I have spent the last week of my life with exactly zero exciting things happening.

I have racked my brains, looked through my pictures, replayed the most mundane of all the days events and to no avail! It turns out when all you do is work and raise teenage hamsters not a lot of things are noteworthy.

I can tell you however that I am about ready to flea the country as long as it means that I get to leave my offspring behind!

The newest threat from Thing 1 who is now taller than I am BTW is that he is no longer going to eat. If he gets in trouble, if he has to turn off electronics, if he is asked to let the dog out. Really any and all things lead to this threat. Yesterday he laid his whole self out on the couch and refused his nightly sustenance. When I explained to him that if he is going to act like a 3 year old he is going to have to go to bed. His response was that he was clearly not a three-year-old because a 3-year-old was not courageous enough to miss all the meals provided him. In case you are wondering neither is he.

I suppose I should be grateful that this is his latest and greatest because at least hunger strikes are quiet. For the last couple of weeks, he has also taken to yelling at ear shattering levels. Then again, I probably don’t have to tell you this whereas you no doubt have heard him all the way over in Cal-I-for-ni-a! The things he yells are downright comedic. I mean at least they would be if I wasn’t worried that he was causing me to go deaf and all. I am making him go to trek which is apparently the same as torturing him. He got in the car after having to learn how to square dance and was then denied a treat because they ran out and told me that in no uncertain terms would he be going. He then informed me that he was going to eat soap and die and that would then teach me not to push things on him. I have also had him tell me that he is going to burn down my house, cut my car in half, and shatter all the windows in my house which has led me to wonder if I am raising the hulk. I would actually support any and all of those actions if I got to watch any of them transpire. I mean to tell you I have watched the kid try to light a candle and use 45 matches so I feel confident in saying that my house is safe.

Really though my favorite is when he tells me he is going to run away and then proceeds to try to slither all of his giant uncoordinated self out his bedroom window. It is a tall window but only 18 inches from the floor which is problem number one.  There is no real good way to attack hurling oneself from it. It also has a giant tree that sits approximately 3 feet from it so as soon as any body part exits the domain it runs smack dab into a trunk. The show is even more spectacular when he is trying to jump on his huffy bike and pedal away. I am telling you hormones are the best!

Today just as I was reorganizing my finances and seriously contemplating selling a kidney on the dark web to pay for boarding school because I can take no more something amazing happened. He came home from school and got his cleaning assignment and did it! He then went on to vacuum the living room floor and bring all of his laundry to the laundry room and unload the dishwasher. I thought about questioning things but it was so glorious that I decided not to jinx it. Then I was reminded that that same sulking angry boy is the one who made me a mom. The one who had giant blue eyes and an ET finger that pointed at all the things with wonderment. The kid who loved to be outside and ride his mach 5 which was just a ghetto trike from the 70’s. The boy whose greatest wish was to ride the bus to school and who thought I gave him the world when I talked my brother into giving him a tour of a bus compound when he didn’t qualify for school bus riding. The same kid who giggles at my jokes and tells me he loves me every night and still tries to climb on my lap even though his lap is officially bigger than mine. That is when I realized that I don’t need exciting, I don’t need adventures, I don’t need the world simply because I already have it. Even better I have it for eternity.

suns out guns out

Welp I don’t want to jinx it or anything but I think that spring may be starting to spring. Of course, now that I have said this out loud mother nature is going to recant the sunshine and send us back three spaces to snow.

I have been watching the weather like a hawk.  2 weeks ago, I made the comment to someone at work that there was no longer snow in the gutters which meant that I could finally go cycling. No sooner had that thought process escaped my lips did it start snowing. I was more than a little upset but continued to fix my bird eyes on the goal waiting and praying. This week the clouds parted and the old mercury stick showed a balmy 46 which I jumped at. I quickly called Kate and we both dusted off the old cycling shoes, threw some air in the tires and clipped in as fast as we could.

Honestly the sound of shoes clicking into place was one of the sweetest sounds I have ever heard and the whole first mile of our ride there was much happy screeching and fast pedaling. We went out with the intention of doing a 7-mile loop given that it was still not exactly perfect weather, we haven’t cycled in 5 months, and there is still a ton of gravel strewn about the roads in the country in the name of slick road prevention. We came to the fork in the road where we can turn left and venture further into no man’s land or turn right and head back into civilization. I asked Kate which way we were heading and she confidently announced that left was fine by her. We decided that we would cycle down to the river bottoms where the great crash of 2018 took place then head back in. What we forgot was that to get to the river bottoms is a 10-mile ride.

 We got to our spot and turned and that is when I felt the consequences of our decision settle in. We had luckily taken water because Kate is clever even though I figured we wouldn’t need it for such a short ride. Turns out I needed it a mere 2 miles in because my mouth was gaping open like a happy canine for the entirety of ride which makes a human mighty parched. What we didn’t take was any sort of nutrition and suddenly my legs were as heavy as though I was wearing cement shoes. I mentioned this to Kate who said oh I have some gels do you want some? I don’t particularly care for gels where as they have the exact same texture as scooping some Vaseline out of the container and I might argue the same flavor. I however was in no position to be choosy about such things and agreed to share one with her knowing full well my water levels were too low to try to wash an entire packet from my gob. It was only after I sucked it passed my beaver teeth that I realized they were from LAST season and were cast off flavors her brother had given her because the bike shop where he works can’t even convince people to purchase them. I made all sorts of heavenly bargains to actually swallow it and then my body being the jerk that it is decided that heavy legs were not a good enough reason to ingest such swill. I immediately started doing the back of mouth pukes. The kind where the offense item in question is not expelled but rather your flesh burns from the bile that leaked out in a half way attempt to clear the road. The bile in turn caused wicked heartburn and a flavor that again could not be washed out because I had a single water bottle not the 2 I needed so along I rode with heavy legs, a burning throat and heat from heartburn that could warm the souls of even the most black soul. I thought that eventually I would get my second wind but my body just laughed and laughed at that notion. By mile 16 I was so ready to be out of the saddle and I stood up to allow blood to flow to my sore extremities. It was a religious experience whereas I immediately knew my legs couldn’t hold me and I felt Lola swerve and I silently screamed out help me Jebus knowing I wouldn’t have the strength to unclip in time to prevent myself from becoming street meat.  I guess my prayers were answered because I didn’t die which was just a little sad since I knew I had more miles to go.

