Chicken and Sponge

Apology

I have removed my last two posts.  Apparently my attempt at humor fell far short and I hurt my mate and I can't live with the wind chill factor around here. Sometimes we mistakenly think the depth of our feelings is understood, when it isn't.  So, I'm sorry for the weak humor and what was perceived as serious insults.  Never my intention. I can give up a blog much more easily then my relationship. So...apologies to Mick...and apologies to our readers.  By the way, did you know that Mercury went retrograde on December 26 and will remain so until January 15?  Yeah, yay.

A New Look

  Christmas is over and new years is just a couple of days away. I know I already told you about my new years resolution but this year I plan on having two resolutions. I am going to attempt to rearrange our house and give it a totally new look. Oh how I want to change things. I'm pretty sick of looking at our living quarters the way they are. Do you think I am going to get a little bit of rebuttle from my better half for this one? ABSOLUTELY!

Our living room is small for being the room that everyone hangs out in. The ripped up couch and loveseat take up almost all the room the way it is situated right now. We have some shelving that our tv and other electronics sit on that is not easily movable. In order for the so-called entertainment center to be moved anywhere I will have to make sure there is a satellite hookup there. Not going to be easy.

The bedroom is another job to tackle all by its self. How Vick managed to get all that stuff in there is beyond me. I'm not sure if we need it all in there but that is the way it is right now. Sometimes I think her packrat mentality gets the best of her. After all why does she have to have the biggest dresser? A dresser that is definitely made for a couple. I know she owns alot of clothes but really, how many does she wear! Not only is the dresser full but the closet is stuffed too. Sometimes I think I'm married to Carrie Bradshaw(sex in the city).

Sam and Miranda's rooms are off limits for me. I have no problem vaccuming and shampooing Sam's room but I won't touch anything in the highschoolers room(Miranda). Not because I don't want to, but I'm afraid something could bite back if I touch it. Actually she has been doing better lately. But sometimes you have to put on the nuclear waste uniform to enter. We didn't have that problem when we were that age did we? I didn't think so.

I realize that we have consilidated two households into one. I also know that it is hard to throw things out when you don't have much. But my motto is if you haven't touched it in at least 5 years you need to get rid of it. Vick says that I don't apply this rule to my stuff, but how much stuff do I have. Outside of tools I don't own anything that we don't use as a family. I'm not saying that it should go to the dump because I believe that everything we can recycle should be recycled. At the least given to places like Goodwill.

So with this new resolution that is probably going to get me in hot water, comes the new year. And as the new year progresses, along will come spring. Spring, that wonderful time of year when you can throw all the unused crap out the door and blame it on whoever started spring cleaning.

Holiday Wrap-up

Oh, tiny fiber-optic tree, you are about to come down.

This was the holiday that didn't seem like much of a holiday to me.  That is why I forgot to call people on Christmas.  I worked that day and things weren't quite as I'd imagined.

Being Christmas, none of my three very challenging men at the group home had work that day.  They were all three home for the entire day.  I repeat, the entire day.  Being Christmas, the one woman who lives in the group home, in the other half of the duplex, didn't go to employment either.  But her parents wanted her to come visit and that meant that my co-worker had to drive her to Sheridan and stay during the visit and then drive back home.  Home, where I was alone with my three guys.  For the entire day.  OK.  An exaggeration.  I was alone with them until 11:40 when another co-worker came on shift, but her five-month-old daughter was with her so she was not able to hang out in the one half of the duplex for long.

