Auntie's Hideaway

The Impertinent Daughter's bag was confiscated today.

*glowers*

See, the Husbandly One got us both Dumbledore's Army messenger bags. Mine was a birthday present, and hers was to keep her from absconding with mine. Because... she wanted one, too!

I am using mine as sort of a purse, because, well, Auntie is a mom, so... I carry Mom-type things in it (tissues, a small sewing kit, a few bandages in a small bag, Germex, etc), and I like to sketch sometimes, so... a small sketchbook and a bag of pencils, etc, and then there's my wallet, a small hairbrush, my DS Lite for those times when I'm waiting and unable to sketch or read... you get the picture, right?

The Impertinent One was using hers for pretty much the same purpose. She carried her wallet, her emergency moon cycle stuff, pencils, pens, phone ( I think in today's world, when a kid starts junior high, they need a basic, no frills cell phone), and had room for her gym clothes and her zippered binder. It's smaller than the bags most of the girls at her school carry as "purses," so we thought it would pass muster.

Besides, the dress code only bans backpacks. Not any other type bag. Just backpacks.

She's used this bag for two weeks with no problem. Then today, the 8th grade principal stopped her, thinking she was a new student (!!) and confiscated the bag. When Miss Priss said, "Ms. Principal, it's me, the Impertinent Daughter," Ms Principal frowned, then said, "Oh, my, you've had a hair cut!"

O_o???

Her hair was cut two weeks before school began.

Nonetheless, Ms. Principal took her bag, making her take everything out of it and saying it would be too easy for someone to steal her stuff.

Um... what??? What the hell does THAT mean?? If the bag is on Impertinent's shoulder, and it is closed with straps and buckles... then... how does that make it easy for someone to get into to steal her stuff??

Not only that, but it seems there were six other girls nearby, all with bags bigger than Miss Priss' bag, but... they weren't being confiscated.

Now, I have been in and out of that school. And I see girls on a frequent basis with bags that are about the size of your average beach bag. Big enough to literally hide behind, right? And no one has ever taken them away. Needless to say, I will be making an appointment to see Ms. Principal tomorrow to talk about this issue with the bags. Because, like so many other things at that school, they are not being consistent. Okay, you don't want the girls to carry large bags? Then you better start lining them up in the gym every damn morning for bag inspection, and if some of them are carrying bags that are too big, they better go, no matter WHO their daddy is and how much he donates to the football team!

Can you tell I'm getting all riled up? I wouldn't be so cranky about this if it was a district wide policy. But it isn't. It's only at the junior high. The freshman campus, and the high school allow backpacks. They also allow normal clothing choices. So why just at the junior high?

Not a clue.

Should be interesting tomorrow, that's for sure!

So, the Asthma Monster arrived with the ragweed pollen, and I'm ... not doing as badly as say... last year, but I'm still not a happy camper. After I got the kids off to school, I took my meds and pretty much passed out in bed till 1, then got up and groggily decided lunch wasn't happening for me and stared at the computer for a bit. Then I thought shower might help matters, and was in the process of getting in when... the phone rang. And at first, I was going to ignore it, thinking, "Oh, if it's important, they'll call back..."

But you know, there's this thing called "Mom Radar," and I just knew...

So, I answered it and... it's the nurse from the Impossible Son's school. And my first thought was, "Dammit, he's got a fever... I knew I should have kept him home when he said his throat was sore!"

But nooooo... now, y'all just know it's not going to be that simple for Auntie... right?

"Auntie? Yes, I have Mr. Impossible here in my office, and it seems he's been stuffing erasers up his nose."

O_o... wtf???

"Erasers? Up his nose?" I said intelligently.

"Yes. I got most of it out, but his little nose is so swollen, I can't be sure there isn't more still in there..."

"Erasers?? Up his nose??" I said, apparently still stuck in first gear.

"Yes. You're going to have to take him to the doctor or the clinic..."

"Erasers?? Up his nose??"

Gobsmacked does not even come close to covering it.