The next 4 miles ticked along and I knew that when it was time to turn for home that my inner endurance athlete wouldn’t allow me to leave the extra half mile on the table so with all that I had I continued to pedal so that we could round it out to 20. As we got to the stop sign in front of my house, I had Kate call the mileage and was mortified to hear 20.5 which meant we circled the block to get 21. We had accidently gone an additional 14 miles. Swinging my leg off the bike was tricky but the endorphins quelled the urge to black out. My boys brought oranges and blueberries as the lights danced in my head and suddenly all the leg fatigue and heartburn in the world didn’t hold a candle to the joy that is the first ride of the season.

I would like to pretend that my life is a fairy tale and that was the end of the story. Thing 2 reminded me that he had an all-area concert that night which meant my now sore body had to sit on bleachers at the middle school for 2 and a half hours! Today my tailbone is asking for a new home and my hip flexors have submitted their request for a weeks’ vacation. Jokes on them for tomorrow we ride again!

Who let the dogs out

Life continues to move along here in the frozen tundra. I have given up hope that words like spring, grass and sunshine actually mean anything given that all I see is dead, snow, and dirty heaps. For a moment there was a little bit of hope. In fact, it rained and exposed nearly 2 feet of dead grass covered in snow mold. But then mother nature wanted to make sure that we all knew exactly who was boss and it dumped 6 inches in one day shortly thereafter. This has become the new pattern. Wind and rain to carve out a little meltage followed promptly by a replacement snow.  It is getting really old really fast. Then I remembered that we are simply in second winter. I keep flapping my gums about second winter in the off season and everybody looks at me like I am a loon. Look whose is laughing now! In case you are wondering it is not me. We are in second winter for Pete’s sake. 

Things are getting serious though. The other day I took the wonder pup on a walk and I couldn’t figure out what was so different about the road we were on. It is a road in my subdivision and so I travel it with great regularity. I had to ponder on it for a moment. I thought that a tree had been ripped out, a house torn down or some other construction project. Much to my horror I realized that what was missing was the 14-foot snow pile that had been pushed there all winter long. It had melted or been pushed to some other location. Before you think that I have taken crazy pills I would like to inform you that there was a guy one street over in a bobcat pulling the snow berms from the front of his house out into the road and squishing them so as to expedite their melting process. This is how desperate we have all become. But perhaps no one is more desperate than I to see grass.

Simon has taken a great aversion to going outside to relieve himself. He was born in October and has never actually seen grass. I have been informed by the interwebs that going on grass in is an innate desire in dogs but I can’t confirm this due to our lack of said green stuff.  All he knows is that when his paws get cold it must be the spot to go. The boys are insistent that they take him into the basement which has epoxy that is, you guessed it, cold so if he wanders down to check out the latest smash bros session he will most likely have himself a little pit stop. The other day I was sitting in my office when I noticed that it smelled a little off. Much to my horror I looked over and spied with my little eyes a giant steaming dog poop. I got up and went upstairs to get the carpet cleaner and when I rounded the corner spied with my little eyes a second dog poop. If I was upset about the first one, I was angry about the second. I reminded myself that he is a puppy and can’t use people words and went about fetching my chemicals. He had stepped in one of his poops and walked it up the stairs so I knelt down to scrub it out. In case there was not enough fecal matter I went ahead and knelt smack dab in the center of a whiz puddle. It was enough to send me into a tizzy. I cleaned it up, went to the office to clean up the first mess and that is when I noticed that there were several dried pee stains throughout the living room floor. OF COURSE THERE WERE BECAUSE I LIVE WITH BOYS! I also noticed that both the things had cozied up in various parts of the basement and there were dirty socks, unmade guest beds, and stains on the carpets in the bedrooms. I stormed through the basement with a soaking went whiz knee picking up what felt like the aftermath of a drunken squirrel party all the while writing a fiery dissertation to my human offspring about the ramifications that were soon to follow. 

Naturally they were at the temple doing baptisms for the dead, prolly cuz Jesus knew this was the only thing that would save them so my strongly worded convictions had no ears to fall upon.

I decided that the root of all of my problems was the stupid Nintendo switch so with all my hulk smash strength I moved the entertainment center and removed all of its guts from the T.V.  put it in a box and hid it.  I then waited, stroking a hairless cat I borrowed in a chair for the victims to arrive. (okay that part is a lie but holy crap can you imagine if I had managed to pull that off?!?) I informed them when they returned that not only was the switch gone, but they were no longer welcome in my basement. The weeping and wailing that ensued was pretty intense but only fueled my angry fire. If their father had taken it away, he would have caved after two days.  My uterus gives me the ability to harness my anger and stay laser focused on doling out punishment so I did not. I have successfully used this learning moment to have them clean the basement, their bedrooms, and the playroom. I was still not ready to relinquish the basement back but I got duped.

Apparently, my son who is in the teacher’s quorum presidency planned an activity revolving around the stupid gaming system pre-maternal freak-out. I have had to dig the thing out for a one-day time out on the punishment and allow 8 stinky teenagers to come into my basement. Well played Karma well played. So help me Jebus, if I go downstairs and found additional weedle stains no amount of deity induced grace will save them!