Everyone opened their presents soon after I arrived at work.  Everyone needed help opening.  Most were excited except the man that I work with the most, and nothing but sunshine can excite him.  And coffee.  He got lots of coffee for Christmas, but unless it's steaming in a cup, it doesn't look like coffee to him.  So he never realized how happy and excited he should have been, though he will enjoy that coffee when I make it up for him.  After presents, and pictures, and candy for breakfast (dessert, really), the guys trooped back over to their side of the duplex and the woman and my co-worker left for Sheridan.  One of my guys, who resembles nothing more than a big, hibernating bear, went into hibernation in his recliner for the duration of the day, briefly waking for meals and to use the bathroom.  My guy who loves the sun, stood in his room in front of the heater and began to wait that long wait for sunny days to return.  And the youngest, most challenging man, the one given to yelling and outbursts and teasing and tormenting and wanting you to repeat EVERYTHING he says, was very much himself.  He'd started out the day trying to throw the lid to the toilet tank into the bathtub, which happened to have my grumpy sun-starved guy in it at the time.  Luckily, he missed, though the lid did, in fact, shatter.  And I was grateful that it didn't happen on my shift because we all would rather not have to write the incident reports, though we all get blessed with them on a regular basis.

So it was Christmas, though an odd Christmas for me.  I'd wanted to take the guys caroling.  Since you don't know these gentlemen, you can't possibly realize just how funny that is.  Trust me,  it's hysterical.  As would be any household we'd show up at to carol.  Or grunt, howl, run, pinch, and publicly disrobe.  Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!

Kept the guys as happy and content as circumstances would allow.  Usually that means food.  Enjoyed visiting and working with my co-workers.  And I was really ready when 4:00 rolled around and I clocked out and went home.

I walked in the door to be greeted with, "Look at Louise's back.  Are those black things fleas?"  Then I heard, "And when I brushed Hedwig today it was like she was covered in pepper."  This is Christmas Day, folks.  Is this what you want to hear when you get home from work on Friday?  Is this what you want to hear on Christmas Day?  On the other hand, how do you feel about having fleas in your house?  By the way, bad head cold for Sam, and my nose plugged up and throat threatening me with soreness.  Christmas Day.  And right now, too, for that matter.  So I said, "Well, get on your shoes.  We're going to the store."

We drove to Wal-mart and the empty parking lot was the first clue.  Drove to Safeway and praise be!  Cars!  Clerks!  They were open!  Over-priced pet products!  But who cares?  We drove home to administer treatment/punishment.

The dogs didn't need anything.  They'd had flea crap applied to their backs about two or three days before and those black flecks Mick had asked me about were probably dead fleas.  He can bathe them in a day or two.  But the cats, our poor, strictly indoor cats had been fraternizing with the enemy, Hedwig much more than Hecate, and they had to be bathed.

I'd rather bathe all three pets in a row than have to bathe Hedwig at all.  The family victim, the one who always gets beat up on, pounced and trounced by all the others, suddenly becomes consumed with demonic energy at bath time.  Fueled by terror and claws.  So I told Mick he'd have to help me and, by God, definitely easier and definitely a two-person job. Why had I been doing this on my own?  And I have discovered that I use the word definitely far too often because now my only verbal guy at work, the one who wants you to repeat everything, is going around saying "definitely" and he's saying it all the time.

We had decided to have Christmas dinner on Saturday, the 26th, when I could be home all day and help.  I didn't help, but we did wait.  This, too, made Christmas not seem like Christmas.  That and work and flea baths.  Exhaustion, colds, the norm.

Christmas Eve is the night that we open gifts, so I guess I'm writing this in reverse chronological order.  Christmas Day sort of slid by and escaped me.  The cold, that keeps threatening me, is threatening me at present and the need to wrap this post up is pressing on me.

Also pressing, is my need to de-Christmasize the house and get all decorations put away.  I'm not a Scrooge by any means, but decorations left out too long quickly becoming a depressing reminder of sloth and procrastination.  Hope everyone enjoyed their Christmas and takes down their decorations before they become an eyesore.  More on the festivities later.

New Years Resolution Before New Years!

 
This will be the last picture you will see of me with the bag of cookies. From now on it will be healthy snacks.

Okay, so you probably know what the heck my resolution is going to be this year. It isn't quit smoking because I mastered that back on my 40th birthday, 11 years ago. Hooray for me! I can breath again! What a dumb thing to start in the first place. No, I quit drinking before Vick and I got married on my 35th birthday. So that just leaves the all mighty fat problem. And a BIG problem that is becoming.

