Thursday, February 19, 2009

Week In Review

Slacking here.

Last Thursday: Lily tells me in the morning that she's been sick all night. She wears her best poker face as I mull her options: stay home or go to school. As soon as I say she probably ought to stay home, her face curls up into a Grinch-like smile. Score. When I picked her up from her grandmother's that evening, she wondered aloud at how lucky she was that she ended up being perfectly fine all day and technically could've gone to school. It boggled her mind.

Friday: Half-day of school & Valentine's Day parties. Lily sheepishly mentioned Thursday that this would be her last class party of the year. And that I could come if I wanted. Crank up the Mom Guilt. I'd strongly considered going, but forgot about it & didn't plan ahead for it. So Friday morning I sent Mark a message that he could go to the party if he wanted. It's a little easier for him to go anyway since it's sort of his off season and he's usually home. I also told him how pitiful Lily was when she mentioned it to me. So he ended up surprising her by showing up for the party. He said he really enjoyed himself, too. Mark also said that Lily is by far the prettiest & most robust looking child in her class. Gee, Daddy, biased much? Of course he's absolutely right though. Ha! He said, "You know how (beautiful) our coon dog looks compared to other coon dogs? That's how Lily is compared to the other kids in her class." And he was completely serious when he said that.

Saturday: Fiesta at the local Mexican restaurante in celebration of my Mom and Al's Sunday morning departure to Jamaica to get married. We're all happy for them. They're good kids.

Sunday: Mark takes his 'girlfriend' Sarah to church in downtown Pittsburgh and out to lunch at the same restaurante we'd dined at the night before. He's taken her to doctor's appointments for the past couple years because she's legally blind and can't drive. I'm not sure how necessary all the doctors appointments really are. I think it's more a chance to get out of the house and take Mark out to lunch. She has commandeered him for the last couple of Valentine's Days. Hmmmm.
I stayed home and did our income taxes= cranky.

Monday: Glory be and hallelujah: I've got the day off. The kids have another half day so we plan to find some family activity to do when they get home.Out of total desperation because I'm jonesing badly for a ride, I saddle Nikki for a morning ride in 30 degree weather. Rapture. And sore! We did a fair amount of trotting, attempted some cantering (translate:bucking with a smattering of true cantering) and a short gallop. First gallop I've purposely had with her, come to think of it. Fun!
As for our family outing, we could only muster enough energy to take the kids out for a late lunch. In the restrooms were kid-friendly stools so little ones can reach the sinks to wash their hands. Upon returning from a trip to the restroom, Sam said that he 'found a huge stool in the restroom.' I had to do a double-take when he said it, because I thought he knew the other meaning for 'stool' and that he was making a joke. When I told him the other meaning he nearly fell on the floor laughing. And more 'stool' jokes ensued.

Tuesday: Back to work and Day One of the bathroom remodel. We've been anticipating and dreading this day. Anticipating because it means the end of the blue sink & tub, plywood walls covered in more frickin' blue wallpaper, gah! I could so go on & on about it. That's not even the half of it. Dreading because everyone has to share my bathroom in the cellar during construction. So it's like camping out. Especially now that all the displaced spiders from the other bathroom have taken up residence in my bathroom. Mark says he feels like he's trespassing. I gave the girls a tutorial on not touching stuff. So far so good.

At work, a study in contrasts. Mr. Morris is a gentlemen in his eighties. You may have seen him and his bride out and about in their immaculate 1966 Chevy pickup. They made an adorable picture. Not too long ago, Mrs. Morris became ill and had to be moved to a nursing home. Her husband visits her twice a day. One icy day when the roads were terrible, Mr. Morris got a call that his wife had dropped her teeth and broke them, so of course he set out to fetch her teeth to get them repaired. Unfortunately, he wrecked his truck en route. His beautiful romantic truck. The one his beloved helped clean and wax. He couldn't bring himself to tell her that it's gone.
When he stopped in the office Tuesday, he reminisced about his days with Mrs. Morris. He said they never cheated on each other. Only wanted to be with one another. He said he took care of her at home for as long as he could. Said she was simply a wonderful woman. They've been married over sixty years. Even received a citation from one of our esteemed senators for it. I love hearing these stories. I hang on every sappy, sweet word. And usually their stories end with them rushing out the door in tears.