So, I got dressed (yes, shocolate, I talked to the school nurse on the phone NAKED) and called the family doctor. "No, we don't have any openings today, we're full up," the nurse said. Great, I thought. That means the so-called "urgent care clinic," in our town, which closes at 5 p.m. It's less an urgent care clinic, though, and more of a... well... let's put it this way... if your problem is urgent... you're better off going to the emergency room, because you aren't getting in to see so much as a nurse for at least two hours. So, I called the Husbandly One to let him know what was going on... and went straight to voice mail. I waited a couple of minutes, called again... and straight to voice mail. Fuck this, I thought, and called the office landline.

It was disconnected.

Wonderful, I thought, greatly frustrated. And decided to move on.

I went to pick up the little miscreant fezart eraser-up-the-nose-stuffing poor little guy, and found a rather embarrassed son standing in the nurse's office. The nurse pulled out a small bag with crumbled bits of eraser in it, and my stomach dropped. Now, when the nurse had said "eraser" (I think that's rubber for you Brits, right?), I thought she meant either the ubiquitous big pink eraser that has haunted primary school since time immemorial or those funny wedge shaped ones you put on top of the pencil when the built in eraser wears out.

But no, not even close.

It was... an art gum eraser!! The suckiest eraser known to mankind. The eraser that crumbles into bits the moment you touch it to paper. Yeah, THAT one.

Could he have picked a worse type of eraser to stuff up his nose or what?

"Where did you get this?" I asked, staring at it. "I didn't give you art gum erasers!"

"From the teacher," he said, shrugging.

I checked him out, and of course, I could not help asking The Question. You know the one I mean. The one parents have asked every time one of their kids does something so ridiculous and just plain weird, and just want to understand why??

"Why did you stuff eraser bits up your nose?"

He blinked and gave The Answer kids have always given their parents when they do something ridiculous and just plain weird. Shrug. "I don't know."

Because really, he doesn't. He has no idea, none at all. It just... seemed like the thing to do. He borrowed the eraser from the teacher, tried to use it, watched it crumble and suddenly thought, "Hey, you know, those are just the right size to fit up my nose." Or maybe he thought, "You know, those crumbly bits look just like nasty, dried up boogers. Hey, I'll stuff them up my nose and see if I can gross people out!!" Who knows??

Well... the clinic was stuffed to bursting. Literally. The parking lot was packed, there were cars parked up and down the street and there were people waiting outside. People who stood in little groups, hunched in misery, eyes streaming, sneezing and coughing, dabbing at eyes and noses with crumpled tissues...

I took one look at that and thought, "Oh, no, not today." Yeah, THAT'S what we need. The FLU!! I don't think so!

I took my stinker home and made one more call to my doctor. "Is there any way y'all can fit me in? The clinic is stuffed to the gills. Look, I'll sit and wait for the first available second..."

"Let me talk to the doctor," said the receptionist, and then came back with, "I talked to Dr. R, and the PA, and they both said that they don't have the equipment to deal with this, since you said the erasers are up in both nostrils. They said you should take him to the emergency room."

I looked at the Impossible Son, who was dancing to New Found Glory on his iPod. Our E.R. co-pay went up, and I really wasn't looking forward to taking him someplace else where there would be MORE flu-stricken people. The closest urgent care centers to us are in Austin, New Braunfels, and Wimberly. I was not going to drive into Austin at 3:25 p.m.... not unless he was bleeding out his eyeballs. New Braunfels and Wimberly were out, too. And I still couldn't contact THO.

Thinking of THO reminded me that he had surgery three years ago in San Marcos... with an ear, nose, and throat guy who sees all ages. I googled him, called their office, and yes, yes, no problem, bring him on in.

YAY!! So, knowing that the Tall Blonde would pick up the Impertinent One, I took Mr. Manzie in to San Marcos to see Dr. T. who Mr. Manzie just LOVED, and after sticking a tube up that little nose that let him look into Mr. Manzie's sinuses, was able to tell me that the Impossible Son either sneezed the eraser crumbs out, or swallowed them, because his sinuses were clean.

Oh, happy day!!

He then gave Mr. Impossible the "Don't stick anything up your nose or in your ear that's smaller than your elbow," speech, which still cracks me up, because wow, kids always react the same way. The first thing they do is... try to stick their elbows in their ears!! I think doctors do that on purpose, just to see if a kid will do it!

Much relieved, we made our way back home, and then to the Tall Blonde's house to pick up the daughter.

The Husbandly One called not long after I'd arrived. "Where are you?" he asked, sounding frantic.

