Okay– so sorry about missing last night. Mate was getting back from Portland, and, well, yes I blew off the blog to celebrate his arrival.
But other than that, a few odd things have been said around here that I thought I’d share:
* After seeing a cartoon on the GIF controversy here at THE OATMEAL Chicken turned to her little brother and said–on accident– “So, ZoomBoy, do you say GIF or YIF.” Now I have no idea what a YIF is, but apparently it’s bad– don’t-tell-the-parents BAD, because ZoomBoy said with dignity, “I am very underage to know about that,” and Chicken fell down laughing.
YIF. I don’t want to know.
* ZoomBoy had a swing dance unit in PE, and apparently the final project was a big Grease style dance contest at the school. I went to see him swing dance–he picked out his nice black button down and slacks–and… oh you guys– he was so happy! He and his partner (a very sweet girl he knew from choir too) were eliminated in the first round, but we forget to give thanks for a lot of simple stuff sometimes. Seeing his smile when Squish and I showed up to watch him dance–that was such a simple thing. I’m so grateful I got to be there. (I took video for Mate because he was in Portland, but am not great at uploading it. *sigh*)
* Squish stayed home from school yesterday because… well, I’m a little fuzzy there even though I’m the one who made the call.
With Mate out of town, I take ZoomBoy to school first, then come home and get Squish. Now Squish is amazing at getting herself ready. In the days when I took her and ZoomBoy, she would be ready, teeth brushed, breakfast had, cartoons on, before I could even get ZoomBoy out of bed. But even the most organized Squishy has a bad day.
I got home from dropping ZoomBoy off and she ran out to the car sobbing. She woke up late, with a bloody nose, and she couldn’t find her underwear, and she’d gone out to the garage to see if there was any in the drier, and a big cat jumped out to startle her, and it wasn’t Shulamonster who was supposed to be out there, it was some imposter kitty, and Shula was probably DEAD!
I’ve never seen her this upset–but I have seen her snotty. As in congested. I think she was sick–headachy, joint-achy, just generally icky, and she had a shitty morning. And I remembered back when I worked full time and the big kids had been little. They’d HATED school. Loathed it. Especially Chicken. I used to promise them one day off a month. Just a pajama, mental health day. And we did that–not even every month. But sometimes, the knowledge that you had one pajama day a month actually got you through that month without needing to use it.
So I gave Squish a pajama day. After we watched her brother’s swing dance competition, she sat and watched cartoons and got to be lord of the remote control and I hugged her frequently and…
Pajama day.
She felt much better this morning, and that was fine too.
* But that leads us to the other conundrum.
The identity of the cat in the garage.
Now the kids–led by Chicken, upon whom I blame about everything– calls this animal Imposter Kitty, and Chicken claims it’s not Shulamonster because it has a different fur, and a different face, and it’s twice as big, and it has BALLS.
The kids say Imposter Kitty is Kitty Zilla, and Shula was NEVER this big.
Squish is sure this cat KILLED Shula, and that’s why she’s not there anymore.
Mate says Imposter Kitty IS ACTUALLY SHULAMONSTER, and she just got REALLY FLUFFY for winter.
I have not seen enough of this cat to call one way or another. All I can really tell you is, if you’re going to have a cat live in your garage, you should maybe keep the garage clean enough to track down the cat should an Imposter Kitty take over it’s domain and eat it.
And by you, I mean us. And by Imposter Kitty, I mean Giant Shulamonster. And by clean, I mean the opposite of anything in this house.
* Chicken is looking up cars, on a very (VERY) limited budget. She found one that looked like a GREAT deal and I told her to CarFax it, and she thought I was being paranoid, and I gave her $40 to do it anyway and…
The 2008 Hyundai was actually a 2011 Hyundai that had been in two accidents, one of them TOTALED it, before it had been salvaged, re-built, and given to the poor hoser trying to get rid of it now.
I’m serious. CarFax. I LOVE this idea.
* Newt-Dewey beeps. Seriously, he’ll sit on the table and make beeping noises at you until you tap him enough times to get him to stop.
It’s his schmooze alarm.
And on that note–goodnight everybody!
While I admit that CarFax RULES, based on personal experience, NEVER trust the CARFAX a dealer gives you. EVER. The salesman that sold me what I thought was my DREAM VW Beetle, did some sleight of hand and Photoshopped bullshit on the report that he handed me. (Their 'free' CF report) Within the space of a year, I'd replaced the alternator TWICE and the battery THREE times before there was a total electrical failure.
Turns out, the car was in a wreck, and totaled by the insurance company.
Lesson? Run your OWN CarFax, get an estimate of actual value via TrueCar, and do some market research on the make and model…because a$$holes are out there, and they prey on females buying cars.