I have always battled weight since I was a kid. I don't know why since I was an active lad playing ball continuously with my rival siblings. Maybe it was the boxes of cookies my grandmother would bring from her job that helped. Each box contained 5 dozen and boy did they taste good. Add a quart of milk and the tv and it was absolutely great. Or could it possibly have been the toast eating contest I had with my brother. 13 slices all smeared with butter and strawberry jam. Of course it couldn't be the time my brothers and I went to the all you can eat pizza buffet. I will spare any details but we were told we needed to stop. All you can eat! Really! I still dream of those days. But I guess those days are why I am writing to you about my new resolution. Or should I say ongoing resolution.

Like Vick has mentioned before we both would really like to get this weight off our bodies. As we get older it starts hurting a little more with the extra poundage. I am a big guy to begin with. Not overly tall but have a large frame. The doctors told my parents at birth that my skeleton was showing that I would be a tall man if I grew into my frame. I grew into it alright. Stopped going up at 6'3" and started going out ever since. I can fool alot of people with how much I weigh because of this frame. The weight I put on seems to go on evenly distributed thus not showing all of it in one place. It has even fooled me. NOT!

So, four days ago I started my regimen again. I was so close to a goal I had about a year and a half ago. It makes me sick to remember how easy it was at that time to whip out an hour of Jillian Michaels cardio or strength training. Now I have to struggle to get through the first segment which she recommends for beginners. I take her advice and  shut up and just do it. No phoning it in! I will get there again and this time I'll stay there.

My brother and sister came over yesterday for a little belated yuletiding. Actually they came to bring the kids a couple of presents. Oh. I also got a Blazer calendar from my brother. Sorry, but that is all the sports news you will get from me today.

 My sister has battled her own weight problem for about 4 years less than I have(difference in age for those of you that couldn't figure it out). But every time she comes over to visit I can really see her effort. This new found appearance has been going on for about the last year or so. Not that she hasn't had ups and downs in the past, but this time I think she really has it  whooped. I can't tell you how proud of her I am. Anybody that has battled a weight issue can relate. She has inspired me once again to finish what I should have 18 months ago. Way to go Cheryl!

Now it is our turn. Vick is going to join the biggest loser competition at her workplace. There is additional motivation in her doing so which I will leave for her to fill in all the details later. Myself, it has always been a competitive thing in the past. I really believe that is why I have failed numerous times over and over. Losing weight isn't about competing with your wife or siblings or friends. It's about changing yourself in everything you do. I am really ready to make these changes necessary to begin my new life and journey. I plan on keeping you informed of my progress through this new year so check back every day for updates.

This said I hope everyone had a great christmas and is going to have a wonderful new start to a new year!

Milestones For Autistic Teenagers

I thought this was going to be a fairly good picture and then what do I see?  Mick's disgusting firewood gloves.  Do not sniff.  I did that once, wondering if they needed to be washed.  What can I say?  Almost lost my lunch.

Now that I've reassured Mick that his post today was wonderful--only mention of sports being espn, now I have to find inspiration myself.  "Just don't rebutt me," Mick decreed.  So naturally, I'm going to rebutt away.

First item of business:  Christmas candy and chicken wings for breakfast.  For Sam, of course, not Mick.  Though he may have.  Either that or he was a good little fanatic with a piece of dry toast and one sliver of apple.  You never know.  No half-measures.  Now had I served a breakfast ( or more accurately, allowed a breakfast) of Christmas candy and chicken wings, I'd have been subjected to a lecture.  This is why it's good that he's currently the stay-at-home mom.  If (or hopefully when) our roles are reversed and back to normal, hopefully he'll have a better understanding of the difficult position of trying to influence Sam.  A thankless task to be sure.  Also, it's the Christmas season, so why not eat candy until you're sick and get it out of your system?  It's never actually worked for me, but it sounds like a decent theory.

