they always do in those cheesy horror movies? No butcher knife here. I went for the wooden spoon. It had served me well in the kitchen for years. Together, we had created masterpieces. Together again, we would prevail!
My impressive powers of deduction led me to conclude that the noise was contained in the kitchen sink. This would be tricky. If there was a mouse wedged in the drain pipe, that would require a plumber. Still, I had to investigate and at least try to remove this red-eyed, weasley pest. I was reminded of Lady and the Tramp, where a nasty rat got into the nursery when Jim Dear and Darling were away on a trip. Tramp saved the day by getting into a rough and tumble with the rabid varmant and chasing it away, all the while protecting the defenseless baby. This was a lightbulb moment for me!
One of our Looney Bin residents is an 11 year-old cat. I have seen her pounce on those cat nip mice like there is no tomorrow. Where was she? I would enlist her services right away.
I have defended her for years to the looney banker in the house, who has long teased me about the fact that she doesn't pull her weight, doesn't contribute to the household. She is security. She's perfect pest control. Once, just as I was stating that she provides free pest control, a roach flew from one side of the room to the other. I had made my argument well, providing the amount annually that we were saving by having such a fierce pest control cat in our house. Just as the roach glided over her head, she bolted ... ran ... darted out of the room like a gray cannon.
On this night, it was no different. She heard the noise, but resumed her sprawled position on the bed. I went and retrieved her, hoping that some sort of feline hunting instinct would kick in. I put her on the counter, next to the sink. She sniffed the sink area a few times. I was so proud. I would have new examples of how she had earned her keep. But as soon as the bip bip bup bup noise resumed, she was gone.
It was me and me alone. I would rescue the rodent from the drain pipe and release him. I would be a hero. I would be in the ranks with our other neighbor, who cuts the grass at her house. Normally I balk about how bad she makes the rest of us girls look. But now? We would be on even playing ground. This really was man's work, but I would do it and it would be the talk of the street!
I grabbed the wooden spoon and also collected some tongs. In case you didn't know it, tongs are a universal tool. Tongs can remove items toilets - items placed there by toddlers. Tongs can be used to reach otherwise out of reach items - items thrown up high by toddlers. Tongs come in handy when things need to be rescued from under the refrigerator - things put under there by toddlers. Tongs! Tongs! Tongs!
A mouse had dared to come into my house, where a looney toddler slept. What was this mouse looking for? Not cheese. Everyone says that. Mice take much more valuable things when they break in. If you don't believe me, just pop in Cinderella or Ratatouille.
I heard mumbling from the bedroom. My protector, the head of the household. was having a meeting with someone about the prime rate. That's wonderful. A deadly, rabinous creature is looming and he's back there saving the financial industry in his dreams.
I looked under the sink, wooden spoon in hand. I tapped the drain several times. The noise stopped. Maybe the noise I was making had scared him away? Maybe the banging scared him so bad that he suffered a fatal heart attack in the pipe and was now deceased? That would be great, because my son would insist on having a funeral for him. We would get all dressed up and sing Silent Night, just as we had done for the spider that died in our house. That spider was smashed to smithereens with a size 10 Spiderman tennis shoe. Didn't stand a chance.
If the mouse did perish, there would soon be a foul stinch in the area. They die fast. They smell faster. I would have to plug my nose with cotton balls due to the foul stinch that would ensue. When your family calls you Nostrildamus, predictor of scents both strange and familiar, you take the necessary precautions.
I stood up. I had not turned on the water yet. I would flush him out. I turned on the sink and ran the hottest water I could run. I took a moment to peruse the fridge for a snack. I needed energy. Perhaps a slice of cheese? I decided that drowning a mouse would be cruel. I turned the water off. Just as I turned around, the bip bip, bup bup noise resumed. But this time, I noticed a visual component. Water was collecting in the little slits of the drain. Little bubbles. Bip bubbles. Bup bubbles. How could the mouse have orchestrated this?