So to sum it up, I need grass for my pupper, a fumigating machine for my basement after the 8 teenagers evacuate it this evening, and a rental agency that will loan me a hairless cat for my future endeavors.

Doggone crazy

This week I was forced to come to the realization that I have officially slipped over the edge and have become an insane dog lady. Full fledge talk to them, dress them up, and treat them as if they are a member of the family even if they are not even the same species level of crazy.

It all started when I went to the Dillard’s to look for new office clothes Old Man Myers. My father has graciously allowed him to become the warm body of the office for the remainder of tax season. This is the nice way to say that he does the crap work that no one else really wants to do. However, while he is doing the crap work, he is not allowed to look like crap so away we went.  Given that all the holidays are over stores are putting things on tremendous clearance which makes my soul incredibly happy. Of course, given that the whole store is practically on sale I wasn’t really going to sit and look at men’s socks and ties so I ventured off. Whilst alone I discovered candles and dog sweaters. You bet your bottom dollar I went ahead and picked me up both of those items. They only had the one sweater which was a blessing because I went a little hog wild and decided that if 1 candle on clearance was a good idea imagine how great 14 would be! Can you imagine how nuts it would be to own 14 sweaters !?!  I did eventually come to my senses and returned all but 2 of the candles, but the tags had already come off the sweater and it brings me much joy! He looks super fancy whereas it is a grey cable knit with a red collar. He also looks slightly embarrassed to be seen it which almost made me consider not taking him out in it. That’s when I realized that the crazy had started. I was considering the thoughts and feelings of a dog! The slope became steeper and I fell even further.

I am trying to convince the Wonderpup that he likes car rides. If I ever get to leave Rexburg again, I am going to need to take him with me and I can’t do that now given the way he chooses to ride. He sits in my lap and wiggles like he is trying to make shake and bake chicken for pete’s sakes! Eventually he wears himself out and then passes out which I am almost certain can not be good for him for a myriad of reasons. I have been taking him on small jaunts and on Saturday enlisted my niece to be the holder so that I could drive. I had to take Ma back to her car and thought it would be the perfect distance. Kate held him, sang in his ear, and almost demonstrated proper dog form by sticking her out the window but changed her mind when the frigid air hit her snout. All was going well when I remembered he was out of his water additive. It this stuff I put in his water that prevents plaque and keeps bad breath at bay. I also decided that I needed to buy him a dog harness to replace his leash. The instructions for measuring for those things is about as simple as solving all the mysteries of the universe so I thought taking my dog inside of a store and letting him try it on would remove all of the complications. They sell both the additive and the harnesses at the CAL ranch and I thought to myself that a store that caterers to animals would surely allow me to bring my animal into their establishment so away we went. It was only as I hit the parking lot that I realized that I didn’t have his leash but I couldn’t be bothered with small details such as that so against the better judgement of perhaps the whole world I took my pupper unleashed inside of a store.

I stopped and asked permission to let him try on the harness and the teenager told me of course with his mouth, but his eyes were screaming lady your dog is unleashed and you appear to be insane but you are also giant so proceed. We found the isle and the true adventure began. It turns out that there are at least a bagillion leashes, harnesses and vest on the market. I found one that I thought would fit and that is when I learned that if the instructions for measuring are vague and complicated the actual inserting of an animal into a harness is darn near impossible. There is no real way to tell which side goes on the belly and there are 3 holes instead of I don’t know say 4 which is how many legs a dog has. There is a combination of buckles, snaps, fasteners and loops that would make any souls head spin. The list looks even bigger to a soul who is holding a scared puppy who is trying to kamikaze from my death grip to meet his imminent doom on the tiles below. As if the combination of closures isn’t enough the use the most random breeds to indicate what size one needs to outfit their animal makes the problem even bigger. One of their really crappy “helpful” breed choices was terrier. Who on earth owns just a terrier? Are they not aware that there are at least 50 types? I might have made that number up, mainly because I did a quick google search to validate myself and it required reading and math to come up with the real number and aint nobody got time for that. Seriously though how in the devil am I supposed to know how big my dog is in relation to other dogs? At first Kate and I tried to just shove him into a few harnesses. It ended badly so then we upped the game and googled dogs of similar size. While I was trying to do scientific research, I set my dog down. He immediately started to lick the floor, and to add insult to injury google also didn’t have an answer to that question. I am beginning to think google can’t solve all of my problems after all but I digress. Realizing that wasn’t going to end well I sat on the filthy floor instead and put him in my lap.  I was in too deep to consider exactly how vile that floor was. I then tried to distract him with a toy. I figured it would add to the allure when another human bought it and gave it to their animal because now it would smell like another dog and don’t all dogs really want that instead of new toy smell? The only thing Simon wanted on the toy was the tag and I didn’t want to have to buy the toy after he destroyed the tag so I put it back. At this point a girl had wandered onto the isle and had very judgey eyes. I knew she didn’t need anything after exactly 2 seconds but was only there to witness the circus act currently in progress on aisle 9. I remained cool and didn’t screech Get outta here creep in hopes that karma would bless me. Thankfully it did, that or Kate is much better at technology than I am and she sussed out which size we would need and bless her little soul also figured out how to correctly get the dog in to boot. She got him in there and as a cosmic joke it was too large. She too was in too deep and decided that she would simply tighten it and using her teeth and sheer force of will got the sliding things to move to shrink it down. By this point the doggo was not having any of this and out of desperation I opened a treat and shoved it in his general direction. I was so desperate I didn’t even check to see if it was gluten free and decided that if it wasn’t it would be my penance for making bad decisions. I quickly explained to Kate that it was the exact same thing as giving jelly beans to a toddler in the grocery store which both justified my actions and placated her. By some miracle everything worked and I almost pushed my luck in trying to decide if I really wanted a different color. Kate quickly brought me back to the urgency of the situation and we made our way to checkout.