The hot tub.  Nothing is more depressing ( total exaggeration, we can all think of something more depressing, but cut me some slack) than an empty, broken hot tub.  For awhile, just a week ago in fact, we had a broken hot tub filled with ice.  That was depressing, too.  The bill for fixing this hot tub would have been extremely depressing, but a very generous, crazy Aunt Gladys sent an early family Christmas present in the form of a check.  Thank you and bless you, Gladys.  I enjoyed my first soak since last April tonight.  Heaven.

As for Sam's art project covering her entire room yesterday, why oh why did I ever think I could give her a cute room?  Why did I go to the bother of painting not one dresser, but two?  Not to mention a desk.  Squalor.  Forget shabby-chic.  That trend is over.  Sam's room exudes an aura of...squalor, plain and simple.  However, I don't think squalor will meet with the same kind of trendy acceptance that shabby-chic did,  except in inner-city crack houses, perhaps.  Yes, squalor.  I'm ready to rip the carpet out of that room, at least, but Mick will not agree.  I think all it will take is one huge diarrhea accident that he has to deal with on his own while I'm at work and that will be it.  I'll come home to find her carpet waiting in the bed of the pick-up for dump day.  Had Mick been here for the diarrhea explosion this summer, when Sam got sick, he and I would no longer have carpet. I was positively shell-shocked and operating on automatic pilot for that disaster. You didn't think I could actually write a post and not touch on the subject of poop at some point, did you?

Speaking of Sam, and I'll spare you the details of the possible cyst/boil on her tail bone ( you'll have to call for details) which is the latest disturbing curiosity in our home, she has picked up a new little trait.  Debatable whether it's charming or not.  This ties in with what Mick calls her milestones.  Some milestones are definitely less charming than others, and when your child picks up teenage sarcasm, impatience, or flippancy (or in this case a combo of the three) it is very trying.

It used to be that when you'd ask Sam something or tell her something she didn't want to hear, she'd come back at you with, "Oh way!"  We could never understand if this meant "no way" or "go away" because either would have been appropriate.

Well, I want "Oh way" back because what I get  out of her now is a completely insincere, fast and high-pitched, "OK".  Doesn't sound objectionable at all in writing.  Something is definitely missing in the translation.  Mick swears he'll get video up and running on this blog soon, and Sam's "OK" should be one of our first short films.  It's infuriating.  Sometimes it's a fast, impatient, "ok, ok, ok, ok!"  Really what she's saying is, "Oh, just shut up!"  And I'd rather she said that.  It couldn't be any ruder.  But she's a teenager, right?

Speaking of teenagers, don't think that because I rarely mention Miranda, that we care about her less.  It is out of consideration and concern for her teenage feelings, that I studiously ignore her while blogging.  I can be an embarrassment, you know.  These days of Christmas break find Miranda with a head cold, using up all the kleenex but miraculously getting them into the garbage instead of littering the floor (of course, gross little Zeus may be eating them as they fall).  She has discovered that the recliner, which she has claimed as her own, is very comfortable to sit in upside down, meaning that her feet are on the headrest and her head is hanging down by the footrest. And then, when I come home from work, I get to hear her complain about being light-headed and not feeling very well. And while in this position she is rereading all the Anita Blake vampire hunter novels that we have ( about six or seven of them, I think), while trying to block out espn.  Not to mention her dad's booming voice when he calls his brother Frank to discuss, what else?  Sports.  See how neatly I brought that full circle tonight?  And me with only about half a brain left today.

We've always opened presents on Christmas Eve, as I always did growing up.  So, for Sam...One More Day!  And for me...Three more full days until the weekend!  Nothing I want more than to be able to linger in bed.