Turns out, he turned his phone off, because it needed to be charged and he was saving it in case he needed it while driving. And his company changed their phone numbers, but he never worried about it since he carries his mobile with him all the time. He'll be giving me that new number pretty quick, I think!

All in all, a more adventurous day than I'd anticipated. Ah, the adventure that is parenthood. It's not for sissies, or the faint of heart. And I still haven't gotten my shower!!

Every once in a while, the pathway between Auntie's brain and her mouth short-circuits, and gives her family fuel for entertainment for months, possibly years to come.

There was an open house at the Impossible Son's school this evening, and afterwards, we went to the grocery store to pick up a few things. It was on the way home from the grocery store that the discussion turned to Halloween and costumes. The Impossible Son asked me if I was going to dress up this year. "I dunno," I said tiredly, because I've got the Migraine of Doom. "What do you want me to go as?"

"I don't know," he said. "What do you want to go as?"

I wasn't in the mood to ride on that particular merry-go-round, so I sighed and said, "Maybe I'll just go as a hippie."

"No, I don't like that," he said and you could just hear the frown in his voice. "I don't want you to go as a hippy, Mom."

Great. "Okay, how 'bout I go as Molly Weasley?" I said. That shouldn't be too hard, right? I mean, she's a mom, I'm a mom, I just have to dress eccentrically and carry a wooden spoon and look harried. In other words, just... dress and look normal, and maybe a poofy red wig or something. And add a British accent.

"That would be AWESOME!!" said Mr. Impossible. "Do it! Do it! And Papa can be Mr. Weasley!"

I looked over at my husband and his tattoos and said, "Um, no, maybe he should be Charlie..."

"No!" said the Impossible Son. "I'm going to be Charlie Weasley!"

The Impertinent Daughter snorted at this, but didn't say anything.

"Okay," I said, willing to go along with this, and thinking about what pens I could use to draw "tattoos" on his arms. "You can carry your toy dragon under your arm to, and when you go up to people's porches, you can say, look! I'm handling my dragon!"

The moment that popped out of my mouth, I knew, instinctively, that I had Dropped A Brick. There was shocked silence in the van for about... oh... I'd say about maybe 9 nano-seconds that lasted approximately two thousand years... and then they all died laughing.

"MOM!!!" said my daughter, trying to sound outraged while nearly suffocating herself laughing. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU SAID THAT!!!"

"Wow, honey," said the Husbandly One, snorting and guffawing, "that's... wow! That's way beyond your usual!"

"What?" said the Impossible Son, lost for about ten seconds, and then, "OOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!! MOM!!! GEEZ!!! That's just... WRONG!!!"

See? Even with a migraine, I'm pretty damn entertaining... most especially when I don't mean to be!!

I'm sure my face will stop burning at some point. And I hope they will let me live it down sometime before I'm eighty!

*goes to hide*

Isn't it interesting to find out that David Wirtschafter represents Taylor Swift...

.... and Kanye West?

Very interesting...

OMG, have you guys seen THIS???

Lunch Bag Art!!

He's a dad, at home, he makes his kids' their lunches... and decorates the bags, just regular, brown paper bags, and he does it elaborately, with Sharpie markers, crayons, pencils, etc....

I'm stunned. And yet, I don't know if I could do that much work on something my kids were just going to crumple and toss!

My favorite? It's far down in the queue, but it's the Calvin and Hobbes one, where Calvin is throwing a hissy-fit and declaring he doesn't want to go to school. It got sent back home with a note from his son's teacher saying it was cool, but the comments on it weren't!!

Go look! Go look!! *pushes y'all*

I didn't forget that yesterday was your birthday, but I didn't have the right light to take a shots of this until this morning. So, for your enjoyment, a long promised picture of my honeycomb teapot!

( Here we have Exhibits A, and B... )

Oh... my... gods...

I have no idea who this woman is... but I think I have to marry her. Seriously. Any woman who can make such an obviously wonderful overdose of chocolate is the woman for me!! I'll lie down with my head in her lap while she spoons that wonderful "ravishing pool of chocolate" into my mouth while I listen to her natter on about whatever she wants, and die happy, I shall!!!