I figured we were home free but of course my treat didn’t have a bar code and the guy had to have a person go check the price. Some guy walked over and started to pet Simon telling us how he had a Boston Terrier as well and how he loved them all. All that validation was too much for my boy and he lost it and whizzed all down Kate’s shirt. While her luck had turned for the worse, I used the delay to realize that they had over charged me for the harness. She lost, I won which is about as an accurate description of life as I can see.

 Luckily, she loves me and not only forgave me instantly but also helped to wrangle my dog into his handsome sweater and new harness and came with me on a walk while her shirt was in the wash. I wonder if she will agree to go boot shopping for him next week? I will keep you posted. Until then here is a bonus picture. 

Lord of the flies

I hate whole bananas. I will eat them if they are blended into a smoothie or baked into a bread but the texture of them is awful. I want to like them. They are cheap and really portable and apparently chock full of good things for you.  Every couple of years I try to convince myself that I have grown as a person and that maybe just maybe I can eat one whole. This always ends in me gagging two bites in and muscling through with quivering chin much to the delight of my children.
With that being said only primate houses purchase more bananas then I do in a week. They are a hot commodity at our house and I am happy to chuck those nasty buggers in my cart and then never pay attention to them again.
A few weeks ago for some unknown reason there were 2 bunches of bananas that weren't eaten. Old Man Myers declared that he would be making banana bread. Observe how he didn't ask me to make banana bread but made a declarative statement. I went about my day  basking in how glorious my spouse is that not only does he help with the household chores but that he was going to bake as well.
As you know I have the attention span of a goldfish and as soon as the conversation was over I had nearly forgotten that it happened. Big mistake. Three days later those same bananas were still in the cupboard but instead of a happy shade of yellow they were a disturbing hue of black. I checked in with him about the promise of banana bread and again received a yes I am going to make that. You can then imagine my horror when another 2 days passed and the same bananas were there. Realizing that I had been punked out I picked them up to throw them out. That is when I was accosted by at least 6 million fruit flies.
I have never had to deal with fruit flies and as luck would have it my first encounter is with a dadgum infestation. We have tried everything. Old Man Myers bought fogging spray to kill them. I thought it was over kill and teased him that he was bringing a gun to a knife fight. Turns out he didn't. Even though I sacrificed being out of my house for three hours and having to rewash every dish in the cupboard and wiping down every surface it didn't work. Then I bought these traps at the  walmart and figured that that would do the trick. In a show of defiance all those little creeps did was sit on the top of the trap never actually going in. Then I went on the old interweb and asked how to make my own traps since obviously the ones I bought were made of substandard material. It suggested cider vinegar in the bottom of a jar. You know what that did. Made my kitchen smell like vinegar and made me the laughing stock of the fly community for being so naive. I then went and watched a tutorial on youtube just in case I had somehow not fully understood the inner workings of  how to pour liquid into a vessel. They suggested making a cone out of paper and that if I was serious that instead of fruit or vinegar making a solution of yeast and sugar. Desperate I agreed. This was an unmitigated disaster as I underestimated the growing power of yeast and it quickly saturated my cone thus rendering it useless. With none of the traps working I have taken to flapping my arms in the air and then trying to smash them between my giant neanderthal hands. I know what I am doing but I am sure to the outside world it must look like I have lost my everloving mind as I am swinging my ape arms and clapping with reckless abandon.
I didn't think that things could get any worse but yesterday when I opened up the pantry to pull things out to make dinner I was shown that they indeed could. Right there on top of the trap that was supposed to be helping me rid the problem were two flies caught up in a fly sexual encounter. I guess fly poison is a turn on for some? Or perhaps they were just pre-verts that wanted to get caught cuz of the thrill and all. I did the only rational thing and turned a cup over the trap. Luckily for me they were much too busy to notice. Hope they enjoy their new abode when there new crop of miscreant children flies arrive.
To add insult to injury I then had to explain to both Thing One and Two why there was a cup in there and then threaten bodily harm if they were to flip it and let those fornicators out. Try to keep a straight face while explaining fly copulation. I hope Mother Nature is really pleased with herself this week. On the upside I am getting really good at the clapping. Iffin' you ever need me to cheer you on all it will take is two bunches of ripe bananas and empty promises of baked goods.

