Sounds so much more dramatic than "Izzy said some really funny shit earlier", doesn't it?
So, like:
Day Uno of our backyard reshuffling has begun. It's pretty much a thrice-part project.
A) Make things a bit more kid-friendly/kid-proof. (ER visits suck, as do discovering rocks in diapers. Rocks after they've been processed. As in eaten. As in put in the mouth. As in swallowed. As in inappreciably digested. As in eaten. As in then pooped out. As in -- wait, no, that actually sums it up pretty neatly.)
B) Get things scooted and set up so it's made more purty-like. Flowers, some nifty ideas for Izzy's playhouse, mayhap a...flowering-vine-like organic-ish carbon-based plant-entwined trellis or two, and Val's talking about busting out a couple rose bushes too. She's hardcore green. (Green as in eco-horny, not like... Not like green as in She-Hulk. As in Jennifer Walters. As in Bruce Banner's cousin. As in the fictional accomplished UCLA School of Law attorney, who can also benchpress the Thing while armwrestling (and beating) Hercules. As in -- yeah, no, that pretty much does it there too. Oh, and I'll bet you totally forgot about C by now. BWAHAHAHA! BWAHAHA! BWAHA! BWA! BW! B!)
C) Make compost, herbs, and some kinda plethora of vegetables. That we can eat, and stuff. 'Cause...you know. Eating's important. And crap. Not... That is, not: "Eating is important, as is the art of defecation". That's not what I meant at all just then. I meant: "Eating is important, and so forth, and so on".
...
Don't look at me like that. This was a long digression but ultimately we both enjoyed it.
Now! It's like I was saying...
So we were in the backyard, doing backyardic stuff. And Izzy sees a spider chilling on his web in the wee tree in the backyard, doing... I don't know. Spider shit. And so naturally Izzy goes incandescent with cuteness.
Izzy: "SPIDER!" /shrieks. "SPIDER! SPIDER RIGHT DER! HIIIIII SPIDEEEER!"
Me: "Oooh, cool spider, kitten."
Izzy: "Spider s'CYUTE. Spider s'CYUTE. AWWWW, HIIIII SPIDEEEEER!"
Me: "You like spiders, huh?"
Izzy: /eyes go wide, nods emphatically. "Um... Spiders eat cake?"
Me: /fights back the laughter. "Nope, no cake for them, sweetpea."
Izzy: /contemplates this information deeply. "Spiders eat...THUGAR?!"
Me: /makes a silent vow not to give in and laugh, when this is clearly a serious matter of investigation for her. "Nope, no sugar either, but keep trying."
Izzy: "Spiders eat cooki--um...spiders eat crackers?"
Me: /decides to toss out a helping hand. "Getting closer, kiddo. They eat bugs."
Izzy: "Ohhh, spiders eat BUGS! Mmm... Um...spiders eat...dey eat FLIES?!"
Me: /beams with pride. "There ya go! Good job, sweetpea. They love to eat flies, and other bugs. Remember those potato bugs we saw earlier? They probably eat those too."
Izzy: /reviews what she's learned so far. "Spiders eat...dey eat FLIES, an'... an'...dey eat TADO BUGS..." /drifts off, musing.
Me: "Exactly, very good. They eat flies, and potato bugs, and oth--"
Izzy: /gets a look equal parts 'I've just had an epiphany' and 'I'm completely crazy'. "SPIDERS EAT WINDOWS?!"
Me: /blinks, stares, starts laughing before he can catch himself. "N-no, no windows for them."
Izzy: /nods knowingly. "Too much. Get sick."
Me: /gives up, laughs his ass off.
Izzy: /laughs too, either totally in on the joke, or assuming that daddy is just as crazy. "Spiders eat CHAIR?!"
Me: /shakes head, still laughing. "Nope, no chairs."
Izzy: /nods, all Serious Face ©, confirming the craziness. "They had enough chairs."
Me: "Please stay this way forever."
And then she continued to scream pleasantries at the spider.
Sorry, sweetpea. Daddy cursed you to be a crazy, ignorant, loud 3-foot-tall pygmy.
Forever.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Special...so very special.
Dear Diary,
Today (well, Wednesday anyway) was a magical day. Let me count the ways!
1) My shuttle driver to Portland International Airport. Thank you Odin, Tuatha Dé Danann, various Hindu deities, collective universe consciousness, or perhaps even ancient dung beetle ancestral spirits, for sending me such a talented driver. A driver that only had two speeds:
a) breakneck-batshit-crazy-fast acceleration
b) oh-shit-oh-shit-please-I-don't-want-to-die braking
It took a titanic amount of self-reflection for me to come to grips with the fact that the only thing that could make this jaunt to PDX more special would be if I'd stolen a FedEx truck at gunpoint, loaded the back with 600 kilos of blow then swung by and picked up Lindsay Lohan and Stevie Wonder, asking them if they could pretty please rotate out every few minutes and drive me to the airport with a quickness.
2) The businessman who sat next to me on the puddlejumper flight to Seattle. The man who could not shut the fuck up if he were told, "Any phoneme you utter will instantly cause a catastrophic Rube Goldbergian chain reaction that will end all life in the UNIVERSE". The man who waxed poetic about such a variety of topics, all centered around how smart, wealthy, educated, and cultured he was.