Dear Idiot Drivers in Two Different Pickup Trucks,

Those red lights on the back of my van? Yeah, they're called BRAKE LIGHTS, and when they light up and go bright red? That means I've hit the brakes and I'm STOPPING!!

And that bright yellow light on the left that was flashing on and off? That's my turn signal, you utter morons. I know y'all have no idea what it means or what it's for, so just to clear things up, when you see it flashing on and off like that? Means I'm about to make a fucking left turn!!! Oh, and yes, I do actually stop for oncoming traffic when I see it coming, rather than turning in front of them and letting them hit me. It's a self preservation thing, you know? I'm not actively suicidal, as y'all apparently seem to be!

Oh, and drivers like me, who turn their headlights on in the mornings before, say, nine a.m.? Yeah, we're not doing that so we can SEE, we're doing that so we're visible to other drivers and pedestrians. It's like... an attention-getting device, not a lack of the ability to see in what is clearly daylight to you.

So, take all those papers one of y'all was waving at me for some inexplicable reason as I turned, fold them until they are all corners, and shove 'em up your unmentionable oubliette!! Getting on my rear bumper is NOT going to make me turn faster, or risk my life by turning in front of a city utility truck just so you can get your morning coffee at the gas station ten seconds sooner.

Fuck you very much,

Auntie

This is what an exceptional drought looks like...

( ... and all the trees reach out with dry withered hands, to beg for rain... )

Look at the Husbandly One's new tattoos!!

His first tattoo had faded badly (the tattooist had too light of a hand) and he has disappeared into the bright blue yonder, so... we went to the place where the Impertinent Daughter had her ears pierced, originally to have his tat touched up. However... we ended up decided to get a NEW version of the portrait tattoo, somewhat larger and on THO's back, and get a coverup tattoo over the original portrait.

He had the portrait done last week, and I had to wait for it to heal a bit before taking a shot of it. It's still a teeny bit red, and still has some flaky skin, but I couldn't wait any longer, so here it is...

( Click to see his tattoos!! )

What do y'all think? And yes, I do own shirts other than this purple one. It's just pure coincidence that I wore the same shirt today when I left to get my hair cut! I am feeling so much cooler now! Ahhhhh...

*is happy*

Shamelessly stolen from shocolate

Have you seen Translation Party?

You paste in text in English, and it flips it back and forth, Japanese to English, until the translation stabilizes on both sides, or it concludes it's going in circles.

The meme is to paste in the first line of your last ten fics, then post them.

( The fun starts here! )

Some of you may remember THIS little adventure of mine from three years ago.

Well... yesterday, I had a lot of errands to run, and finished up with another visit to the grocery store to pick up things I had forgotten on Tuesday. I was hot, tired, I just wanted to go home, and I was also thinking of things I needed to do when I got there. So, I was again on autopilot. I went to my van, unlocked the back, and started stowing my groceries. Vaguely, at the back of my mind, there was a transient thought of Something's missing, but I rather irritably chalked it up to having forgotten something at the store, and I wasn't about to go back and get it! No, I just wanted to go HOME. It was 102, I was soaked in sweat, and my flip flops were melting to the asphalt. I just wanted out and back into the cool, you know?

So, I close the back of the van and put the basket away, then hop in my car, thinking vaguely, Didn't I put up the sun shade? Oh, well, guess I forgot again and then wondered why the car was still so cool despite sitting in full sun for at least 30 minutes. Then I thought, "Wait... where are the Soot Sprites I hung on the mirror? And when did my car get so clean??"

At that moment, I just happened to look at the car parked on my right... and saw my Soot Sprites hanging from the mirror, in front of a silver sun shade. I wasn't sitting in my car!!

I had done it... AGAIN!!

You know what the worst part was? I had to unload the groceries, then put them in MY car!!!

*dies*

That brief thought I had about something being missing? Yeah, that was the myriad bumper stickers the Husbandly One has thoughtfully put all over the back door of my van!!!

I can say this, the owner of the mirror van no longer has a Virgin Mary on the dashboard or a pink flamingo hanging from the mirror. But her car is still insanely clean!!

After I got over my frustration, I laughed pretty damn hard at myself. And you can imagine that Auntie will very carefully check EVERYTHING before she so much as pokes her key in the door again!!

I have discovered yet another of the consequences of my "lost summer."