Tri And Stop Me

Recently I was the recipient of a Hardy family group text. Normally I try to ignore these encounters because it almost always ends up with someone involved in the conversation showing off some form of nudity. If by some miracle there is no naked bits shown one can at least count on a million notifications coming through since there are six million of us. The topic of this particular group convo was about the upcoming sprint triathlon held at the Rigby lake. There were a coupe of things wrong with this. 1. swimming in that lake will lead to STD's, getting an extra tail, or seeing dead bodies. 2. Triathlon. What more needs to be said about that? I politely stayed out of it not once but twice but then the permanent line around my midsection from my pants being too tight began to force me into the abyss. Jeta talked all fancy to me and before I knew it I had enrolled in the stupid race. Naturally I convinced Old Man Myers to train with me.
She and Jeff have formulated some training schedule and so I printed it out and tried to convince myself that I knew how to ride a bike and if I was being chased I could no doubt run the required 3.1 miles and so all I had left to conquer was the silly swimming. So when that was the first item on the list I confidently announced that the Myers family would be heading to the pool. Upon hearing this my body protested and I instead wound up in bed with a fever.
Normally I would have taken this as a sign that my sedentary lifestyle must stay but again I got swept up in the fancy talk and so when it came back around on the training schedule I announced we were heading to the pool. Upon hearing this my body protested and instead of swimming I used my arm muscles to whip up a batch of rice krispy treats. I promised myself just one treat and we would go but one turned into twenty and then I realized that I would have to leave the house and so when the boys came down to tell me it was time to go swimming I instead bought them off with marshmallowy goodness.
Saturday marks the end of the training week and it also was the last day to swim so when I announced once more that the Myers would go get wet the boys got smart. They employed every guilt tactic they had and before my rational brain could convince me otherwise I found myself in the car headed to the pool. I only had to swim 200 yards. That is 8 laps. I have 8 fingers so I figured it can't be that many. Myers convinced me that there would be no one in the pool so I didn't have to worry about how dumb I was going to look. All things were looking up really. Then we got there
Turns out 6:15 on a Saturday night is the perfect time to go swim so naturally the placed was packed. The swim lane was being occupied by a girl who actually knew what she was doing so that was out. And wouldn't you know right next to her were two of the most fit 20 something boys you have ever seen butterfly stroking like it was the easiest thing in the world. On the other side of them were several families trying to teach their littles how to swim. I actually considered asking for a quick lesson. There was a small gap between the super fits and the super littles so we decided to swim into that gap. I hefted my overweight old lady bones into the water and shoved off with all the grace of a horse with a broken leg. I knew three strokes in that I was in big trouble but tried to convince myself that I could go 4 laps before I took a break. On the way back to the other side of the pool I tried to make eye contact with the lifeguard to let him know I was possibly at risk for drowning but he was busy ignoring me. I kept swimming at made it to the diving board where a kid was giving me a dirty look because he couldn't leap with me splashing around pretending to swim. I made it to the wall and turned for lap three. By this point I was saying a silent prayer that went a little something like dear Jesus don't let me die because I am not ready to meet you just yet. Half way through the pool I started to wonder if I was even moving and had a small panic attack but realized that I was because I was swallowing water at an alarming rate and I would never drink pee water on purpose which is EXACTLY what pool water is! When I hit the wall to turn for my forth lap I was beyond miserable. As I turned I formulated a plan to just scream at the lifeguard hey moron I am dying save me but it turns out I couldn't even breath enough to spit out anything so I kept going. You will never believe who I ran into again- yep the kid on the diving board who was still giving me dirty looks. If I had the energy I would have lectured him but I this point I had to prioritize. First priority not die so you know I let it slide.
After four laps I realized that my swimming partner wasn't swimming with me and I looked around to see Myers an unsettling shade of purple. I might not win any wife points but we are training so instead of asking if he was okay I simply said come on man we have 4 more laps.
The next four laps were as ugly as the first four and by the end when I got to the wall Thing One accidentally swam in front of me and for a split second I thought I was going to go under because I could not find the strength to swim around him. Obviously I didn't and some how some way managed to heave myself out of the pool and join my spouse for a coughing wheezing fit on the side of the pool. After sitting for a good 30 minutes we decided our legs would most likely hold us up and we went to get changed and leave. As he was exiting he passed the lifeguard who stopped him and said hey tell your wife I am really proud of her she did some really hard work out there. Yep turns out the lifeguard was watching me the whole time worried sick that he might have to jump in and save my sorry can. This is what one would call salt in an open wound.
Tonight we have to hit the pool again and I am sure it will not end well but if it does do you think you could do me a little favor and show up at Rigby Lake on July 8th with a knife and chase me so as I can maybe just maybe finish this thing? Exercise sucks.

Ding dong the witch is dead

A lot has happened around our parts in the last couple of weeks.

First and foremost we got rid of our rent a kitty. The deal was always that we would only have her until we left for vacation. I have to say if a person wants to have pets this is the route to take. It is a little weird to not have to worry about the finer details of animal ownership but as a whole we are settling back into our routine. We were not sure if she actually did her job whereas all she did was hide until the middle of the night and then announce her presence by clawing into the meaty flesh of our toes. We decided it was worth the risk and you can imagine my joy and or horror when we returned from vacation to find this

Personally I think that it was in search of the really good deal that the price tag on the floor eluded to but since 1) it is dead and 2) mice don't talk we will never really know. The family wanted me to come and verify that it was in fact the mouse but it turns out I really didn't spend enough time with it to describe it to a sketch artist. Old Man Myers did announce that it was male so fingers crossed it was the one and only!
Vacation was also a huge success and since I am too tired to actually give you a witty account here are some pictures which everyone knows is the best part of any blog.

Day one 

We went to Corona Del Mar the first day and our boys ended up in the middle of the ocean with all their clothes on.

Day 2 Legoland

The pool in Carlsbad. In hindsight we should have skipped Leogland and hung out here all day long!

Legoland. About five seconds after this was taken they were officially bored.

The boys had their first run in with In-N- out

Day 3 SeaWorld

We learned the hard way that California makes you buy grocery bags so we schlepped our crap out like hobos.

The boys had their own room and TV in San Diego but we found them like this one morning they had been there for hours!

These are bamboo sharks which you can pet. We had to goade this kid into it then I was forced to follow suit. This is why peer pressure is bad.

Thing 2 had ecactly zero problem touching things and I think he could have ended his experience at SeaWorld right here. 

After convincing this kid to leave the roller coaster located directly above the mantas he was handed some fish and got to feed them.

Our day ended after the boys took a river raft ride and ended up soaked

We drank $55 in frozen lemonade in one day- No surprise this kid hurled shortly after this picture

Day 4 San Diego Zoo

For his 12th Birthday we bought this guy a zoo experience that involved watching his spirit animal eat breakfast before the zoo opened to the public.

