Conversation in the van on the way home from pre-school:
Princess: Mom, can we play the Wii when we get home? Mom: After lunch. Princess (excitedly): Did you hear that, Gman? She said "Yes'!!!! Gman: Wait. Settle down. Let's eat lunch first, K? Princess: Then we'll play the Wii! Gman: That's a great plant!
This is Princess's new clock she picked out since her clutzy mother has knocked her old one off the wall several times, bringing it ever closer to the brink of death with every fall, until she internally pulverized the poor thing. The instructions on this clock are even funnier than ABBA's non-directional directions on the lotion. Along with my editorial comments in parentheses:
PRODUCT INSTRUCTIONS: WE CLAIMED THAT THIS TYPE OF CLOCK IS ORDINARY CLOCK, NOT TOYS FOR CHILDREN. (Sounds like they're saying "We told you so")
1. How to Using? 1. Turn off two accessory first 2. Take clock out ( A. The "accessory"? That would be the 2 screws holding the clock onto the packaging. B. These instructions were INSIDE the clock!)
2. How to Hanging? 1. .... 2. Find a truly vertical position on your wall (as opposed to all those horizontal walls? Aren't those called floors?)
3. How to Cleaning? 1. Please be very cautious near the motor and heating elements (Heating elements? Really? In a clock?) 2. .... 3. Never use Gasoline, Benzene or thinner. This will damage the surface. (What the??? Who cleans their house with gasoline? No mention of how dangerous it would be to get gasoline near those 'heating elements'? )
After a few really hectic, tiresome days, life is beginning to return to it's normal level of chaos. The brighter side being that Gman, Craig & I avoided getting the assorted cruds that Al and Princess had.
Not too much by way of funniness, so......from the Brighter Side Vaults. There are several of these billboards between our house and my in-law's house. The same picture has been used over and over on new billboards for this place for the 7 years that I've been coming/going that route. Every time I see it though, I envision the conversation: Child: C'mon Dad! Stop using that! Dad: There's billboards for a hundred miles around all 4 of our stores. It stays. Child: But Dad, my friends are making fun of me! Dad: It's our registered trademark. We're too well known for it now. Child: But Dad, I'm 18 now and none of the girls will go out with me! Dad: Well that just means, some day, when it'll all yours, you won't have to share it.
Princess is stomping down the stairs, fake-crying and saying "Today is the worstest worstest day of my life!" What could drive her to such despair? I wouldn't let her stand at Gman's door and taunt him while he's in a time out for punching her.
Now, I on the other hand can quite legitimately say today is the worstest worstest day for me: Gman had us up on and off for the first half of last night because he kept screaming out in his sleep...apparently his siblings were repeatedly torturing him in his dreams. As soon as he finally settled down...Al's bodily fluids started pouring all over the place at 4am, and Princess's started at 4:20am. Sing with me, to the tune of 12 Days of Christmas:
5 pounds lost by Al in one morning, 4 loads of disgusting laundry, 3 bathroom scrubbings (the same bathroom), 2 grocery store trips, 1 carpet cleaning and $110 dollars in doctor and pharmacy co-paaaaaaaays.
And that only takes us up to 1:30pm! As of about 4:00pm, Gman is beginning to show signs that he too might be getting in on the fun.
Desperately looking for a brighter side: Maybe tomorrow will be the worstest worstest worstest day, making today seem like a day in the park.
A few weeks ago, Ann talked about her first car and it got me reminiscing about mine. Technically, I guess my first car was the banana yellow Gremlin that my father bought for me. I learned to drive stick shift on that one and then refused to drive it ever again. My father swore he'd never buy me another car. I was okay with that. I introduce to you, my beloved "Red Fred," the Plymouth Sapporo. At the time, I insisted on driving a stick shift. I bought him in 1987 or '88 and he was actually 9 or 10 years old, but as you can see, in pretty good condition. He made the drive to Panama City Beach for my Senior Trip the summer of '89. Since I'm sure my mother will probably chime in with this story, I guess I'll beat her to it. I took a corner going too fast once and bent the tie-rod into a pretzel. My punishments: a.) I had to ride the cheese-wagon to school until my father fixed him. b.) I had "assist" my father while he fixed Fred. And he would yell and cuss every time something wouldn't go right.
I used to name my cars, all their names involved their colors.
Blue Jay-- Datsun B-210 (also called "The Stealth B-210 Bomber" by my dad because my mom got pulled over in it for driving after dark without the headlights on)
D'White--Honda of some kind or another
I had a blue Corsica next, but I don't remember it having a name.
Princess and I were walking thru the Wal-Mart parking lot when she noticed all the birds flying around the lettering on the the building. She points to the letters and very excitedly and very LOUDLY says: Look, Mom!!! The birds built a nest in the "A" hole!!!
As my mom eluded to in her comment to the picture of my Aunt Rae shoveling the sidewalk, we had a surprise 60th birthday party for my dad on Sunday.
Today is his actual birthday! My dad is one of the funniest & smartest guys I have ever known. He's a great Dad and grandfather. As my mom will attest, he also set the "husband bar" pretty high. (I had to look for a very long time to find someone for myself who could clear that bar.) This picture is from about 20 years ago. He and my mom were dressed in 1950's attire, I think for a Halloween party.