As I took a step backward, cashed in a little bit of the logic that chics are allowed (you know we are the feelings types, right?), I realized that I had walked the looney plank and had jumped right into crazy! What kind of fool would travel down a road filled with malicious rodent predators intent on robbing us blind, sucking the breath from out toddler (or is that still rumored to be a cat thing), and leaving unscathed?
I returned the wooden spoon and tongs to their resting places. They were relieved. I went and checked on little Looney. All fine there. I made my way to the bedroom. Interest rates, cd's, lock boxes - another meeting of the minds going on. I climbed back into bed next to the protector, next to the cat, who was so much in a trance that she didn't budge when I relocated her so that I could sleep in a straight position, and made a solemn vow never to mention any of it to anyone. Daybreak would be upon us all soon, and it would be time to get up and get the troops moving. Just as I began to drift away, Looney banker turned over and asked me if I caught the mouse. He added that next time, I should let him brave any intruder in the house.
Chivalry, even in the Looney Bin, is not dead. And neither is that mouse!
I am known in certain circles as someone who hears a boogey man outside of the house. There has been occasion when I have been dead certain that someone was in our attic, moving around up there, just waiting to jump through the crawl space and pounce on us like a jungle cat - tear us to smithereens - and then make off with all of our antiques ... you know, the VHS tapes, our typewriter, the touch tone phone with the big numbers.
Very recently, I was awakened out of a not so deep sleep to realize that just such an intruder was amongst us. I heard what could have very well been the sound of someone tapping away at a door lock - lightly so as not to be discovered. The volume and frequency of the noise grew simultaneously, like the swelling of that scary music in all horror films. I, wide-eyed and fully awake, looked to my immediate right for support. There he was, the bravest knight in all of Chatham (County, that is). I knew that he would save the day! Or, at least the middle of the night.
Soon, there was a symphony of various sounds, all meshed together. The knight's snoring was well-representative of the brass section, with long, trumpety type notes bathed in head cold congestion.
No help there. I would have to brave this habitual felon all by myself. I braced myself for confrontation. I tiptoed with the grace of a ballerina down the hall. My family has called me Grace for years. They recognize my ability to get up from a seated position and sail across a room, breaking furniture, toes ...... Grace.
I quickly checked on our young Looney Bin resident. He was fast asleep, dreaming of Spiderman escapades and a lifetime supply of chocolate. I returned to the kitchen area of the house. As I approached a possible crime scene, the noise stopped. That assured me that not only was someone or something in our house, but this intruder knew that I was there as well. All quiet on the Looney front.
Blip, blip! Bup bup bup! I heard it plain as day. The frequency increased - the brass section in the bedroom, now accompanied by the wind section, louder. The sounds were too much. I bravely turned on the kitchen light and presented myself. No shadow at the back door, thank goodness. Not an intruder in sight. But the noise ... that noise. Then I realized that there was, in fact, an intruder: A RODENT! My neighbor had just told me that she woke up one night to find a mouse sprinting across her bed. I had been on red alert ever since. Visions of mice crawling on little looney as he slept raced through my mind. Now, I was faced with a real-life mouse scenario, and would have to capture this pest and get rid of it by myself.
I grabbed a weapon. Isn't that what they always do in those cheesy horror movies? No butcher knife here. I went for the wooden spoon. It had served me well in the kitchen for years. Together, we had created masterpieces. Together again, we would prevail!
My impressive powers of deduction led me to conclude that the noise was contained in the kitchen sink. This would be tricky. If there was a mouse wedged in the drain pipe, that would require a plumber. Still, I had to investigate and at least try to remove this red-eyed, weasley pest. I was reminded of Lady and the Tramp, where a nasty rat got into the nursery when Jim Dear and Darling were away on a trip. Tramp saved the day by getting into a rough and tumble with the rabid varmant and chasing it away, all the while protecting the defenseless baby. This was a lightbulb moment for me!
One of our Looney Bin residents is an 11 year-old cat. I have seen her pounce on those cat nip mice like there is no tomorrow. Where was she? I would enlist her services right away.
