The Dude That Said...

"Blondes have more fun," should be smacked. I'm NOT having fun. Not one bit. Perhaps the blondes that this dude observed had:

1) Misread the instructions to something really fun, like how much Laughing Gas to sniff. They obviously didn't misread the pattern to their sock knitting, or they wouldn't be having fun. It's really not fun trying to rip out a provisional cast-on. Not one bit.

2) The Blondes must have had a housekeeper. I don't have a housekeeper, and I'm not looking forward to cleaning out the camper bathroom so we can go away this weekend. If I had a housekeeper, I'd send her out there. I'd also have her fix the sock, too.

3) The blondes did not own goldfish. Definitely not.

4) The blondes also did not have to purchase groceries, nor did they have to put them away (see #2 above). I have groceries in bags all over my kitchen floor. I've tried to use psychic powers to get them put away, but it's not working. I think the Observed Blondes might have psychic powers as well.

5) The Blondes were rich. Or had Sugar Daddies. Or won lotto. I am definitely not rich, don't have a Sugar Daddy, and have not won lotto. I want to buy more yarn. I don't have tons of money to buy all the luscious yarn I want. And Milk Duds. I'd love to buy a huge truck load of Milk Duds. And other candy. Yes, money would be nice.

So that's why I'm miserable. I have to clean, deal with fish, put away groceries and I WANT CANDY.

Pass the hairdye. I'm going platinum blonde and see if that helps my case any.

The Cursed Pets

Yes, those pets are at it again. First, the senile dog has Lymes disease. The poor guy can't even lift a leg to pee. He has to point his 'parts' at the tree and sort of twist his torso to get the job done. He also can't jump into the back of the station wagon, which is indeed a horrid fate in his old eyes. So he's on medication now, and feeling better. Still not peeing on trees like the man-dog he is, but he was able to get into the car for a ride to pick up K-man at a friend's. Indeed, a great thing.

Second, the fish are sick. Yes, the damned things are more trouble than they are worth. But this time, it's not their fault. I bought two things two weeks ago: a larger filter (yay!) and a new pleco. I know why people end up with STDs now when dating. They look at that handsome guy and think, "there's no WAY something that fine could be carrying diseases." The pleco was a fine looking fish. Nice spots, a cute wiggle to his tail. But about a week later, the goldfish started living at the bottom of the tank and itching on stuff. One of them would go inside the sunken ship and wriggle all around until his tummy was all raw. Poor critter.

So I did a little research, and lo and behold, they have ick, an external parasite that ends up looking like white grains of salt all over fins and the body. So now I get to change their water, 25% every day and give them their medicine. They are looking better, and have stopped itching. Yay!

You're probably wondering why I didn't quarantine the fish before putting him in the tank...The other small tank is occupied by Mocha the cyclops goldfish. If I put him back in the big tank, the mean beasties would kill him, and the small tank is too small for the pleco too. Plus Spot looked so darned healthy (banging head...) No worries for the frog, though. I did move him to the small tank with Mocha (I didn't see any research that stated frogs get Ick-so far they're fine).

So those are the cursed pets. Thank goodness we don't have any more than that. Oh, the cows are fine. They're the only ones that are truly well (crossing fingers).

New Hobby And Old

I have a new hobby. Well, maybe not me...It's more like, the beasts have a new hobby. Take a guess what it is...soccer? No, way to suburban. Cow tipping? No, they're way too small for that (and I don't think the cows would allow for tipping).

You done guessing? It's....fishing.

Yes, fishing. I know, it sounds absolutely silly, but it's actually not a bad hobby. The kids practice casting, and have gotten pretty good at it. Last time we went I played Suduko (LOVE IT). This time I played with the Tamagochi--we're on the 3rd generation brat now.

Little One was actually very good at casting her little plug thing (it's a heavy thing with no hook that only catches pond weeds--it's called a plankton plug because it's a Sponge Bob thingie. IT is turquoise, has arms legs and one huge cyclops eye). Poor K-man put a huge fake worm on his hook, didn't stick it on there good and it went flying across the pond when he cast.

