Ring, Ring, Ring, Bananaphone

So that ticket I received for talking on the cell phone? The one I finally told The Earner about? $130.

Because I was starting to feel cocky with my little wad of babysitting money and my yarn plans and travel plans and all. That'll take me down a notch. The nerve! having extra money just sitting around.

So I am chastised and haven't used the phone while driving since then. I have pulled over to make a quick call. I have used the phone while sitting in parking lots before driving away, and I have instructed the 10 year old "take this phone, dial so-and-so, and tell them..."
She follows along remarkably well. I think she could have a career ahead of her in the secretarial arts.




A friend of mine has a 2 year old who is coming up allergic to eggs and peanuts and tree nuts. I'm happy to be of assistance, sharing recipes, shortcuts, and safe brands, but she has a situation I don't: older children. Two older children who have had their favorite foods (namely granola bars) for years, and all of a sudden these foods are not allowed in the house. I suggested making them from scratch, but it's just not the same. In some ways I think we are lucky that the Clogger is an only child, due to the accommodations we make. It's hard enough as adults sometimes to not have stuff around, or eliminate major food groups from your diet (dairy, how I miss you!), but for a 4 and 7 year old who've been eating favorite things they're entire young life? and then to suddenly hear that you can no longer have french toast or Honey Nut Cheerios? That's gotta suck.

It never sucks as much as having someone you love sick or constantly in danger of anaphylaxis, though. So it all evens out.

ps. Blogger spellcheck wants "anaphylaxis" to be "influx's", which I find mildly insulting and yet oddly amusing. The other choice is "analogises". wtf?

It's Never Enough

Wow, I guess it has been a while. Much has happened around here, although not much of it terribly interesting. We had the Big Week at the church, getting ready for the mammoth involvement in Town Sale Day in my little borough. Spent the actual Town Sale Day hot and sticky, manning the frozen lemonade machine for the youth ministry fundraiser. I actually skipped out on knitting that afternoon, even though I had plans to make it, simply because I was too hot. A lovely nap in air conditioning and I was ready to take The Earner out for a Father's Day Dinner.


The following day was Father's Day and our annual church picnic in the park. Due to a special anniversary at the parish, we dressed up the picnic with a luau theme and Mass in the park, which was all quite fun. I did the regular 9am Mass at the church, then hustled up to the park to set up and do the music for the park Mass, then spent all day stuffing my face and having fun. I did go off my food plan, purposefully. I knew there would be delicious foods there that I love, and wanted to see if I would feel any different after having NO SUGAR or CARBS for two weeks at that point.


Turns out they bother my stomach. Who knew? I'm more than 3 weeks into this now, and am seeing and feeling some results that are quite nice. I feel motivated.


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I am nearly finished with my clapotis. I carefully calculated how much yarn I would need for the ending pattern, and happily knitted along the main body until I had that much yarn, plus a little extra, remaining. Then I started on the end pattern with my one remaining skein.

I ran out. (anyone NOT see where this was going?) I found more on Ebay. I did not realize that when I got it on sale, it was a terrific sale, at a quarter of the original price. Sticker shock, anyone? It will be finished this week, and then I just need to figure out how to weave in those silly ends. They're not cooperating.


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I have pain. Not the physical kind, but the pain of losing a son, rolled in with the pain of our family size staying at one living child. It's not every day any more, and it's no where near as crippling as it used to be, but it's there. I have learned that it's best to let it come on in waves. Let it wash over me and drag me down to the sandy bottom, where I will scrape my knees on the rocks as I bounce back up to the surface. The scraped knees and scars remain in the days and weeks after a Sad Day, reminding me of who I am. I am the mother of twins. I am infertile.
I am ok.

Bats in my Belfry

The house we live in is quite old. At least 150 years old, according to some photos and documents, but the deed doesn't have a date on it, so we're not sure exactly how old. It's old enough to have neat things like square nails in the giant beams in the basement, an old dry sink made into a side board, a second set of (narrow) stairs in the back of the kitchen that are far more worn than the front (larger) stairs, and an unused chimney with bats living in it.