In sharp contrast, we have Carl. Great big, greasy, noisy Carl. Again with the customers asking to use our non-public restroom. He's doing the pee-pee dance, and I relent. But not before he 'crop dusts' the whole office with a dense and reeking series of farts. Then I'm pretty sure he peed with the door open, failed to hit the toilet, didn't wash his hands (of course,) and then parades back through the office with the flesh of his suitcase-sized gut hanging out the bottom of his sweatshirt. He departed with a pleasant 'I don't have time to mess around with you people.' No sweat, Carl. I have to go bleach the entire bathroom anyway.

Wednesday: New hole in the wall of the bathroom. It's supposed to be there. Book reading marathon with Lily. Mark is sick. God help me, Mark is sick.

Thursday: Mark wakes Sam up early because the horses are out of the fence. Sam must've forgotten to latch the gate last night and the wind blew it open. I walked outside in my bathrobe when I heard the news and came face to face with a very guilty-looking Admiral. They both knew damn well they were bad, but fortunately went back in the fence immediately. Not before they'd gotten into a bag of steer feed in the barn, of course. Hopefully they won't be sick from it. Hopefully Sam is more careful about latching the gate; he usually does really well.

The contractor isn't coming back until Monday, so the bathroom sits in a state of dusty crusty stasis. Nooo! Hopefully his promises of doubled effort and speed will pan out next week.
And Mark is still sick. God help me, Mark is still sick. Double hot toddies all around, starting with me.
(I'm joking, Daddy! Get well soon, of course!)

7 comments:

Camp Papa said...

I was starting to worry about the silence of my favorite PA blogger, but now I see what's been distracting you from your duties to your readers. You got a lot going on, girl! Hope Mark is well soon (God help you and him, too).

Becky said...

Whew, there's an embarassment of riches here, but I must say my favorite bits are: 1) the comparison of Lily to the coon dog (I know exactly how he means that), and 2) the "crop dusting." Oh. My. God!

Hope the hubs is well soon!

osagebluffquilter said...

OMG a sick husband, nothing is worse. Good luck!

On the panhaas, you probably know it as scrapple. It's usually cooked hog heads, grind the meat, cook it with spices, add cormeal and flour. Chill, slice and fry!

Now days I use pork shoulder as we no longer butcher hogs. With the kids gone, there is no way the two of us can eat that much before it goes bad.

Patti

David said...

Wow. I second Becky on the "crop dusting." Great description; god-awful scene. It's magic like that from you that made high school worth going to!

Send a "Get Well Soon" to Mark ... and Congratulations to Carol!

Amy said...

Great post! Love what your husband said about Lily--that is too sweet in a really funny way. And I love your work stories, as David says, you tell them sooo well.

Annette said...

I hope (for your sake) that Mark feels better soon.

You sent me into a panic attack with the bit about the horses getting out. OMG. That was always the most terrifying thing about living on this road. I remember the Christmas morning that our horses escaped and seeing weanling Gypsy standing oblivious in the middle of Route 18 with a tractor trailer bearing down on her. (shivers)

If I don't get to go riding soon, I'm going to evolve into a raving, crazed psycho maniac. And no cracks about me already being there.

Sara said...

Oh, I'm still here! Thanks for the sympathies all. No worries, it's nothing serious, but don't tell Mark that. ;)

I have to give props to my baby brother for the 'crop dusting' term. He got his fair share of it that day. Once we all get going on an improv, you never know what kind of descriptions you're going to get.

David-High school was SO not worth it. Ha! You had your fair share of zingers. I'll give Mom your regards.

Patti-Panhaas...I may just have to take a leap and try it, just so I can say I did. I know I don't like the feet though.

Annette-'Your' horse is a troublemaker. :)