Christmas Break

 
As I sit here watching espn my mind is wandering, expecting to hear or see something happen. At the least having Sam come barreling through the living room bare pickle. So far nothing. That is an unusual thing for our household. She has been up and had breakfast which consisted of christmas candy followed by cold chicken wings. She made a trip to our recently fixed hot tub(YEA!)and is now watching her toy story dvd in her room. Almost makes me want to check on her but if I do she will think I'm bored and she will make the rest of the day very busy. Yesterday she was being good in her room and I finally couldn't take it anymore so I looked and she had painted her dresser and spilled paint on the carpet. Not to worry though. The paint is washable and of course her carpet is so foul it doesn't matter what she spills on it from this point. The downside of not checking on her frequently is that she will pick her clothes,sheets,blankets,or anything else she can pick apart. Lord knows Vick already has a mountain of clothes and such to mend. I'm hoping with the hot tub fixed she will refocus and spend more time in there thus not being able to  pick anything. She already picked the hot tub apart awhile ago so we had it Sammerised so we don't worry about that anymore. I guess the only thing that concerns me might be the presents I have under the tree. Grandma sent presents and I put them under the tree not thinking about the consequences. So far so good. Sam knows they are there since all she could ask last night was "open presents". I told her it would be 4 more days and she gave me that look. You know, the one where she dives in as soon as we turn our backs. Christmas has always been Sam's favorite holiday with all the decorations and of course the ritual of tearing wrapping paper as fast as she can until all presents are opened then she stops and will look at them. Vick and I get great joy out of this time of year and we really enjoy watching the kids open their presents. This year will not be as spectacular as past holidays but will be just as enjoyable as any we have had. Vick has mentioned in past posts about milestones. We haven't made it to christmas yet but I really feel like Sam understood me when I told her she would have to wait 4 more days. She has not tried to open or even looked at the presents at all today. A feat of this nature is taken for granted by most everyone, but in this family we acknowledge those accomplishments when they are achieved. MERRY CHRISTMAS SAM!

Four Days and Counting

Back when I was an Avon lady, I acquired lots of great Christmas decorations.  This Snoopy candle is one of my favorites and I never burn it.  Not that I have anything against burning candles.  I just have something against Samantha setting the house on fire.

Life is slightly bitter-sweet right now.  I have my lovely little family and we will have a wonderful Christmas together, but I really wish I was able to be home with them.  When we lived in Alaska, the bar was running all the time.  We took Christmas Eve off to go to the Stepanenko's Christmas Eve Smorgasbord, but even then, if any regulars wandered up our way, we'd unlock the door and let them self-serve for the evening.  Would any bar dream of doing that here?  Not everyone has family and sometimes a bar acts as a family for some people.  We're not here to judge.

I'm starting to have a different perspective on things.  Definitely miss self-employment.  For numerous reasons.  For instance, Friday night I went to a PCL Christmas party.  "You gotta go," people said, "it's a lot of fun."....????....I need to teach some people about having fun.  No offense, but it wasn't fun.  It reminded me of a big potluck which I used to get tortured with as a child and adolescent.  It wasn't a potluck, because no one had to bring food.  There was dessert and people milling around and there was going to be some drawings for prizes but we just couldn't hang in there long enough for that.  The only thing missing from the potlucks of my childhood was copious amounts of cigarette smoke to choke on.  Well, you can't have everything.  But fun?  Fun?

Looking back, we had a lot of fun when the kids were smaller and the bar was doing well, and Pelican was doing better than it is now, though not thriving even then.  The snow, the sledding, the parties (fun parties, not potluck-like parties), walk-around poker, and just a more casual, relaxed lifestyle.  Listening to the snow fall.  Watching the ravens wreak havoc in the garbage.  Admiring the kill when the self-described mighty hunters would stop by on their way home from hunting and leave the deer strapped to the back of their four-wheelers.  Then we'd say nothing as local dogs came by and sniffed, tasted, and peed on their trophies as the mighty hunters continued to order "just one more".  Now that is fun.  How I miss it.

This will be the first Christmas since I had kids that I won't be able to spend their whole Christmas vacation with them.  Usual monday-friday schedule for me.  That's ok.  Mick will spend it with them and they'll do fine. And if they don't, we'll both have something to write about.  That's the great thing about a blog, every misstep, every minor or major disaster is material for a post. I just feel like I'm kind of missing out on stuff right now  and I long for those lazy days of our past.  I long to savor each moment, making cookies, going sledding, visiting with friends over a glass of wine, and watching the kids open their presents.

