Tuesday, May 31, 2011
I came home from work and Lloyd met me in the driveway with his keys in one hand and his ginormous bag of pilot crap in the other hand. He hopped in the car as fast as he could, calling over his shoulder, 'Don't be mad when you go in the house; I was really busy today and didn't have time to do anything and I won't be home until te......' And boy, he was SO NOT KIDDING. I would post pictures but I am genuinely afraid of CPS on this one. Here is a partial list of the carnage:
-huge half-gnawed hunks of cheese in multiple locations
-raw egg wrapped in dirty socks inside a graham cracker box stashed behind the recycling bin
-dirty breakfast and lunch dishes on the table
-at LEAST eight pairs of shoes and boots strewn around the living room plus a few singletons
-rat in the compost (outside; it wasn't quite THAT bad)
-two sets of pajamas, soccer clothes and wet, muddy pants on the couch
-box of raisins smashed into the carpet
-twin peaks of laundry blocking the hall, Mt. Dirty and Mt. Clean
I worked for a solid 2.5 hours, which is pretty much unprecedented, and there were still bits of string and chopped up bits of paper on the living room floor, a container of snails on the counter with the lids off and the snails among the missing, school books and supplies covering the dining room table and floor, and rubber bands shaped like fairies and numbers spread up and down the hall. Oh, and a puddle of pee on the back porch.
I don't care what time he gets home, I am meeting him in the driveway with a taser in one hand and a giant beer in the other, and I am so not kidding.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Wow, my kid is so ILLOGICAL. Shane was busy 'making magic' in the bathroom when I called him into the living room to pick up the four thousand tiny pieces of string he had cut up earlier. I TOLD him he was going to have to pick it up when he was doing it, so he shouldn't have been SURPRISED, but somehow he was. String that is purposely cut into many small pieces must be eventually picked up. Everyone knows this, right? It's a clear consequence of flinging string around all willy-nilly. Then, he pitched this huge fit and screamed that he was too tired to pick up the string. So, I told him if he was too tired to pick up the string, then he needed to go to bed. Totally logical and sensible, right? He should have been HAPPY; he got to go to bed and NOT pick up the string. But no, he threw another full on tantrum and ripped his pajamas off. So I told him he could sleep naked. You'd think he would have been happy, since that's what he said he wanted, but no.
Then he wanted me to stay in there with him, but of course I couldn't, because I had to pick up the string. Clearly, if one has to be picking up the mess created by others, one can not also be laying in bed at the same time. Again, he failed to see the utter logic in this and screamed MORE, not less. And that's not the end of the insanity. He began hollering for an imaginary toy. It's a green squeaking toy shaped like a star THAT HE HAS NEITHER OWNED NOR SEEN. EVER. He calls it 'Squeaky' and CANNOT POSSIBLY LIVE WITHOUT IT.
How do people live like this? With this complete and total lack of reason and a propensity to rail ever louder, as if sheer volume will suddenly render an absolutely ridiculous and indefensible position rational. Oh, HOLY HELL. I just realized the intellect of my four year old bears more than a passing resemblance to that of Newt Gingrich. AND that little charmer Michele Bachmann. On the plus side, for me, at least the small boy will grow out of it.
Oh yeah, here is a picture of the 'magic' that was made in the bathroom, and damn if it doesn't remind me of the Ryan budget.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
DUDE! I am so tired of people stealing my brilliant ideas! Here, read this article about breast milk factories, and then LOOK, LOOK! I wrote the italicized post below in SEPTEMBER 2009, YEARS ago! It mentions how I had this great idea for a human milk factory but couldn't find any investors. I bet you guys are all sorry now! I was pretty sure I posted all the details of my plan but I can't find it. The basics were pretty simple: moms with extra milk would go to the factory, and it would have nap rooms, nannies, a thrift store, a grocery store, a library, a post office, a Target, a gym and all the other places moms would like to go but can't because of those damn screaming babies. Then, for each donated ounce, they would earn time to spend in the various amenities after dropping the kids off in the nanny room. Then the factory owner (moi) could sell the milk for a tidy little profit. It IS called liquid gold, after all. Perfect, right? A huge win for everyone. GENIUS! I guess I didn't have to repost the whole thing, but I do love a good Dick Cheney joke. I'm particularly fond of the kitten chomping part. Also it has a link to an entertaining article about out of work pilots.
Did you read the article? No? Maybe you're not as fascinated by breastfeeding issues and politics as I am. Just in case, I'll give you the gist: They totally copied me. OUTRAGEOUS! It's about this fantastic new idea for a HUMAN BREASTMILK FACTORY! There is no justice, I tell you!