I spent a good twenty minutes hauling multiple plastic containers out of my fridge and seriously grossing out over their contents before tossing them into the garbage. YUCK!!! Several of them seemed to have burgeoning populations of possible intelligence, because I swear some of them waved at me just before I chucked them in the trash. And I'm not even sure what half of the food was (I'm not sure I want to know, to tell you the truth!), because most of it was unlabeled, though I was rather horrified to discover a few that did have names and dates written across the top, by me back in June!.

*shudders*

Poor THO, trying so hard to keep up with everything while I was incapacitated. Though even when I'm my usual bouncy self, he doesn't label the leftovers before they go into the fridge. And he teases me about my habit of doing that, though he refuses to eat anything in a container that isn't labeled. Which might explain the amount of containers with nasty science experiments in my fridge!

See, a couple of years ago, I got tired of pulling out plastic containers of food in the fridge and having to go to THO and say, "What is this? How old is this? I mean, when did it go in the fridge/we last have this, etc, etc." And I also got tired of say, heating up a container of what I thought was spaghetti sauce for lunch, dumping it over freshly cooked noodles, and then discovering that it was Slow Jalopy (Sloppy Joe) sauce. Not bad, but a pretty nasty shock when you're expecting spaghetti sauce!

I had discovered by accident (because of the kids) that dry erase marker on plastic containers rubs off easily. So, I started keeping a dry erase marker in the cabinet, and every time I put away leftovers from dinner (or lunch), I slap the top on, then write something like, "Slow Jalopy, 08-25-09" on it, then pop it in the fridge. No more mystery, no more sniffing dubious contents and trying to guess what it is and if it's still edible.

The few tummy troubles we've ever had greatly decreased after I started doing that!

And though THO teases me about it mercilessly sometimes, saying I'm being all anal about it, or very obsessive compulsive... he refuses to eat anything that isn't labeled. *rolls eyes* This drives me nuts, as he refuses to label anything!!

In other news, I saw the doctor yesterday for my face to face. The node in my lung? Turns out it's on the right side, not the left. It might be scarring from the bouts of pneumonia I've gone through over the last three years, but they're not sure. What bothered my doctor, and she showed me the lab sheet, was that the radiologist who read the CT recommended I get another scan... in one to two years!! She said she wasn't comfortable with that, and wanted me to go in six months. The nodule is only half a centimeter now. If it's still half a centimeter in six months, very likely it's scar tissue. If not, well, we'll deal with that when it comes.

However, when I asked the results of the rest of my lab work, she blinked and went through my file, then said, "What lab work?" Then, before I could say anything, she went back to the day she'd ordered the CT scan and frowned. "Wait... where's the paperwork for your bloodwork?"

She had to hunt down the flaky nurse who had called me and make her look for it, then came back muttering under her breath about "three strikes being fucking over," and "that's it, no more," before she sat down and started looking it over. And then she boggled and said, "When did you last see the endocrinologist?"

"May," I said.

So she went to look at his report, and her boggle got bigger, and she frowned, and said, "Your TSH(thyroid stimulating hormone) was at 3.0 in May, which was a little high, but you were doing so well that he decided to keep it there. However, two weeks ago, your TSH dropped. Dramatically." And she pointed at it.

And I boggled. Because it said, "0.1."

What does that mean? It means... too much thyroid hormone, meaning something wonky is going on with my thyroid... again.

So, she decreased the dosage of my medication, and I am going to call the endocrinologist to get in A.S.A.P. to see what needs to be done.

Because I'm telling you, I am so friggin' tired of this. I mean, Tuesday, I went grocery shopping, and it was a big shop because, well, I've been sick and unable to do it all summer, right? So, I was basically playing catch-up, and went fully intending to do my usual lightning fast grocery shop. I had my list, I know where everything is in the store, no kids with me to slow me down, it's very much veni, vidi, vici, grocery-style!

But Tuesday... not so much. Tuesday, what usually takes me an hour and a half, tops, took me... nearly three hours. I barely had enough time when I was done to run home, throw all the cold stuff in the fridge, and race to pick up the kids. As it was, I was ten minutes late to pick up the Impossible Son, which upset him greatly. Not because he didn't think I was coming, because he knows I will always come get him, but because I hadn't called the school to send him a message about it. Which I always do if I am running late for any reason.