So, I have a goal and that goal is eventual self-employment again. We mull over the possibilities.  Plus, full-time writing, so that I can take more time than what I give you these days.  Mick just walked in and asked if I was rebutting him.  I should have written a post on Thursday and then I could have and perhaps that would be more entertaining.  However, he cried so much about being misunderstood and under-appreciated and on and on, even threatening to take over the TV-- which was news to me because I'd thought he'd already done that years ago-- that I just didn't want to go there again.  He might feel compelled to further explain himself and go into some sort of soliloquy about sports and then my eyes would roll into the back of my head and I'd be forced to read about sports (which is difficult to do with your eyes glued to the back of your head) and act enthusiastic and supportive  and I just didn't pull it off so well last time.  He felt patronized...Yes, I digress.

I tell myself that my current experiences need to be savored because they are short-term.  I'm hoping that they're short-term and I'm trying to ensure that they will be short-term with better things to come.  But you never know what you will miss until you don't have it anymore.  I wonder if Mick can bake cookies?

The Woman Who Fell Off the Edge of the World, installment 41

As much as I'd like to respond to Mick's post of yesterday, today is Friday and that means novel installment.  So, perhaps Monday.  Or maybe I'll be nice instead, in honor of the holiday season.  And yes, I do realize that this installment, and a few others, seem to kind of meander around pointlessly.  And do you realize that this is a rough draft?  Yes?  It shows?  Well, I'll try to work on that.

    ****************************

    I awoke feeling very disoriented and like I was being watched.

    I was.   I jumped when I realized that Loki was sitting on the fiber behind me, watching me and Jaimie.  He chuckled at my discomfort, but said nothing.

“Jaimie, wake up, we have company.”

“Hmmm?”

    “Come on, wake up, we have company,” I said urgently.  I just didn’t know how to take this Loki character.  I’d worked with him a few times, but he spent so much time playing the enigmatic guru-type that I just didn’t know what was real and what was contrived. Most of it was contrived, I suspected.  The guy always answered a question with a question. I also didn’t know if he could be trusted or not.

    “Don’t wake her up on my account,” he said.  “But it’s almost 10:00 break, so I thought you might want to be warned before the wrong person stumbled over you.  Want to get a little work done, just in case Bill checks on you soon?  Now, it’s unlikely, but better to be prepared.”

    “Uh, sure.”  I kicked Jaimie awake and she got up with a scowl, then looked mildly apprehensive when she saw Loki.

    “So,” he said, “what were you girls supposed to be doing?”

    “We’re supposed to sort all this fiber,” I gestured around the room, “by size and then when done with that, make up a bunch of 50-pound boxes.”

    “Hmmm,” Loki said as he looked around.  “Most of this right here seems to be 50-pounders.  Why don’t I make up a bunch of boxes and you two try to straighten up the piles.  It’s mostly just two sizes, so it should be easy.  If you’d got straight to it, it would never have lasted you even till break time, but I think Bill’s too messed up to realize that.  Ok.  Let’s bust some of this out.”

    Jaimie and I both looked disoriented, but did as Loki suggested and sure enough, the mess really wasn’t that unorganized.  It was just falling over.  So we straightened.  He built boxes and within twenty minutes we’d finished almost half the upstairs.

    “There’s the bell.  See you, ladies,” and Loki touched his hand to his forehead in salute and ambled down the stairs.  

    We met Clark at the bottom of the stairs as he was coming out of the processing room.

    “Hey,”  I said.

    “What did he want?” Clark asked.  He looked disgruntled.

    “Well, I’m not sure.  He just showed up upstairs and helped us for a few minutes.”

    “Let’s sit outside.”

    “See you, “Jaimie called as she headed toward the bunkhouse.  Great, she’d continue to be useless and drowsy after break.

    “So what’s up?” I asked Clark.  It wasn’t raining so we sat and hung our legs over the side of the fuel dock.