Well, to be truthful, the bats are living in the tiny space in between the bricks of the chimney and the wall of the house surrounding the chimney. They are quite respectful in that they're quiet in the morning when we're trying to sleep, their poop and other effluvia are contained by the walls they live in, and they are all out when we're trying to fall asleep at night.

However... once in a while a young one will get lost and find a way (where? where the HELL do they come through?) into the attic, and make it's way into our living spaces. I think this is kind of interesting. My husband does not find this interesting. He is afraid of bats. I find THIS interesting.

Nothing is funnier to me than a grown man who's not afraid to stick his fingers into huge machines with blades and roller bars, or stand right in front of 90 mile-an-hour fast balls cowering at the little flappity-flap sound of bat wings. I will march right in to the path of the bat, closing doors, opening windows, turning off ceiling fans (they confuse the poor things) and holler "he's coming your way, open the door and let him out!" only to follow the bat to the exit and find The Earner flat on the ground protecting his head while the bat flutters harmlessly around the top of the room, 9 feet above him, still trapped in the room.

If there is bat catching to be done, it's by me. If there is bat herding to be done, it's by me. If there is hysterical laughing at weenies who run, it's by me. But I kind of like knowing that they're there. They eat a lot of bugs.





And not funny at all, but Omaha NE was hit hard last night by storms and tornadoes. Brandy mentions more details, and also their break in from last night. I'm thinking of those poor boys today, and their families.

No Bunny Left Behind

Both bunnies have been surgically relieved of their reproductive organs. This was a must for the animals in my daughter's care, as she desperately wanted them to be friends and I just couldn't see myself being able to keep up with bunny contraceptives OR zillions of baby bunnies. It's also supposed to be very helpful in keeping the girl bunny healthy and free of mysterious bunny cancers, as well as keep the male from pooping every where and biting so much.

So we got them fixed. The boy breezed through it, coming home and eating hay 2 short hours after his neutering. Typical male.

The female suffered a bit, especially because the vet's office gave her to us STILL SEDATED, and then hosed her off immediately before putting her in the bunny carrier, so that she was dripping wet during the most crucial part of her recovery. Poor girl took 12 hours to dry off, and another 5 days to act alive.

Anyway, we waited the 2 weeks recommended for full recovery before introducing the two, and it's been met with mixed results. At times during their still-brief visits they sit contentedly, side by side, grooming or happily flopped. But most of the time he's chasing her, trying to hold on to her backside with his teeth, taking out a chunk of fur, and trying to mount her. She responds by running away a couple of feet and/or hissing at him. He is relentless. He circles around, acting nonchalant and suave, then runs up behind her and tries her again. Typical male.

The other day the Clogger was concerned because he was mounting her FACE, and she was just sitting there, letting him. Clogger picked the poor female up after her degrading victimization and exclaimed "awww, her face is all wet!"

Typical male.

Confession Time

I started the Atkins Diet a week ago.

I don't want to go to my sil's house for a birthday party today.

I have dirty pans hidden in my oven.

I take a 20 minute "power nap" almost every day.

I got a ticket for talking on my cell phone while driving 3 weeks ago, and haven't told my dh yet.

I play games on my daughter's webkinz account.

You Said What?

The humans in our house often speak for the rabbits of the house. This is highly entertaining for us, and we appear to have a gift for it.

Yesterday the Clogger and I straightened up the newly-boatless (yay!) back yard and moved the two rabbit hutches around, moved Muppy into her new hutch, and took the new guy outside. We were very excited to do this because he's a pain in the butt. He kicks litter out of his cage, he flings poo balls, he makes noise constantly, and let's face it: I was NEVER one for animals in the house. In my mind they were meant to live outside. That's why they're wearing fur coats. Anyway, the time was NOW to take him outside, as he was previously a house bunny, and he needs to prepare himself for the changing season during the currently mild weather.

So this morning I come downstairs and lean out the kitchen window in the early morning coolness to say hi to them, and then speak for them.

Me, as the voice of Skeezit: Geez, it's a little chilly out here, don't you think?

The Earner, as the voice of the seasoned Muppy: This is nothing. Just wait 'til January when it's really cold, n00b.