At least I had him and Miss Priss to help me put the rest of the groceries away after!

The irony in all this is that the Asthma Monster has been abnormally quiet since the near pneumonia in June, knock on wood, and on that front... I'm doing great! And my heart's been behaving well, too, which is... unusual, but hey, I'll roll with it! Now if we can just get the rest of me to cooperate, things will be just peachy!!

This is just the kind of mood I'm in this morning. Ahhh... the B-52's... good for those slightly left of center mornings!

I have to say that by and large, my kids are pretty well behaved. Usually, if I talk to them before we go shopping, or to a movie, or out anywhere in public, they keep the usual sibling picking and bickering to an absolute minimum. And mostly, during this summer where I've been feeling so lousy, they've been careful not to waste Mom's energy in having to curb their arguments.

But, you know, that can't last forever, they're human children, after all, right? The Impertinent One only has so much patience with her Little Bother and his persistent questions, Energizer Bunny bounciness, or his off-key singing. She'll put up with it as long as she can stand it and then... the picking begins.

Soon, I hear him shout, "Stop it!" and then... he retaliates.

And then she complains that he's "hurt" her. He's punched her in the arm, and it's practically broken it! Of course, I'm skeptical. I mean, this is a girl I have watched get straight-armed during a soccer game, watched her get knocked to the ground and bounce back up, fierce as ever, watched her get hit, and hardly flinch.

I also know that Mr. Manzie pulls his punches when he hits his sister.

So... I give them both the Hairy Eyeball, fuss at them for fighting, take away privileges (No more Nintendo! No Wii for three days!), and leave it at that. Peace will reign for as long as half an hour, sometimes. Or the rest of the shopping trip, at least.

Yesterday, though... I don't know. It started off well, but then the Impossible Son got all excited about markers, and pencils, and this year they get to use pens, and he interrupted the Impertinent Daughter when she was trying to tell me some endlessly complex story that involved a lot of back-tracking (and I admit, I don't have a lot of patience for that, though I do try, really hard)...

... and then I saw the school uniforms hanging on racks... AT THE GROCERY STORE.

O_O

Um... school uniforms? I blinked and stared. There they were, racks of khaki and navy blue shorts, slacks, and skirts, with white and dark blue polo shirts, hanging there in the grocery store.

They've never sold school uniforms at our grocery store, which is the only one in town.

Now, I have been checking the elementary and junior high websites regularly this summer, especially since the woman who had been principal at the junior high, the woman responsible for the dress-code shenanigans of the past two years, was elected to the school board and became the school board president. I've been expecting to hear about district wide uniforms, or at least a district wide dress-code change, but... there's been nothing.

However, it would be very like them to spring the change on us on the first day of school. They've done that before. So... I was considerably freaked out, as you can imagine.

The kids got quiet, and were cooperative for about 25 minutes. And... it all went downhill from there. Very frustrating. Even worse, I couldn't find all the things on the list at the grocery store, so... I had to go to WalMart.

And y'all know I just LOVE to go to WalMart (is being very sarcastic).

And guess what was hanging in neat rows in the clothing departments? You guessed it, khaki and navy shorts, skirts, and slacks, with white and navy polo shirts.

I ignored that, and headed straight for the school supplies. It briefly got better there, but fell apart to the point that I had to send Miss Priss to another aisle for HER things, while I went to another aisle with Mr. Manzie for HIS.

But she had to stay with us when we went to look for a new backpack for the Impossible Son.

I don't even want to talk about it.

Let's just say, it should be a lesson to the Impertinent One that most eight year old boys do not appreciate having a Tinkerbell backpack put on their backs where any of their friends might see it.

Worse? I have to go back to get a backpack today. And it's the tax free weekend... starting today.

*whine*

I have posted this photo before, during my "Week in the Life" meme a couple of summers ago. But I'm posting it again. Because I think it is most representative of the relationship between my kids.



She calls him, "Little Bother." I think that says it all.

Okay, next year? Remind me to never, never, ever again go school supply shopping ALONE with my kids. No, seriously, put it on your calendars for August of next year, "Remind Auntie DO NOT GO SCHOOL SUPPLY SHOPPING ALONE WITH YOUR KIDS!!"