I have to assume he intended to slip me a roofie in my complimentary in-flight beverage, which I smartly refused. I also clenched with such barbaric strength (I like to prepare for the worst) that I'm amazed I didn't stand up at the end of the flight to a perfect tiny egg-shaped diamond; and it also probably helped that I made frequent mention of being riddled with "AIDS, herp, syph, and pretty much anything that'll cause dickrot".
Nothing would deter this man until I pretended to drift off to sleep, at which point I assume he went all Leo (a la Titanic), and painted my portrait. Thankfully the steamy-window-hand-slap didn't happen...unless I've blocked it out.
3) The asshat in the Jeep that thought driving halfway onto the shoulder while being two feet behind me would properly indicate, "Please step aside, my fellow man! I wish to venture faster than most!" The aforementioned asshat also apparently cannot use his eyes in this plane of existence in order to calculate various things like solid objects...
As in cars. Everywhere. That prevented me from making way, or even spontaneously Tony Jaa-ing my Mazda 3 all over I-5 in an attempt to get out of poor Mr. AssJeep's way. The only solace I take in that experience is knowing I probably added substantially to his road rage when I consistently took my foot off the gas pedal every time he got too close, and then sped up again if my drifting back would in any way create a gap for him to change lanes.
Goodnight Diary!
Wubs,
Cacky Poo
Today (well, Wednesday anyway) was a magical day. Let me count the ways!
1) My shuttle driver to Portland International Airport. Thank you Odin, Tuatha Dé Danann, various Hindu deities, collective universe consciousness, or perhaps even ancient dung beetle ancestral spirits, for sending me such a talented driver. A driver that only had two speeds:
a) breakneck-batshit-crazy-fast acceleration
b) oh-shit-oh-shit-please-I-don't-want-to-die braking
It took a titanic amount of self-reflection for me to come to grips with the fact that the only thing that could make this jaunt to PDX more special would be if I'd stolen a FedEx truck at gunpoint, loaded the back with 600 kilos of blow then swung by and picked up Lindsay Lohan and Stevie Wonder, asking them if they could pretty please rotate out every few minutes and drive me to the airport with a quickness.
2) The businessman who sat next to me on the puddlejumper flight to Seattle. The man who could not shut the fuck up if he were told, "Any phoneme you utter will instantly cause a catastrophic Rube Goldbergian chain reaction that will end all life in the UNIVERSE". The man who waxed poetic about such a variety of topics, all centered around how smart, wealthy, educated, and cultured he was.
I have to assume he intended to slip me a roofie in my complimentary in-flight beverage, which I smartly refused. I also clenched with such barbaric strength (I like to prepare for the worst) that I'm amazed I didn't stand up at the end of the flight to a perfect tiny egg-shaped diamond; and it also probably helped that I made frequent mention of being riddled with "AIDS, herp, syph, and pretty much anything that'll cause dickrot".
Nothing would deter this man until I pretended to drift off to sleep, at which point I assume he went all Leo (a la Titanic), and painted my portrait. Thankfully the steamy-window-hand-slap didn't happen...unless I've blocked it out.
3) The asshat in the Jeep that thought driving halfway onto the shoulder while being two feet behind me would properly indicate, "Please step aside, my fellow man! I wish to venture faster than most!" The aforementioned asshat also apparently cannot use his eyes in this plane of existence in order to calculate various things like solid objects...
As in cars. Everywhere. That prevented me from making way, or even spontaneously Tony Jaa-ing my Mazda 3 all over I-5 in an attempt to get out of poor Mr. AssJeep's way. The only solace I take in that experience is knowing I probably added substantially to his road rage when I consistently took my foot off the gas pedal every time he got too close, and then sped up again if my drifting back would in any way create a gap for him to change lanes.
Goodnight Diary!
Wubs,
Cacky Poo
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Button pusher
I'm walking Izzy to the room she shares with Natalie (who is already sleeping inside). Izzy whispers to me, "Tali sweeping? Awww, Tali sweeping!" We get inside, she gets tucked in and cuddles up to her favorite stuffed animal, Gnocchi, and damn near bellows:
Izzy: "TALI HAS A PAI [her word for pacifier]?!"
Me: o.O!!!!!! /whispering frantically, "Shhh! Sweetpea, Tali's asleep. Be quiet!"
Izzy: /still breaking decibel records, "Ohhhh! TALI HAS A PAI?! TALI A-MAKE-A SOUND?! /mimics using a pacifier"
Me: o.#!!!!!!!!! /whispering, hysteria starting to kick in, "For GOD'S SAKE, be quiet! She's asleep! Yes! Yes she has a pacifier!"
Izzy: /whispers again, "Awww, Tali sweeping!" /goes to sleep with a smile of perfect contentment
Izzy: "TALI HAS A PAI [her word for pacifier]?!"
Me: o.O!!!!!! /whispering frantically, "Shhh! Sweetpea, Tali's asleep. Be quiet!"
Izzy: /still breaking decibel records, "Ohhhh! TALI HAS A PAI?! TALI A-MAKE-A SOUND?! /mimics using a pacifier"
Me: o.#!!!!!!!!! /whispering, hysteria starting to kick in, "For GOD'S SAKE, be quiet! She's asleep! Yes! Yes she has a pacifier!"
Izzy: /whispers again, "Awww, Tali sweeping!" /goes to sleep with a smile of perfect contentment
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)