Giraffes

This was possibly the last time Thing 2 enjoyed himself at the zoo.

This pretty much sums up our day at the zoo.

They each bought a mask at a themed Mexican restaurant and wore these the rest of the trip

Days 5,6,7 Disneyland

The light parade came home and even though I scored us seats in the V.I.P. seating the boys were not impressed. Old Man Myers however was in heaven

Then came the rain

It rained 

and rained

and rained!

So recap vacation was fun and one animal was harmed in the making of this blog. To be fair though he totes deserved it.

This means war

For the last few months there has been a hot debate going on at our house. As you remember when you came to see us in October I saw a mouse meander out of our closet. I recall this event very vividly because it interrupted my morning whiz that I take whilst brushing my teeth to allow me an extra 2 minutes of sleep. I tried to scream around my toothbrush while lifting my feet off the floor. Both of these were losing battles and thus Old man Myers wasn't properly alerted and so the little creep got away.

He pretended to look for the stupid thing for like six seconds and then went back to bed. Something I can't fault him for because it was three thirty in the morning after all. Once he had all of his faculties about him he proceeded to try to convince me that I had imagined it. This went on for almost two months and I started to question if maybe I had.

At the end of December my best friend Klepich came to stay with us and wanting him to be impressed by my hospitality I removed all the linens from his bed to wash them so when he laid down it would smell like fresh laundry. Imagine my horror when I found mouse evidence under the pillows. I tried to be livid but secretly I felt vindicated so I cleaned up the mouse mess and bought some traps. Some pretend research yielded that mice like chocolate and peanut butter and wanting him to be impressed by my hospitality I baited his death hotels with Lindt chocolate.  He was not impressed and did not take the bait and to show his disgust wandered into my other two guest rooms as well. 

At this point it is now personal and so I went back to the store and bought two more types of traps, did more research and baited those traps and then waited.

Even after all of this Old man Myers was trying to convince me that this mouse had existed but was now gone or dead or on vacation. His reasoning was that we now had three of the finest models of traps on the market, all baited with varying levels of mice delicacies and still no actions so obviously he was gone.  

Again I was starting to question the existence but then this week I was laying in bed trying to decide if I was asleep when I heard myself talking so I knew I wasn't. I was asking about a noise and when my better half arose from his slumber and started to investigate it's origin the movement caused the weird gnawing noise to stop. This all but solidified in my mind every worst case scenario in the world. They were but not limited to a mouse crawling into bed with me and asking for a cookie. A mouse hurling himself in my general direction while holding a makeshift shiv made for the purpose of evening the score for killing his mouse cousin with a lawn mower. A mouse watching me sleep. Really the last one is the most terrifying of them all. Needless to say I didn't sleep that night.

In the morning it was decided that the mouse did exist and that it was living in the vents which is why he was not taking the bait.

So I did the only rational a thing a human being could do. I got this. 

So far cat ownership is not going well for me.  As soon as we brought her into the house she bolted under the bed. This resulted in Thing 2 and I trying to coax her out for over 20 minutes. He would get close and she would glare then walk to a section of the bed that was un- reachable. At one point I had placed ham on the gun under the bed and tired to lure her out using that. Oddly she didn't go for cold cuts offered up on the butt of a cameo gun. Looking back it's probably because the camouflage worked too well. Eventually we blinded me with the light on my cell phone and Thing 2 was dying of the black lung and she took pity on us an allowed herself to be caught. I immediately took her to the bathroom to bathe her. Turns out trying to give a cat a bath is a really crappy idea. Giving a sacred cat a bath is an even crappier one. She tried to bite me and I allowed her to because I was holding her talons down but things took a turn when she also got those free. At one point I think she had a whole finger in her mouth and three sets of claws in varying places in my arm. I was bleeding and screaming for backup. I was hoping for Myers to rescue me but Thing 2 showed up and on the advice of his brother offered this soaked angry cat some cheese. That bitch showed her appreciation by clawing him to. She was full on hanging from his arm which caused him to scream which caused her to freak out even more. Eventually the blood bath came to an end and the cat went back to hiding and I was grateful.

That night at family prayer I prayed that she would catch the mouse and Thing 2 laughed and asked mid prayer if I was really praying. I was and with no irony. Don't worry though she is paying us back for her rough entrance into this house by meowing at ear shattering decibels all night long. 

So lets recap . I was right the mouse real and as a result here I sit scratched and paranoid. Somehow I don't think I am winning this round.

