So I've been sitting around...a lot. Depending on where I am in the pain/pain medication cycle I have also cleaned the carpet, vacuumed, groomed the #$%^& dogs, dusted, changed the slip cover on the couch, upgraded the teevee so I can watch the Horse Racing Channel, and done some laundry. I also have been cooking and sometimes do the dishes too. Yesterday I learned on the teevee that 3 parts cream of tartar to 1 part water makes an excellent "green" cleaning mixture for your stainless steel sink. I am alarmed to announce this was the most exciting thing that has happened in the past 5 days.
On Sunday the spouse and I trekked over to Petaluma to get my car. It has been living there since the helicopter whisked me away two weeks previously. We also got to celebrate Dan's birthday. This is a great occasion as Dan is now technically a year older than me. I love old people. We got him a bottle of Makers Mark "46" which I think either means Dan's "age" or IQ. It would depend on whether or not Dan is mean to me. Mostly IQ then...
The spouse keeps bugging me about blogging. I keep saying I have nothing to blog about. He keeps saying that never stopped you before. I just take whatever is handy and zone out. He is annoying.
Since I was able to upgrade the teevee subscription to include HRTV (horse racing tee vee) and that then opened a whole new vista of channels, I was able to watch the Preakness Stakes on something like four different channels. And tape each one as well. What a life. I must say though, I was pretty surprised to see the horse who was the biggest boob of all win. He looked to be using up way too much energy in the paddock bucking, spinning and rearing. I saw many grooms and grounds people high tailing it out of his way. Perhaps they had read what happens if you manage to insert yourself between a horses hooves and safety. In any case, this nag must have endurance to spare, cause he won in spite of his pre-race gymnastics. I'd put my money on him for the Belmont, if I had any. That would be the tip-o-the-day. No charge. His name is Shackleford and he is named for an island. Do you need to know any more?
Several weeks ago the spouse came home in a particularly foul mood. Never you mind how I knew, that's not what this is about. No, worse than even being told the dog could no longer come to work because of his indiscriminate attacking and biting habits and something about pinning someone to a chain link fence...details details, oh, the dog, not Steve. But I digress, anyway the boss man at the place Steve works had some kind of epiphany as to dress code for managers and therefore determined that my beloved should dress more like a manager. I took a long, thoughtful look at the man I married and marveled that it had taken this long. Steve was not sure what part of his ensemble the boss man objected to, could it be the sweatshirt with stainage? The too short pocketed t-shirt with stainage? The board shorts with stainage? Or the sandals? Hard to say. The upshot was that my spouse now had to dress his age. Damn baby, I thought this presentation was strictly reserved for mandatory holiday dinners and outings to the ballet. Nevertheless, the next morning my prince went rummaging through his side of the closet for something that was appropriate to his status. Plenty of shirts in there due to my diligent purchases of a new shirt every Christmas and birthday. Bonus: they all had the tags on them! Not so lucky in the trouser department. In the last move we made, I believe I may have thrown out every pair of slacks that hadn't been worn in say a year. So sweet cheeks was down to two pairs of slacks/trousers/not jeans. I don't think he was appreciative of the sympathetic grunts I made on his behalf as he struggled with the fastenings either. Sorry dude, just trying to be helpful. In any case I emailed his mother unit and whined pathetically that her darling only offspring was going to be fired because he had nothing to wear, and could she send clothes to him right now, oh, and here are the model numbers from the catalog, and could you go ahead and send some shirts too? Because God only knows how long it will be till the current crop goes stained, ripped, or whatever other horrors may befall them. Bless her little heart! The box arrived today and my dream machine shall be clothed in outfits befitting his station for some time to come. Thanks Mary. You're the bomb!
I have had visitors. My children and their children. The Sunday I came home from the hospital, Megan and her husband, Josh, currently #1 - you go
On to the swamp in the back yard. We have a pond. It is not deep. The dogs stand in it. That's all they do is stand in it. Kind of strange. The pond is supposed to have a pump and a waterfall. Neither of those things work or even are there. The landlord was supposed to maintain all that sort of stuff, but he said he wasn't going to do that after all, and just to throw bleach in it once in awhile. Well, in the meantime we were overrun with horny frogs (not horny toads, well maybe, but I mean carnally inclined) over the winter and the upshot of that was a feverish hatching of tadpoles. Well the grandchildren were ever so excited about them. And insisted on catching a good number of them to take home with the money. It was a good day for the Kerns children booty-wise. In any case the capture of the tadpoles went something like this. Jack obtained a tadpole catching vessel from "Grumpy" and scooped the tadpoles in to it. Silas then came around and tipped them all on to the grass. Jack came in screaming that Silas murdered all the tadpoles. Silas came in grinning holding a mass of cookies and granola bars in one hand and grasping for my Jamba Juice with the other. Mila stole money. So then Jack would go back out and catch more tadpoles and Silas then returned them to their gasping brothers and sisters in the grass and Jack would screech and Mila would take more money. This went on for quite a while and I marveled that Megan could not hear any of the goings on and that Josh could, and was sleeping on the couch through the whole of it. Simply amazing. They are absolute darlings and I approve most heartily of them. Of course what I really liked was how easily they manipulated "Grumpy". Mila has ordered him to appear at her ballet class like YaYa did. Steve gravely agreed that he should indeed do that. I'll see to it that he does.
And so dear readers, I reach the limit of creativeness for this week. Hopefully something interesting will happen in my future. Oh wait, the daughter of Steve arrives for a summer homage to her pappy next week. That should prove interesting ...I'll let you know.
Cheers,
Squidgy
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