And before I forget....
Merry Christmas from the Dayton Ohio Contingent of the Floyd Clan!
Background:
Nearly 7 months ago the two older girls were frolicking around in the kitchen. Not unusually, one of them lost their balance and fell on the open dishwasher door.
When Mommo and Daddo returned home and found that the dishwasher door now opened far enough to almost hit the floor, they were not pleased.
The next day when the dishwasher was run, water was found seeping out from under it.
More displeasure abounded.
I did a cursory check, but didn't find the root cause.
This was then followed by 7 months of not using the dishwasher. (Mommo had had this idea--later found to be a 'moon-bat crazy idea'-- that this would be a good opportunity to give our kids more hands-on contact with work. Naturally, I agreed with her, and forgot about the dishwasher.)
However, a couple weeks ago Cindy hinted that she wanted to dishwasher back in operation.
She hinted strongly that she would be calling a repairman sometime after Christmas.
While I was still hyperventilating, I managed to pencil in a more comprehensive troubleshooting regimen on my to-do list.
Its turn came up on Christmas Day at about 1 PM. I had pulled out the dishwasher and was running it to see if I could find the source of the leak. (I was guessing it was a cracked frame).
Five minutes after it was started, as I lay on the floor looking for leaks with my flashlight, I got sprayed in the face. There was a tube running along the side of the unit, and I saw that it had been chafed by the hinge and had developed a hole.
5 minutes after that, Plumber's Epoxy (no man's toolkit is complete without it!) and electrician's tape took care of the hole, and then some duct tape was used to keep the tube away from the hinge hardware!
Merry Christmas Cindy! I was so happy to spend five minutes fixing a 7-month-old problem!
(And isn't it a much better gift than a dumb ol' diamond or solid gold gew-gaw?)
We were invited to go sledding today, and we had a great time (especially Cindy, who got to stay home and wrap, etc.), and at some point the following thoughts and images popped into my mind.
The first was....
"This is why she married me....."
...which was followed by....
"But this is why she keeps me!"
Lucky girl!?
Yesterday I got a call from an excited Cameron at work.
Obviously talking while high on adrenaline, he related how he had shot his BB gun at a rabbit in our backyard (about 25 yards away), that it had jumped up about 4 feet in the air, and then hobbled away.
He further said that he had followed the blood trail for a ways, and was going back out to try to find it.
Why?
"Because I want to find it, kill it, skin it, and eat it." (I can only hope that the missing phrase "cook it" was just an oversight....)
In a clinical manner he further explained that based on the color of the blood trail it was probably a lung shot or maybe a neck artery shot.
When I got off work, he had me out looking for it on the hill out back (he had already had Erin and her friend out looking). We never found it. There were rather large bloodstains at the places where the rabbit paused along the way. We are guessing that a hawk got it before we did.
Fast forward to this morning, 7 AM.
Cameron calls out to say he feels sick. He is soon bowing at the porcelain throne.
He returns to his room.
He asks me to look out the window and see if I can see any rabbits.
I look out back and see 2 on the walking path between the hills (about 40 yards from the house.)
I stupidly tell him that I see them.
He scampers downstairs.
I look out 2 minutes later.
He is wearing a coat and shorts (there is snow on the ground--it is probably 28 degrees).
He quietly sneaks back to the hunting zone.
He takes a shot from a long distance.
He misses.
He has the sense of mind to come back in.
He says he plans to relieve the entire area of rabbits.
I say that if he does that there won't be anything left to hunt.
He says that he will leave one.
I say that it takes two to make little baby rabbits.
"Not if the one is gay!" he retorts.
I kindly explain that gay rabbits are even less likely to have babies.
Fortunately his stomach starting hurting again, and he is laying on top of one of heating vent in the computer room, with visions of dead rabbits dancing in his head.
This morning when I walked into the kitchen (6:40 AM), Erin was already sitting at the table in the unlit morning room quietly eating her cereal.
As usual she had on a hoodie jacket (She probably has to peel this off her body after a couple weeks of continuous wear....)