Timber

This year Thing 2 is in the fourth grade. At first I thought my biggest concern was going to be the fact that I remember a lot from my fourth grade year and so I was going to have to be more careful with my rants and actually learn how to be a mom. Little did I know the real problem was going to come in the form of a gift.
Turns out the Obama administration passed an initiative that allows all fourth graders nation wide access to every national park for an entire year. The hope is that it will generate an interest in nature and dissuade the little tykes from spending inordinate amounts of time in front of screens. As an extra bonus it is a way to really tick me off since you know it's nature and all.
As one can imagine this has been a highlight of our fourth graders year and he carries his pass around on a lanyard and recites the rules of his pass to me at every opportunity. It has kinda of become white noise and I do the appropriate mom response of saying things like wow honey that's neat and sure thing pal we could totally do that sometime soon. During one of our little interchanges the excitement level reached fever pitch and as I was processing what was going on I realized that I had accidentally agreed to go out and chop down our own Christmas tree which turns out is one of the perks of the pass.
Since the fateful conversation he has given me a full list of all the reasons why this is a good plan.  The first one being that he was going to save me money since you know I wouldn't have to buy a tree this year. He is conveniently overlooking the fact that I never buy a tree since I have an artificial tree that sits under the stairs all year long but who needs logic in a situation like this? Neither one of us had to work on black Friday so we decided it was as good a day as any to venture into the wild. Here is the account.
11:10- We all get showered  and dressed and eat a sensible brunch of turkey sandwiches and left over pecan pie and then start to pack the car. It requires no less then 3 pairs of snow pants for two boys 5 pairs of gloves and 6 winter coats of varying heaviness. We then pull out of the driveway to buy a saw.
11:11- I remember that I saw a coupon for the ace and since we are trying to save money insist that we pull back into the driveway so I can find it.
11:13 -I now have the coupon in hand and we are really off
11:20- We check out at ACE after buying the only saw that they have for $8.10 thanks to my coupon
12:00- We arrive at the ranger station that we need to obtain our permit and Thing 2 is beaming at saving me $15.
12:01- We begin the back tracking to nature. That's right we had to drive all the way to Idaho Falls to pick up a pink tag to then turn around and drive back to Rexburg to chop the tree down. This is our government in action
12:41- We are back in our driveway so we can get a tarp to aid in the tree dragging process how it didn't make it in during our over packing phase is a mystery.
12:50 We have cleared the township of Rexburg and Thing 1 is already asking if we are there yet and starts pointing out anything that is green and could pass as a tree if you squinted.
1:23 We pass a ranger station in Ashton and I get angry inside
1:35 We are now in the Targhee National forest and now the trees are fair game. We turn on a side road and drive clear down into a snow filled canyon and find nothing but a few animal tracks which our boy scout wants to follow.
1:40- We have now left the canyon and found another trail that leads two feet into a field but see a tree and honestly contemplate just taking it
1:50- We are now on another poorly marked trail but we decide that there are enough trees to choose from and we exit the vehicle and gear up.
1:52- Thing 2 is confused about what our mission is and starts asking if we can scrap the tree idea and instead start a weasel hunting expedition.
1:53- I have to remind Thing 2 to stop swinging the saw around before some one gets hurt
1:54-  I have to remind Thing 2 to stop swinging the saw around before some one gets hurt
1:55-  I have to remind Thing 2 to stop swinging the saw around before some one gets hurt
1:58- We spot a tree and we think its perfect only to get to it and realize it is missing one whole side
2:00- Find another tree with the exact same problem as before but I am freezing since Thing 1 is wearing my boots and I am hoarse from reminding my child that he could kill someone and instantly lower my standards.
2:10- Timber! We have a tree but no weasel but we still call it a day
2:40- Stop at Walmart to buy a tree stand for $7.95 and cry a little when I realize that my money saving son has actually cost me more money then the tag goes for.

As a special thank you for freezing my yiblets off yesterday I was awakened first thing this morning by a panicked nine year old who needed to inform me before the sun was even up that his tree wasn't drinking. I am not at all looking forward to the next 30 days or so. Christmas who needs it?

leave your marx

I am not sure if I have told you but this is our last year of elementary school. For a little bit I was all upset about it what with my kids getting older and all. Worry not though I have found a loop hole which has taken my self pity to self congratulations. You see Thing One did his last year at the same school that Thing Two has found himself in. Turns out that Just as the tradition of elementary schools having a strong odor of hamster and urine the homework is also a part of the learning tradition. Two years ago I was googling the crap out of all of the ridiculous assignments that were coming home and putting forth my best effort. Now it has become old hat.
Last week I was informed that it was Veterans day- the war fighting kind not the animal saving kind. There was a veteran to be found and researched, a report written about their service and a poster to prove that they were in fact real. My laziness and inability to throw out poster board came in handy because I totes recycled the exact same poster and report that we turned in for Thing One. I am choosing to Ignore the fact that the silly thing collected dust under my bed for 2 years and instead putting a firm check in the win pile.
I am experiencing a little deja vu this week in the form of the great turkey disguise project, only this time I wasn't smart enough to save the first bird so we had to go back to the drawing board.
I kicked around a few ideas and mentioned them to the actual student who didn't seem all that interested in actually doing his homework until I finally just took the reigns. I may have fallen down a rabbit hole while doing my google search and somehow decided that Groucho Marx was a perfect disguise. This was a two part project and required a persuasive letter to convince the folks not to eat his pretend turkey. So as I was cutting and gluing in peace he was trying to write his paper. He kept asking me over and over again who the guy was and after showing his picture after picture I finally gave him a rough outline of what his paper should be about. I tell you it was super clever and included things about how his lack of talking would take away from the fun of eating him and so on and so forth. It only occurred to me AFTER he had written the whole thing that I had confused him with Charlie Chaplin. Needless to say the nine year old was not impressed. We reworked a few things and I am sure people won't know his mom was a little drunk and couldn't even keep two separate characters from two different decades straight.
Given that the project is due tomorrow we came down to finish putting the final touches on the thing and after examining him he informed me that he needed to have a cigar. I tried to explain that promoting smoking in elementary school was a bad idea.He didn't see it that way and after trying to reason with him for a few moments I realized two things. 1. I am too tired to deal with this crap. 2. I should probably never have been given kids.
So while the first turkey looked like this

This years turkey looks like this.

