Early Warning System Failure

Nose blows are surely as unique as our faces or fingerprints, right?  Mine?  Well, I have a medium-loud blow when I'm with family or alone, and a dainty squeak of a girly blow when I'm in public.  My kids?  Well, we usually have to nag them to get them to actually do it and when they do, it's likely messy.  But Dave...oh, my, my, my, Dave.  His do actual damage to the ears of anyone in the surrounding area.  We were at a store once when he blew his nose and a child about five feet away actually started crying.  His blows are bad, people!

So, as Dave always likes to be a nice guy, he came up with a warning system so we would all have a chance to cover our ears and prevent future hearing loss.  Here's how it's been going.


Dave:  "HOOOOOOONNNKK!!!!"

Everyone else:  "Aaaaaaaaaaah!!  My ears...they're bleeding!!!!!"

Dave:  "Excuse me."

Everyone else:  "You were supposed to warn us!"

Dave:  "Oh, yeah.  What was I supposed to say again?"

Everyone else:  "'Blow' warning, remember?"

Dave:  "HOOOOOOONNNKK!!!!  Look out B-low!"

Everyone else:  "You're supposed to warn us before you blow!"

Dave:  "Oh, well now I don't have any more buggers."


I know it's poor form when you have to explain a joke, but as Dave came up with this one, I figure it just might need explanation.  

"Look out B-low!" is very similar to "Look out below!" but it's funny because "B-low" spells "Blow".  OK, go ahead and laugh now, get it out of your system.

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The Gift of Words

Thirteen year olds fart a lot.  Or maybe thirteen year old boys fart a lot.  Or maybe it's just my thirteen year old boy who farts a lot.

Let me just pause here for a moment to say that my little guy wears his farts proudly and will likely love this blog.

His current super power is waiting until the car doors are shut and the car is moving, and then ripping one.  It makes me wonder if this phenomenon exists in the wild.  Not the "in the car" part, but the rest for sure.  And, if so, why?

Anyway, tonight in the car, after a series of having to roll all the windows down and up and then down again...we had one of our truly Parsons conversations.


Dave:  "You need to keep your stinkamus holamus closed."  (This was to the little guy.)

Dave:  "You can use that in your blog."  (This was to me.  I know, I'm a very lucky lady.)

Me:  "I don't think I can use that."

Dave:  "No, no, no, I can work it out."

Me (under my breath):  "He works out..."  (Because, after all, I'm obsessed with that song.)


How I get from teenage boy farts to "Sexy and I know it" in a matter of a hundred words or so is awe inspiring...I'm quite sure.  Jealous much?

This was a very scary chiminea and an abandoned beverage that sat 

across the canal from where we stayed in Rockport.  

I thought they were a very lovely couple.

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Cone Head

Poor Hazel.  Since being spayed yesterday, she's been stuck with the dog's most hated accessory...the cone of shame terror.  She doesn't know what to make of it.  Except for that it is bad.  Very, very bad.  And she must have done something absolutely terrible to deserve such a thing.  Me thinks she thinks we've stuck her in the corner with a dunce cap upon her head.


So, here's what our sweet Hazel is able to do with the cone on:

- stand perfectly still pretending to be a statue so the cone won't notice and eat her alive.
- drool...a lot.


Here's what she can't do with the cone on:

- eat food from her bowl because if the cone hits the bowl, well, that's very scary!
- drink water from her bowl for the same reason as the food.
- walk anywhere because the cone hits stuff when she moves...super scary!


One day with the cone down...only nine more to go, poor, sweet, neurotic girl.


P.S. We do give her regular cone break eating/drinking opportunities, so please don't think we're meanies.  And...I think that maybe, just maybe, she's considering taking a step or two with it on...maybe.

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Doses of Sweetness

It's been anesthesia week round these parts.  Big guy had his wisdom teeth removed and Hazel had her internal lady parts removed.  I asked the dental doctor guy if we could have the teeth when they were done and he said, "no."  So, I figured there wasn't any point in asking about Hazel's parts, right?  Weird to even think about, eh, but this girl grew up with the hip ball thingie that had been removed from the family cat in a small bottle in the medicine cabinet for years (the hip ball thingie, not the cat).

Anyway, when we were able to go see our big guy after his procedure, he greeted us with this conversation...over and over, at least five times.


Big guy:  "How long have you been here?"

Me and/or Dave:  "I stayed here the whole time."

Big guy:  "No, I mean here.  Here in this building."

Me and/or Dave:  "Yes, sweetie, here in this building."


Such a sweet little doped up guy!

So, you'll never guess what happened when we picked up Hazel after her procedure.  They brought her into the room and she immediately lay down on our feet and gazed up at us.  And I kid you not, that furry little girl asked us with her big brown eyes...


Hazel:  "How long have you been here?"


Pure sweetness round two.

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Sooooo in Love

I don't mean to embarrass my children.  OK, I do a little bit, but I don't want to hurt them or do something that makes them violent or anything like that.  And, gosh, it's always out of love, of course.  So, I was sitting at the table painting, and Dave and the little guy were watching TV.  Some commercial came on and the background music was Al Green's "Let's Stay Together".

Well, first I started singing along...


Me:  "I'm sooooooo in love with yooooooou!"

Little guy:  "I know you are, but you don't have to sing it."


Of course I couldn't stop singing, I just couldn't!


Little guy:  "I will shoot you with a rubber band if you don't stop."


Course you know what that did...the only response to violence is love, right...right?  So, Dave chimed in.  I swear there were little musical notes swirling overhead and they were all shaped like hearts.  It was just beautiful.  If you were us, that is.  If you were my little guy, you had already left the room in a huff and slammed the door.

That's alright.  We'll remember right where we were in the song and when he comes out we'll pick up where we left off.  Feel the love, kiddo, feel the love.

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Quirky is as Quirky Does

Earlier today Dave caught me licking my plate.  Yes, when I'm home, I lick my plate sometimes...waste not, want not, right?  And besides, it was delicious!


Me:  "I know, I'm weird."

Dave:  "Let's drop the 'weird' and call it 'pleasantly quirky'."


So, tonight when we were eating at Uchi, Dave spilled some of our dessert on the table and proceeded to pick up every crumb and eat it.


Me:  "Way to be pleasantly quirky, darlin'."


And, yeah, I did so want to lick that plate...but we were in public after all...and I am a lady.

...a quirky one.

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Brotherly love...it's kind of like pulling teeth.

Our big guy is going to have his wisdom teeth removed this week.  Poor guy got his mother's small mouth.  We went shopping today so we'd have all the right mushy foods around the house.  Ice cream, check!  Jello, check!  Pudding, check!  That's the day one cold mushy foods.  The big guy is seriously almost excited to have it done.  Soup, check!  The makings for potato salad, check!  That's the day two mushy foods.  Big guy prefers the day one menu.

He's also gonna have to take horse pill-sized antibiotics the day before and for six days after the surgery.  Little dude walked in on our conversation about them.


Little guy:  "Why do you have to take them?"

Me:  "Because he's having his wisdom teeth removed and they want to make sure he doesn't get an infection."

Little guy:  Tapping big guy gently on the arm, "Sorry, man."  <giggles>

Me:  "Probably gonna happen to you someday."

Little guy:  "I know, but that's in a long while...and he'll move out before then and won't be here to laugh at me then."


Thinking big guy might already be thinking about arranging time in his schedule when he's 20 to come back and tap the little guy on his arm...and giggle a bit.

Ah....brotherly love.

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