Anyway, as she sat there in the partial darkness I could also see that she had on a dark skirt--she never wears one to school unless it's game day and the coach has a figurative gun to her head--so, in an effort to mold future behavior I complimented her on how nice she looked in her skirt.
She gave me a quizzical look, then grinned and replied,"It's not skirt, it's a towel--my jeans are still not dry yet.'
Thank goodness for the subdued lighting!
Well, Cameron's team lost their game today--and Cameron didn't score any goals either. As he drilled 4 the last game it was a bit of a let-down for him. (A welcome lesson in humility in our view....)
Strangely, even though he didn't score a goal today he wanted ice cream after the game. Fortunately we had some leftovers from the night of the previous game, so the kids combined to finish it off.
Yes, three kids in soccer and 1 in JH volleyball.
Yes, holes in our heads.
Yes, we're keeping busy.
As everyone who sees her knows, Ally loves to hold onto something silky (the object in hand is aptly referred to by her as 'Silky') and pop her right index and middle fingers into her mouth.....(and would it be improper of me to add)....'and she really sucks'??
Anyway, recently we have been asking her what her fingers taste like, and they seem to change flavors on an almost daily basis.
They are often 'chocolate' and other tasty flavors.
Yesterday Cindy asked her the usual question, and she replied, 'Like leaves.'
Cindy commented, 'leaves? But little girls don't eat leaves!'
Allyson replied, 'No, but baby giraffes do. And that's what I am!'
Great. Along with her rotating flavored fingies she also dabbles in shape-shifting!
That would raise the question, if the latter is true, is she a Cylon or a Theilaxu?
Cindy just called to say that our yard is like 'Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom.'
On Sunday morning Cindy was shedding tears over the impending fate of the big, cute raccoon we trapped in the cornpatch. She was heartbroken over what was going to happen to the coon.
But what a difference a couple days make!
Just 10 minutes ago Cameron came rushing into the house, and blurted to Cindy, 'THERE'S A BLACK SNAKE IN OUR YARD!! CAN I SHOOT IT?'
With nary a hesitation, Cindy replied, 'YES!'
By phone I have just been informed that Cameron, David and 2 BB guns have done the trick. The snake has passed on. Yes, the snake is no more. It has ceased to be. It has expired and gone to meet it's maker. It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace. It's kicked the bucket, shuffled off the mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible! It is an ex-snake!
(Bonus points for recognizing the source of the above eulogy.)
Maybe Cameron will skin it and put it on his wall like the rattlesnake skin of the snake he and his cousin killed in CA.....??
From now on, in our family it will be 'A coon in a trap' whenever something not suitable for the Sabbath must be taken care of on a Sunday.....
The pelt is drying nicely.
Cameron is a grinning fool.
Dad learned that there is more than 1 way to skin a coon (but they are all rather distasteful...especially when doing such out in the corn in 90-degree 90% humidity weather.
With apologies to 'Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree'
I looked out the window and what did I see?
A raccoon dangling from a snare in the tree!
Summer has brought me such a nice surprise,
A corn-stealing Mama Coon before my eyes!
I could take a BB and make her bleat,
Too bad she slipped away before she was dead meat!
It wasn’t really so, but we wished she’d be,
A coonskin cap on Camerino’s wall-y.
It was time for Ally to say her prayers before bed, and she pleaded to be able to say them 'in her head.'
I said to her, 'But I want to hear!'
She said, 'Just listen!'
She then assumed the position, said her prayer in silence, and finished (a mere 10 seconds later) with a verbal 'Amen.'
'See!' she said proudly.
Yes, I saw, but I found it hard to listen to silence! (I guess I need to study Zen more?)
Tonight as Cindy was in a quandary about what to fix for dinner, I suggested waffles.
Kenner's face lit up, and when I asked Ally she also nodded and grinned ferociously.
Cindy got out the Bisquick, and I opened a couple cupboards in my search for the waffle iron.
Cindy watched for a second, then felt the need to comment.
'It's been TWO YEARS!' she cooed, her tone edged with the finest Damascus steel. Yeah, I guess we have been in the house that long now.