September 2, 2009
After a long and distinguished career as an Air Force spouse, I will be retiring in the spring with the
treadmarks from Uncle Sam's boots still on my ass everlasting gratitude of my country and a miniscule small barely adequate if I was a German Sheperd pension. We will be moving to the Puget Sound area, and Lloyd will have to find a job so we have food. Let's face it: no one ever got rich off the military. Except Dick Cheney, of course, and he only eats elderly nuns, crippled children and wide-eyed kittens. I hear he likes the kittens best because he loves to suck the juice out of their eyeballs and spit the skins at the crippled children just before he crunches their bones between his teeth. It's probably just one of those internet rumors, though. Like the one about my stripper pole. Sheesh, don't people have better things to do than make up ridiculous stories and spread them around the internet?
Anyway, Lloyd would like to work as a pilot, but we recently read a stories about these guys, so I'm not sure how well that's going to work out. I mean, only so many pilots can work the street corners in one town before they start having turf wars, right? I can just see them strutting down the sidewalks in their most enticing uniforms, pushing and shoving each other to get to the best prospective employers: 'Hey, Mister! Over here! I'll take you around the world! Satisfaction guaranteed!'
Major economic indicators at Osan (knockoff bag and pirated video sales) are strong and unchanged from the time of our arrival here. Back in Seattle, where the intellectual property theft that drives the economy is lost to the annals of history instead of parading itself on every street corner, apparently the conditions are not quite so rosy, and it might be a while before Lloyd finds a job. Before you get all huffy, yes, I could work and leave Lloyd home with the boys. We did talk about that but we agree that it's better if he works for money instead of me. Plus my main skills these days are tapping and producing milk, and there's not much of a market for those. But there totally SHOULD be. I have an awesome idea for building a human milk factory but I can't seem to find any investors.
In light of our upcoming reality, we are doing some things differently now. We're practicing for the days to come when we have to make Christmas presents out of empty beer cans and tape and play with boogers instead those spendy thrift store toys. We have stopped throwing away diapers after only one use, and for dessert we make the boys lick the old popsicle juice and applesauce spatters off the walls. And I only go to the thrift store on bag sale day. Oh, okay, that one's a lie. I would NEVER skip the thrift store just to save a little money.
But the big exciting change is meal planning. For every day in September, I have plans for both lunch and dinner. Some days I have complete meals figured out but I still have some holes to fill. People claim you can save tons of money on groceries by doing this because you buy just what you need to make your pre-planned meals instead of throwing things willy-nilly into the cart. I'm not sure who these 'people' are but maybe they're on to something here.
I'll keep you posted as September progresses. Tonight is lime cilantro chicken. I have no recipe, but I figure I'll just make one up and enter it in the Pillsbury bake-off contest and win the million dollars. Who knew meal planning could be so lucrative? I just need to incorporate some refrigerated dough of the appropriate brand and come up with a snazzy name. I think 'Island Chicken' has a nice ring to it. I could put it on sticks and bake it with the biscuit dough, sort of like a Cuban corn dog.
That's the news from the kitchen in Korea! And, Lloyd's your man if you're looking for a pilot to take you on a wild trip. In an airplane, I mean.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
I'm back! Did you miss me? Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?? Oh, good! Hi, Helen! Oh, great, there's Janelle and Lauren and Pam, too! Sweet! You guys want to see my vacation pictures? Hey! Where are you going?? Come back here right now! And you have to listen to my boring story, too.
So! We went to Sun Lakes Resort in eastern Washington. The weather was fantastic, after a brutally cold and wet spring here in western Washington. We went at almost the exact same time last year, which you can read about here. There is excellent geology there- channeled scablands from the Glacial Lake Missoula Flood, and miles and miles of Columbia River Basalt. There are marmots galore, and plenty of fish.
Also, there was a redneck wedding in the cabin next to us- I swear, there was a pregnant bride, loud nasally country music way into the night, a bunch of buck-toothed kids in overalls AND a fat guy on a Harley. Oh, and there was THE most monstrous child ever in the swimming pool. And not mine this time! You know how super fair-skinned red-haired people are either attractive (Damian Lewis) or hideous (Carrot Top)? This kid was of the ugly variety, and here is why I hate him:
1. He came up to us the second we got in the pool and demanded we give him our noodles RIGHT NOW;
2. He spit a mouthful of water on me and announced that he didn't like me; and
3. He screamed loudly that his mother wasn't there and no one was watching him.
Is it wrong to call a little kid an asshole? I think I might know why his mother left him alone in the swimming pool. Unless of course he is a lying little asshole and she was just pretending not to know him.
And, on a final note, you can thank Lloyd for the pictures- the camera battery went dead so he went all MacGyver and hooked up the camera batteries to the car battery with a wire coat hanger and charged them up good. You can see instructions for a similar effort here, just in case you're stuck in the wilderness with a dead iphone and need to get on Facebook.