The DH informed me I wasn't allowed to collect anything they caught, which was fine with me. Though I do have a fear of taking the things OFF the hook (I can put worms on). HOwever, the last few times we went we only caught trees, a rope, the inner sole from a shoe and pond weed). This time, K ALMOST caught a fish. It took half of his neon pink lure thingie and jumped out of the water. Little One caught Pond weed (which she called sea weed with great glee) and she managed to look very surprised and impressed every single time she caught it.

Tommorrow is a day OFF, no racing. Which means I can settle again into my old hobby of knitting. I'm working on a scarf of darkish green casmere blend wool--very soft yet light. I just finished one third of it, but I need more yarn. I'll start the other one while the yarn comes in, same casmere blend in light blue. If blogger were pleasant, it would post my pictures. Since it's not, you'll have to imagine the scarves (only two mistakes on this one! Go me!).

Last RACE!

So yesterday was the last day of racing for the points season. Now, that doesn't mean we're DONE. There's one more big regional race, then Nationals in December. It's a never-ending thing, this racing. I'm not sure if I like that (though I love my children, and they like it).

I'm sure you're dying to know how we did...I'd post a picture, but Blogger won't let me, evil trolls. Because the picture I had would have shown you EXACTLY how the boy finished...

HE WON!

Great race, too. He did clean passing, got out in front and stayed there. I was very, very proud.

The Little One raced well, too. She's now gotten to the point where she stays on the lead lap for the entire race. She led one lap and was second for 2 other laps, so she has improved a lot. She also loves to help in the snack shop, selling stuff and trying to get free candy out of them for helping. So it was a great year for her as well.

Damn, I really wish they'd post the picture for you...it was a great picture!

Famous Last Words...

You know those words, the ones that doom you to an eternal life of misery and doom (no, it's not 'I Do'). It's those phrases like, "Wow, I can't believe you didn't break that yet," or "I can't believe how good you're being!" Yeah. You know it.

This weekend, K-man had a friend sleep over. Little one had the neighbor child over to play. The friend's dad called, and I happily said, "Yes, they're doing great. Playing well together, though I suspect with as much as they're laughing, they're probably doing something inappropriate. But no one has come in bloody yet..."

Yes, those are the famous last words.

A few moments later, the neighbor child comes in, complaining of bleeding from a lost tooth. I am on the phone with MIL and internally cringing. I HATE LOST TEETH. I hate that they wiggle, that they bleed and get all gooky... The toothfairy is one unlucky lady as far as I'm concerned. Teeth are GROSS. So I tell her to wait a moment, hang up and turn to discover one heck of a bloody child.

"That's from a lost TOOTH?" I shriek, and run to get wet papertowels. If there's anything I hate more than loose teeth it's BLOOD. And this somehow involved blood and teeth, though I couldn't see any missing tooth. "Where's the tooth?" I ask as I hand her wet papertowels.

"I don't know."

"So how did this happen?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?" I hand her more towels an arm's length away, and cautiously inspect her teeth from a distance. "I don't see any missing teeth. Are you sure you lost a tooth?"

"I think so."

I look again. "I don't see anything missing." I breathe huge sigh. "I think you bit your lip." The bottom lip is bloody. Gross, but not involving teeth. This is getting better. However, no one knows how it happened. I shake my head--kids are strange.

So after a bit, the blood stops, she goes outside, the kids go to collect fruit roll-ups from grandma's. The neighbor child goes home afterward. Her mother calls 30 seconds after, wanting to know why the poor thing has TWO BROKEN TEETH.

After much screaming and yelling on my part, I finally discover the truth. The neighbor girl tossed a rock at the friend, the friend threw one back and hit her in the face with it. And the neighbor child didn't want to tell me because she would get in trouble for throwing the rock to begin with. My children didn't throw the rocks, but they didn't come in and tell, which is just as bad. I apologize profusely, ground the remaining children (they wanted to ride dirt bikes) and call MIL to update her on the tooth saga. And called the friend's dad to tell him I was wrong, and there was blood involved after all.

The neighbor child ended up with bond-o or whatever on the teeth. I know I didn't see broken teeth when I examined her (despite my cringing and disgust at the blood, I did look carefully. Honest.) We think the rock cracked the teeth, and the fruit roll-ups yanked them out. In any case, 4 children will hopefully never throw rocks again, and I'll never say anything that just might backfire and end up with blood and teeth and icky things.