The sarcasm having sharpened my senses, I said, 'Ahh....it is in one of the cupboards with a shelf that pulls out!'
Rolling her eyes, she turned to Ally and sweetly asked, 'Ally, where is the waffle iron?'
Ally beelined to a lower-level cupboard, opened the door, pulled out the shelf and pointed proudly.
Cindy put out her hand and they exchanged a high-five.
This is kinda how Cindy looked at that moment (in terms of facial expressions only....and in the context of "The Karate Kid" final scene.....)
Ah, the proud look of Mr. MiyaGI!
We have enjoyed wonderful sunny weather the past couple days, and our neighborhood is mimicking a community of bears--everyone is coming out of hibernation and wandering around the neighborhood.
Let me be quick to add that, unlike bears, they are looking for conversation and exercise rather than food.
And yes, one of the older neighbors who shall not be named was out at 5 PM in his PJs--but I think he only walked a lap or two around the block.
I guess the above analogy doesn't hold too well under scrutiny because--at least in my case--it is plainly manifest that I spent more time eating than hibernating over the winter!
I found a good likeness of how I feel--gray hairs, pasty pink skin and all!
Ally has had mild fevers and coughing the past 5 days or so (it's mostly coughing right now), and Cindy called me at work to tell me that Ally had woken up at 7:15 and had walked into our bedroom holding a bottle of Motrin in one hand and a spoon in the other.
That girl knows what she wants!
I pity her husband! (Though at least he'll feel wanted too!)
On Saturday night I took Kenner to dinner and a Father-Daughter dance at the school together with our 2-houses-over neighbor Joe and his daughter Kylie.
I got the best of the bargain though. It was the second-to-last dance before I was able to talk Kenner into actually dancing with me (most of the time the dance floor was covered with little girls running in circles and otherwise roving in madcap girlish packs with all the dads being wallflowers).
And then halfway thru the dance she said her stomach was hurting her (my diagnosis was 'Too many treats--she didn't concur), so that ended that!
Still, I had a hard time getting her out of the gym because the last song was Taylor Swift's 'White Horse.' (If it had been Ally, it would've been an impossible task!)
The other day Ally was busily drawing a picture with her crayons.
Cindy came by and Ally piped out, 'Mom, what color should I use? Red or blue?'
Ally then added in a conspiratorial tone, 'Say red!'
Cindy dutifully answered, 'How about red?'
Ally replied, 'No! I'm already using BLUE!'
I was calling someone tonight to set up an interview--we all know what that means, don't we!--and I walked into the kitchen towards the end of the voicemail message I was leaving.
Being extremely bright, Cindy must've picked up on the gist of the call.
As I turned the phone off she gave me a serious look, and said, 'Hey, you left something out on your message!'
Being not so bright, I replied with concern, "Oh? What?"
'The evil laugh!' she evilly chortled.
I gave her an evil 'Bwah-ha-ha,' which she gave a thumbs-up to, so I guess I'll have to try it out some other time!
I see that the last post was number 666 on this blog.
And it just happened to be about being wicked!
I guess it's a good thing I didn't inadvertently work in the number 144,000 anywhere!
Who knows what I might've started!
Well, maybe, but from what I've been able to tell, 'Wicked' is sheer delight to the womenfolk in our home.
Cindy and I went to see this stage version of a 'chick flick' a week ago Thursday, and though it was quite enjoyable (despite the fact it stars a green-hued lass named 'Elphaba'--Elpheba???!!!) that was just the start.
Cindy now swoons every time she listens to the CD ("It's just like seeing it again!") and prefers it even to Regis and Kelly in the morning. The girls are enchanted too. And now I find myself unconsciously humming some of the songs.
Still, it does get me out of the obligatory annual 'chick-flick' DVD rental date night that all husbands endure. And if she wants to go see another show (she bought these for us (HA!) for a Christmas present) I can just pop in the CD and let her relive it!
Elphaba????!?!??!?!?
Yesterday Allyson called upstairs with the following gem:
"Dad! Makenna is tattle-telling!"