    “Something’s not right about that guy.  I can’t believe I’m having to work with him.  Give me Enrico any day.”

    “Ah, come on, Loki isn’t that bad, is he?”

    “A complete phony.  I detest him.”

    I examined Clark’s profile and noticed that his jaw was clenched and set.  He looked grim and that made me realize that Clark never looked grim.  Superior, mischievous, disgusted, bored, mocking, yes, all those qualities were normal for Clark, but not grim.

    “Loki really got to you,” I remarked.  “Just what did he do?”

    Clark shook his head and starred out at the water.  “Nothing overt.  But he’s up to something.  I’m not sure what it is with him, but he isn’t what he tries to appear to be.”

    I said nothing, but I felt chilled and Steven Kane popped unbidden into my brain.  Crap.  Didn’t need to obsess about him.  “Do you think he’s using an alias?”

    Clark gave me the ultimate look of disgust and reluctant humor.  “Petra.”  He deadpanned.  “Petra.  The guy calls himself Loki.  Loki.  Do you really think his mom named him Loki?”

    I hit him with an impatient sigh and eye-rolling.  Two could play at this.

    “Clark.  Clark.  Don’t be deliberately obtuse.  Yes,  I’m pretty sure his mom didn’t name him Loki, but you never know.  People name their kids all kinds of weird stuff.  I meant do you think that this whole persona he’s presenting, do you think that he’s hiding who he really is?”

    “First, he’s too old to have a hippie mom who would have named him Loki.  But he’s old enough to be an old hippie and named himself that.  God, he’s so pretentious.”  The contempt just dripped from each syllable.  “I don’t know if he has a criminal past or not.  With the missing eye he might have.  Then again, there might be an eye under that eye patch, pretentious ass that he is.  Personally, I think he’s just really lame and mediocre and all this Loki crap is his attempt to make himself interesting.  Phony!”

    “Hmmmm.”  I replied.  I really didn’t know what to make of Clark’s reaction.

    “Promise me,” Clark said, looking all serious, “I mean it, promise me you won’t sleep with Loki.”

    My mouth dropped open in horror.

    “I mean it, Petra.  I want you to promise me you won’t sleep with that phony.”

    I should have blasted him and told him to mind his own business, but I was too repulsed at the thought of his fear and horrified that he had so little faith in me.

    “Don’t worry!  Not that it’s any of your business, but that just would never happen.”

    “Good.”   Clark nodded, still looking grim, but satisfied.  “I’d rather you slept with Tim than with that two-bit hustler.”

    That made me laugh.  “Two-bit hustler.  What crap have you been reading lately?”

    Clark smiled and didn’t answer.  “Come on, you lazy wench.  Back to the salt mines.”

    Clark helped me up and we moseyed back into the Crab Plant, no sign of Creepy Bill anywhere.

Sports and the Shockey household

   You can't imagine the thrill I got when my brother called me the other day and told me that Cliff Lee was being traded to the Seattle Mariners. I thought getting Chone Figgins from the Angels was cool but both Figgins and Lee! I can't wait until March and it isn't March Madness that I'm talking about. Any body that follows baseball knows that spring training starts in March. Let me back up a little. Cliff Lee was traded from the Phillies to Seattle. He is a starting pitcher that is going to give the Mariners probably the best 1-2 punch in the league now that he is teamed with Felix Hernandez. He won both games he started in the world series against the Yankees last year. Fantastic aquisition for the Mariners! You should see the look on my wife and daughters face when I told them the big news. Who? Where? When? "Can you turn the volume up a little Miranda. I can't hear." I'm not sure if they are ignoring me or they can't hear because Sam has her volume so loud the house shakes. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and guess it is Sam's tv volume. After all they really would like all the new info I have for them in the sportsworld. NOT! Actually Vick and Miranda are pretty good about letting me watch my sports on tv. For awhile anyway. A little while as far as Miranda is concerned. I normally head to the bedroom around 8:00pm. If Miranda has a show on and I am watching sports she always asks me around 6:30pm if I am tired because she says I look tired. This way she can have the tv and watch all her favorite shows plus the reruns. I do have a tv in the bedroom so I guess comprimising with her is not that big of a deal. Tonight I have a Trailblazer game to go to so Miranda will be able to bogart the tv from 5:00pm until she goes to bed. Sports have always been a part of my life and will continue to be as long as I can still see or hear. So I guess Miranda will have to hope that in my later years that I go to bed earlier so she doesn't have to compete with me for the tv. After all, aren't sporting events just a competition?