I guess no mother of the year award for me- suprise suprise

Boo Hoo

Life has gotten a little crazy around these parts which of course meant the first thing to go was this little project. I could come up with excuses but you are not here for excuses. I am pretty sure the reason you are here is poor grammar and run on sentences so shall we move forward.
I am being forced to come to terms with the fact that I am getting old. At first I pretended that I liked that. It started by embracing the wrinkles that are permanently etching themselves into my albino flesh. I told myself that they made me look more refined, more authentic. Then I realized that that was just tired Chris talking and she belongs locked up in some sort of well padded room. Then I tried to convince myself that getting older meant I was closer to retirement, then I checked my bank account and died a little inside. The final blow however came this year when the effects of me aging meant that my children are also aging and that slowly but surely the doors of their childhood are slamming shut.
The most painful of those doors thus far has been Halloween. As per tradition of stopping with the old trick or treating game at 12 it meant that this was Thing One's last time going door to door. I tried to put it out of my mind as I created one of the most epic costumes I have ever crafted but as the night loomed closer there was this gnawing feeling of despair. Then since he is my child he decided to kick a guy while he was down and asked to forgo Halloween night with Gram and Pops so he could trick or treat in his own neighborhood for the very last time. Like a dope I agreed. I tried to soothe that pain by dropping 60 bucks on Halloween candy which BTW I did not crack into until the actual night of Halloween. I deserve a medal please and thank you.
Despite my best attempts time marched forward and before I knew it the big night arrived. I had visions in my head as to how things were going to go and of course the reality was miles away from the expectations. I got left at home to pass out the candy and my kid didn't even look back.
Halloween has always meant a rowdy crowd and a group picture in front of the house. It is sitting back and watching Pops pace with excitement peaking through the window and calling out which candy he needs as per his algorithm which helps him decide which child deserves what particular treat. Its listening to Ma try to goad us into drinking her twenty two gallons of wasil. It's a constant stream of old friends and their kids and noise and chaos. This year was markedly different. By the end it was just Thing One and I walking our neighborhood, the neighborhood we waited a decade to belong to. Hand and hand I took my boy on his last adventure. It was quiet and dignified unlike the whimpering that followed later that night once he had passed out in a sugar induced coma. So while my mom heart is breaking wide open here is a recap of years past. If I wasn't such a disorganized slag I would have all of them but I changed computers as often as I changed addresses which is to say A LOT! So in the spirit of Halloween I am going to dress the part of an emotionally stable women when in reality I am the crazy cat lady chasing the evaporating moments of my kids youth.

redrum

welp summer has officially ended and week after week I meant to sit down and give an account of all the exciting things that have been going on in our house but then I saw something shiny and all hope was lost on ever actually getting that accomplished.
Things like

Winning not one but two signed balls at the Chukar's game. Thing One's was won after this was taken and after the sun had gone down so just pretend there are two there.

Or this

This is Thing One waiting to be seen at the Doctors office after shooting a brad nail through his finger at 60 psi. He strangely was more concerned about the pain of the tetanus shot he was going to receive. Kids are weird.
Or even this

This is the first day of SIXTH and FOURTH grade!!! When did I get old of enough for this garbage?

But the past is the past so I suppose we should all just move forward.
Yesterday we spent the morning working  on this little project

We are getting so close I can barely stand it. We started at 9 ish and by 2:30 I was still unshowered and completely tired and so I gave up. There is still no toilet and the shower is still not usable nor is the sink but it kinda of looks like a bathroom right?
What this picture does not show is the absolute torture it is to work with me. By hour 3 I think Myers was legit contemplating a divorce because I am demanding and lazy. A winning combination if you ask me. I usually just hover in the background pretending to work then fuss when things don't look right. Like the light being 7 inches off center that resulted in him having to flip breakers drill six new holes hold the light fixture up forever creating shaky arms then reattach it only to find it wasn't working and that the light box was still visible. This resulted in repeating all of those steps except the first one because the breaker was still off. When it finally got put up to my exacting standards and I went upstairs to flip the breakers the thing still wouldn't work. Turns out I hadn't flipped the right breaker. Add unobservant to my list please! Luckily he figured that out before he ripped everything back out.
After the whole ordeal and ignoring our children for half the day we agreed to be done and that he would go swimming with the boys while I ran a load to the dump and returned the work truck. While he was gone I did some soul searching and decided that I should try to atone for my crappy wife sins and decided that rather then catch up on Netflix shows I would instead mow the lawn as a I'm sorry I suck move.
I waddled over to the mower and then remembered that I needed to check the gas so I dutifully unscrewed the cap and found that it was bone dry. I was feeling pretty smart as I hefted our enormous gas can out of the garage. Normal people buy a simple red gas can from the CAL ranch to use. We are not normal people and instead use a can designed for power sports toys like four wheelers and motorcycles. This means it is way too heavy and the spout is like twenty feet longer then it needs to be and to try to use it is like trying to baptize a cat. Every time I have to fill it I spill approximately 3 gallons of gas on the grass. This time was no exception only this time I remembered to fill it on the driveway so as not to kill another patch of grass. Seriously our side yard looks like a patch work quilt of death. Again I was feeling pretty smart as I hefted that stupid thing back into the garage and started figuring out what I wanted to do with all of my bonus awesome wife points. Then I started the mower and things took an ugly turn.
The engine kind of sputtered to life and was not revving the way it should so in my evolved brain thought oh I know just tip it back a little and the gas will hit the lines faster. I did this and rather then roar to life like it normally does it coughed and stalled a little. Not to be outdone I left it there for just a second longer when the root of the problem became apparent. A mouse came flying out. That's not the truth pieces and chunks of mice game flying out.

I screamed and swore and paced the driveway trying to figure out what to do next. I elicited some help from a teenager to see if there were anymore mice under there and to see if he could find the head. When he gave the all clear I re-approached the machine with all the trepidation and disgust I had in me. I tried to figure out a way to push the mower using a broomstick whilst pushing myself on a skateboard so as not to touch or come anywhere near it but it didn't work out because you know science.
I am happy to report that I didn't cry the whole time all though I did strongly consider driving myself to the convenience store to buy a cigarette and a beer.  So lets recap. If you procrastinate writing about all the cute things in you life and then act like a butt Karma will intervene and give you something to complain about. You win Karma you win.