Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Nothing has prepared me for the carnage I am expecting to find there. Her highness called the other day to share the days grossness with yours truly. (really?) It seems the black birds at the rancho have nothing better to do other than commit suicide in the water troughs. She told me she's fished as many as 7 or 8 birds a day out, most of them dead, but some dying. In any case she tenderly (lol) puts their little wet bodies in the bushes where miraculously they are revived and fly off to join their bretheren. Just kidding. What's really happening is the crows are swooping down and whisking the desperate, dead and dying off to become part of the days ala carte menu. Her highness found this to be terrible and currently she hates the crows. I have no particular fondness for birds, but I'm thinking at least someone is tidying up besides you or me. Then because I wasn't grossed out enough she regaled me with the tale of the vultures (CA condors) dropping their carrion in an empty paddock where they then invited all their kin over for a big ole nosh. The crows were invited too, but had to wait for everyone else to finish before they were allowed to clean up, if you will. I think I've been to that party.
So I am really looking forward to this visit. On Saturday the royalty will buzz back up to Petaluma from their horse show to attend a high school graduation party. They have included me too. Since when are adolts invited to high school grad parties? Why my own grad party was cloaked in such secrecy that there were more than thirty layers of subterfuge to go through to even find it. Naturally it was such a great time I remember nothing of it. I do remember walking home in the morning from somewhere. Never mind. So the mother of the grad is French so the food should be good and I know them so anything I do under the influence will be expected and nothing I do should be any more embarrassing than usual. Little upsides.
The old daughter and her little family visited last week. I finally got my grubby paws on the youngest Grand Off Spring and I don't mind telling you he is THE cutest baby in the world. And very happy and laughs a lot. I take all the credit for his good looks and temperament. The parents don't agree, but I just ignore them. And you should too. The real reason the little family came to California was to attend a wedding that I was not invited to. This meant that I could babysit the three old grandchildren...again. But first we got to spend all day at the Sacramento Train Museum. I'm sure baby Sam from New Mexico will savor those memories forever. He is, after all, seven months old. Then we all, and by all I mean the three daughters of moi, the four grandchildren and one son-in-law had lunch. Naturally one of the four grands had a pseudo melt down and had to be rewarded for that by having a present bestowed upon him in the form of a bow and arrow set. You're welcome Megan. I bought little presents for his siblings as well. While Mila liked her jewelry box, though she wanted to repaint it, Silas had a tantrum about the darling train I gave him and wanted Jacks weapon instead. Jack and I high fived it because we know that sharing is for losers. We bought Steve a snow globe. If you are ever in a position to scratch your head puzzling over what gift would be appropriate to give my spouse, you can never go wrong with a snow globe. He can put them on the window sill of the state run extended care home that I will put him in when the time comes. I am so funny. And I am cracking up just now.
I have been invited to drive up to Washington State with my little friend Kristi week after next. Yes, Kristi I'll go, but I am wondering about my sanity. Why does it always sound like such a great idea to go on a road trip, then spend a long weekend freezing or broiling and walking and scurrying about? Because that part is fun. Then you have to drive home. That part always sucks. Always. Kristi is one of the best traveling companions because you can whine and cry and badger and carry on and she thinks you're kidding. And she can whine and cry and badger and carry on and I think she's kidding too. What this means is we are two old bags let loose on the world without a cognizant thought between the two of us. Why we have ever made to where we were going together is anyone's guess, but we always have fun.
For instance, there was the time we thought it would be a good idea to go to the Fair Hill Three Day Event in Maryland one year. We left from Sacramento planning to end up in the city of Brotherly Love via Houston. So far so good. Once our flight stopped in Houston it seemed prudent to go have a couple of cocktails. Then, because we were buzzed and neither of us knew the real time our flight was to leave, we thought it would be good idea to have another cocktail and some food. Long story short? At some point we figured out our plane was leaving at that moment and we were in a bar/restaurant miles away. So we hauled buns dragging all our stuff through the airport, where all the guys with the fast little go carts ignored us, and we arrived at our gate just as they closed the doors. And you know no matter how much you cry and beg and harangue and argue there is no way in hell they are opening those damn doors for you. Frustrated and by this time somewhat sober we had to finangle a flight to Philly that night.
The travel Gods took pity and we managed to wheedle our way on to a flight to Baltimore where we rented a snazzy little Mustang and drove up to the Philadelphia International Airport. We weren't planning to go to Philly at all but you see our luggage was sober and straight at the airport in Houston - so it did get on the original flight. Now we had to drive to yet another airport to reclaim our luggage. And we hadn't actually had any meaningful sleep. At that time of night, no I mean morning it doesn't really matter how long of a trip from point A to point B it is, it is way tooooooooooooo long. But we arrived in Philly, managed to discover the whereabouts of the airport and then discovered that no one was in charge of lost luggage. And no one would be for many hours from the time we presented ourselves. Pretty much there is nothing more desperate than a large airport in the predawn hours when you have too much adrenaline going, too little sleep and no prospect of a solution to your woes. So finally, much, much later, we collected our belongings and took ourselves off to Fair Hill. I think we were ok that first day, who knows? But the following day when it was pissing rain and everything that resembled dirt became an unpleasant mire I lost the car keys to the cute little Mustang. And then we discovered that if you live in Maryland the only neighborhood you know is the block you live on and maybe the way to work. But under no circumstances would you ever know how to get to Elkton, MD much less Fair Hill. I know this because I dispatched no fewer than six tow trucks to come to my aid and not one of them found the place. And I felt that I should stay with the car on the off chance that one of those mouth breathers should actually find me and rescue the car etc. What this meant is I missed all of the cross country sitting in the rain and Kristi knew better than to hang out with me while I was sulking and pouting. Anticlimax you say? The keys got found and we made good our escape in time to catch our flight home. Amen. Oh and we crashed the competitors party which was a dud. And we were excused from the Patrons tent for not have the right credentials. Great trip.
While we were chatting just now, the dawg ate the hose. I just thought you should know. Oh, and the hose was running because I forgot to turn it off while I was over-soaking one of the newly planted plants. Don't quit your day job sweet cheeks.
I think I've entertained you enough for one day. Feel free to re-read this tomorrow. Nothing will have changed except you will be another day older and uh deeper in debt.