  

Usurped!

No one likes you, Hedwig.

I re-entered the work force out of necessity.  I didn't resent it because one must do what one must do.  And in this economy, I'm grateful for the job.  HOWEVER...

I liked, no, far more than liked, being the full-time, stay-at-home writer.  True, I made no money at it.  Yet.  But writing the blog and working on the novel were immensely satisfying.  Trying to do it after working an eight-hour day, or the forty-hour week in a group home for disabled adults, was entirely exhausting.  So, when Mick called me at work Tuesday morning to update me on Sam (still asleep and staying home with a head cold) and informed me that he'd just written a post for the blog because my "readers expect to have something to read", imagine my shock.  Imagine my pleasure, my relief, my "hey-this-is-my-territory-feelings".

It's kind of like being the center, or off-center, of Sam's universe for twelve and three-quarter years and then coming home one day to, "Mom, the door!"

If nothing else, this new writing arrangement will be informative.  Mick and I will never have to talk about our feelings ( we never do), never have to admit that we're wrong, or even worse, admit that the other is right.  And we can find out what the other one really thinks about things without getting mired in a "discussion".

So, in reference to yesterday's post and a conversation Mick had with his sister over the weekend:  Let's start with laundry.  Even when separated by more than 1000 miles, Mick would only wash and dry, but never fold and put away.  Once I was gone for the summers up in Pelican, Mick would brow beat Lacie into folding his laundry as it engulfed the living room, obstructing the view of Lisianski Inlet.  Then I went to work and the laundry still needed to be done.  Don't think I never do laundry anymore.  Not only do we do laundry ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT LONG at work, but I will throw a load in in the morning and/or when I get home at night.  But like at work, there is alot of laundry in this house.

But Mick still doesn't like to put it away.  I won't criticize his folding, even though he has no idea how to fold the towels so that they will fit in the closet, but I do have a bone to pick about one thing I heard him tell his sister.  He won't put away any clothes but his because he doesn't know what belongs to whom (obviously not a direct quote since Mick wouldn't dream of using the word whom).  Then he amended that comment by saying that he knew his clothes and mine.  But he doesn't know who the others belong to?  He can't figure this out?  Folks, the other clothes in this house would belong to Miranda (size 3) and to Sam (size 22).  Not only that, but Sam is the owner of all the "Frankenstein" clothing, the horribly patched-re-patched, funky-stitched and pieced monstrosities that I keep trying to keep her body covered with.  Doesn't know whose clothes belong to whom.  Uh-huh.

Let's move on to clutter.  Mick says something about clutter "with text".  I believe this may mean that he'd like to throw my books away.  I think.  I can't imagine what else "clutter with text" could refer to.  And what is this about it being ok to throw away junk mail?  Hey, where are my catalogs?  This is catalog season after all and nary one to be found around here.  And yes, Mick, I know I can't order anything, but I can still look!  That's free! The point about Mick's concept of clutter is:  he never wants to throw away his stuff.  That, after all, is good stuff, not clutter.  Clutter is my stuff.  Stuff with text.  Mick, keep your hands off my stuff.

Sharing the Chicken and Sponge blog may be the beginning of a great thing.  Maybe the readers will like it.  Maybe they will love it.  Maybe they'll  tell their friends to tune in.  And Mick and I will never have to speak to each other again.  He can write in the morning and watch sports in the evening, while I work on the novel one night, and write blog rebuttals the next.  The perfect silent marriage, the perfect silent partnership.  Stay tuned.