I have defended her for years to the looney banker in the house, who has long teased me about the fact that she doesn't pull her weight, doesn't contribute to the household. She is security. She's perfect pest control. Once, just as I was stating that she provides free pest control, a roach flew from one side of the room to the other. I had made my argument well, providing the amount annually that we were saving by having such a fierce pest control cat in our house. Just as the roach glided over her head, she bolted ... ran ... darted out of the room like a gray cannon.
On this night, it was no different. She heard the noise, but resumed her sprawled position on the bed. I went and retrieved her, hoping that some sort of feline hunting instinct would kick in. I put her on the counter, next to the sink. She sniffed the sink area a few times. I was so proud. I would have new examples of how she had earned her keep. But as soon as the bip bip bup bup noise resumed, she was gone.
It was me and me alone. I would rescue the rodent from the drain pipe and release him. I would be a hero. I would be in the ranks with our other neighbor, who cuts the grass at her house. Normally I balk about how bad she makes the rest of us girls look. But now? We would be on even playing ground. This really was man's work, but I would do it and it would be the talk of the street!
I grabbed the wooden spoon and also collected some tongs. In case you didn't know it, tongs are a universal tool. Tongs can remove items toilets - items placed there by toddlers. Tongs can be used to reach otherwise out of reach items - items thrown up high by toddlers. Tongs come in handy when things need to be rescued from under the refrigerator - things put under there by toddlers. Tongs! Tongs! Tongs!
A mouse had dared to come into my house, where a looney toddler slept. What was this mouse looking for? Not cheese. Everyone says that. Mice take much more valuable things when they break in. If you don't believe me, just pop in Cinderella or Ratatouille.
I heard mumbling from the bedroom. My protector, the head of the household. was having a meeting with someone about the prime rate. That's wonderful. A deadly, rabinous creature is looming and he's back there saving the financial industry in his dreams.
I looked under the sink, wooden spoon in hand. I tapped the drain several times. The noise stopped. Maybe the noise I was making had scared him away? Maybe the banging scared him so bad that he suffered a fatal heart attack in the pipe and was now deceased? That would be great, because my son would insist on having a funeral for him. We would get all dressed up and sing Silent Night, just as we had done for the spider that died in our house. That spider was smashed to smithereens with a size 10 Spiderman tennis shoe. Didn't stand a chance.
If the mouse did perish, there would soon be a foul stinch in the area. They die fast. They smell faster. I would have to plug my nose with cotton balls due to the foul stinch that would ensue. When your family calls you Nostrildamus, predictor of scents both strange and familiar, you take the necessary precautions.
I stood up. I had not turned on the water yet. I would flush him out. I turned on the sink and ran the hottest water I could run. I took a moment to peruse the fridge for a snack. I needed energy. Perhaps a slice of cheese? I decided that drowning a mouse would be cruel. I turned the water off. Just as I turned around, the bip bip, bup bup noise resumed. But this time, I noticed a visual component. Water was collecting in the little slits of the drain. Little bubbles. Bip bubbles. Bup bubbles. How could the mouse have orchestrated this?
As I took a step backward, cashed in a little bit of the logic that chics are allowed (you know we are the feelings types, right?), I realized that I had walked the looney plank and had jumped right into crazy! What kind of fool would travel down a road filled with malicious rodent predators intent on robbing us blind, sucking the breath from out toddler (or is that still rumored to be a cat thing), and leaving unscathed?
I returned the wooden spoon and tongs to their resting places. They were relieved. I went and checked on little Looney. All fine there. I made my way to the bedroom. Interest rates, cd's, lock boxes - another meeting of the minds going on. I climbed back into bed next to the protector, next to the cat, who was so much in a trance that she didn't budge when I relocated her so that I could sleep in a straight position, and made a solemn vow never to mention any of it to anyone. Daybreak would be upon us all soon, and it would be time to get up and get the troops moving. Just as I began to drift away, Looney banker turned over and asked me if I caught the mouse. He added that next time, I should let him brave any intruder in the house.
Chivalry, even in the Looney Bin, is not dead. And neither is that mouse!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
