Wednesday, February 25, 2009
I will not be black-mailed, so I am going to share this with the world before anyone else has the chance to hold it over my head. So phllllltttttt to you, Jason!
Oh...by the way my house is under renovation. Those are like million year old exposed walls behind me.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
At my baby shower for my first son I received a "Diaper Champ", which is basically a glorified receptacle for dirty diapers. It is useful. It seals up, keeps the smellies away, and prevents the dogs and toddler from accessing its contents. When Barrett was first born, a week and a half would go by before I even needed to think about emptying it. Lately the thing fills up in about....oh, three hours (give or take ten minutes). I cram as many diapers in there as possible. I lift the lid, do some shoving and make room for more. I always know, in the back of my head, that I am only making it harder on myself for when I really do have to empty the thing.
Why do I put this chore off? Well, we don't have trash service like you city-slickers are accustomed to. No magic truck arrives to carry off our nasties. Nope. We must either: A. burn our trash (Nothing burns like a diaper fire. Those things sizzle for days), or B. My husband drives our garbage around in his work truck until he disposes of it in a dumpster at work. You could call it a company perk. Anyway, there is not always a handy place for me to transport the contents to.
By the time I have decided that I must empty the thing, it is bad news. It's like birthing a giant, soppy, plastic bag from a narrow, plastic birth canal. I have to turn the thing on its side and coax the bag of diapers out. The trash bag typically weighs about forty pounds....and I am barely exaggerating. It's physically draining and the whole time I am fearing the worst: a tear in the bag.
Jason had the nerve to ask me a question while I was battling the diaper champ this morning.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm emptying the damn diaper thingy." I said, through my teeth.
He was in the other room, and he was inquiring what I was doing, so that he could ask me to do something else. I walked past him, with my 50 pound bag of soaked diapers.
"Don't ever ask me a question while I am doing that. If you had ever done that once, then you would know not to talk to me while I'm doing that."
"Oh, I have emptied that before." He replied.
Yes, he emptied it once while I was in the hospital after having our second son. I chose to let the converstaion end, so that I didn't stab him right then.
After some thought, I have realized that we don't need a "Diaper Champ", we need an industrial dumpster. I could fashion a shoot from the window, so that the diapers just slid out to the waiting receptacle in the yard. We don't have neighbors to complain about such a monstrocity. Why not? Some fat guy named Louie could come in his truck and pick it up once a...uh.....every three days.
Monday, February 16, 2009
A couple weeks ago I went in the hen house to feed the chickens and collect eggs. Shaun was sitting where the eggs normally are, so I just figured there weren't any eggs that day. A few days later Shaun is sitting in the same spot when I entered the hen house, but he stands to reveal four eggs. He nudged them into place once he stood up. "No", I thought. I stood there gap-jawed. My big-ass, boy turkey is sitting on the chicken eggs!
"Are you sure he's a tom?" I asked Jason.
"Yes, Audrey. I'm sure he is a tom."
I don't believe everything my husband tells me, so I asked my neighbor, Kathy, to come look and make sure that he is a tom. I had to usher her in the hen house, since he has been vigilantly maintaining his position on the eggs.
"That's a tom alright."
Kathy is my go-to gal when it comes to poultry questions. She has lived in the country all her life and has kept chickens, guineas, geese, turkeys....I don't know, she probably hatched some ostriches once. So, I am sure she is right about Shaun's sex. She too was baffled by the fact that he is sitting on the eggs.
I don't want to talk bad about my girl chickens, but they are bad mothers. I have never once had to fight one for an egg. Sometimes they don't even bother to lay them in the hay. I find eggs just laying in the dirt outside the chicken house. Shaun has taken pity on their potential offspring, since the hens don't seem to care. I guess we'll see if he hatches any, because I'm not about to move his big butt to get them.
I'm thinking we could make the local media if he hatches these eggs. He'll be known as "Mama Tom", a giant turkey with wee baby chickens. I'm already fantasizing about our thirty second blip on the Oklahoma City news. I'll make aure the hound-dogs are baying in the background. The babies are playing outside in only their diapers. Jason is working on some old clunker. I'll appear for my interview wearing a Nascar t-shirt with spit-up stains on it.
"I done told my husband. That there turkey is gonna hatch dem eggs."
I can feel it. My fifteen minutes are about to happen.
Friday, February 13, 2009
The second meaning of have dis is the more frustrating of the two. Barrett is a very good helper, and he likes to bring things to the people they belong to. He also likes to bring me things that he has no use for.
Things Barrett has brought me while saying have dis:
- a full glass of tea, which he was holding over his head
- numerous orange peels (he expects me to replace them with a fresh orange slice)
- my shoes (which he waited for me to put on, even though it was eight at night and I was in pajamas)
- a half-consumed cracker
- a sand bur he pulled out of his own foot (he's a tough little turd)
- my debit card ( apparently he found my wallet)
- diapers (I joyfully collect them...he seems to think)
Jason said that he was once rudely awaken by Barrett saying "have dis" and shoving a cold piece of crumpled toast up his nose. I have vainly attempted to rest on the couch, only to have toys and various household items piled on me, Barrett uttering "have dis" with each addition to the pile. Barrett often brings me the broom or the vacuum "have dis". What are you trying to say, Barrett?
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Top tracks of 08:
1. Fleet Foxes-- White Winter Hymnal
2.Grizzly Bear-- Knife
3.TV on the Radio--Golden Age
4. Fleet Foxes--- Ragged Wood
5.Department of Eagles-- No One Does it Like You
6. Rapture-- No Sex for Ben
7.Beck--Soul of a Man
8.Bon Iver-- For Emma
9. Republic Tigers--Buildings and Mountains
10.Albert Hammond Jr.---GFC
My desert island list of albums:
3.Fleet Foxes--Fleet Foxes
4. The Strokes -- Is This It
5. Beck --Sea Change
6. Johnny Cash--At Folsom Prison
7.PJ Harvey-- Dry
8.The Beatles --Revolver
9.Notorious B.I.G.----Ready to Die
10. The Rolling Stones----Exile on Main Street
Feel free to comment on my list, or make your own.
Alabaster Mom, we should make a joint music blog. We can call it Alabaster Red......or something.