And then remind me, over and over again.

*bangs head into wall repeatedly*

So, I'm sitting here, working on a story, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice movement in the backyard. So I duck my head down to look under the edge of the blinds and... there's a dog.

It's not unusual to see a dog wandering around in our backyard. There's a hole in the back gate that, despite my best attempts to block it, somehow is always open (I suspect our children in this matter), and thus, must be irresistibly tempting to the canine species.

There's a Jack Russell who comes into our backyard regularly, trots around to sniff things out, then departs without so much as a flick of an eye at me if I come out to address him. There's an Aussie Shepherd from down the street that comes in at least once a month, but she's very shy of me, and will flee if I look like I'm coming out the back door. A chihuahua comes strutting in, takes a quick tour around the yard and struts back out every now and then. And a large, hairy, brown mixed breed makes occasional visits, as well as a small rag mop type dog.

This morning, it was a beagle, and I watched it for a few seconds, then went back to my writing, figuring that it, like all the other dogs, would find its way back out.

A little while later, I look out and... the beagle is romping happily through the remains of our drought and sun raddled garden, before heading toward the garden shed which I see with alarm is open. So, I got up, threw on some jeans and went out, because I figured Mr. Beagle had forgotten the way out.

I noticed something a little odd about Mr. Beagle, but it wasn't until he turned his right side toward me and I blinked. He only had three legs. One front leg was missing.

I sat on the porch and spoke to him, and he came lolloping happily toward me. Yes, that is the exact word to describe it, "lolloping," and I just invented it and am very proud of it! So, Mr. Beagle came lolloping happily toward me, sniffed me, decided I would do, and cemented that by flopping down in my lap. After a few rather hairy and damp moments, we went to the water spigot, and he refreshed himself while I got a look at his rabies tag and discovered that his human and I share the same vet clinic. So I called and asked, "Do you have a three legged male beagle as a client?" and read the number off his collar.

"Oh, yes, we do!" the receptionist said, laughing. "Oh, my, is he with you now?"

"Yes," I said while he drooled on my foot. "He's very tired and sort of flopped down on my porch."

"You're the fourth person this week to call about him! I'll just let his owner know and have him call you, if that's all right?"

Of course, it was all right, and do you know, the owner just lived about six blocks down from us? I was a little surprised when one a member of our fire and rescue crew drove up, but it was his beagle, and he called Mr. Beagle his three legged miracle, promised to tell me the story another time because he had to go back to the station.

No, he didn't skip off duty to come get his dog. Apparently, everyone at the station insisted he go get Mr. Beagle and bring him by, because they hadn't seen him in a while!!

We exchanged numbers, because we figured Mr. Beagle was probably going to be making a lot of "visits" here.

Three legged beagles... don't think I'll be surprised by anything that shows up in my backyard anymore!

Miss Priss got her ears pierced today for the very first time. Just her lobes. We found a tattoo/piercing place in San Marcos that we very much liked the feel (and smell) of, and the piercer was a soft-spoken man, very important when it comes to the Impertinent One. While loud people don't bother her like they did when she was small, she still doesn't react well to booming voices in stressful situations, and let's face it, having needles poked into your head is rather stressful when you're 13 years old!

Still and all, she handled it very well. And so did I! *laughs* Considering I have this thing where when I see needles, I tend to pass out, I handled it very well!

The Impertinent Daughter was very nervous, and she was trembling, and she asked me again if it was going to hurt a lot and I said, "A little more than getting your blood drawn, but a lot less than getting your lip waxed!"

That seemed to cinch it.

I held her hand and laid my head on her opposite shoulder while each ear was pierced. This had a two-fold effect. It kept her head still so she didn't jerk or twitch... and it kept me from seeing the needle and fainting, thus freaking out my nervous child! The piercer asked me about it after, and I explained it. He laughed and said I would be surprised how many parents pass out when their kids are having their ears pierced, and it's usually the dads!!

She's very proud of her new earrings and, as usual, she looks very cute! *dies* And she starts 8th grade this year! Ay-yi-yi, time is speeding past!!

First off, let me say that... barium tastes like... thick, gloppy...dirt. Yeah. Thick, gloppy, berry-flavored dirt.

Nope, don't wanna do that again, nope, nope, nope.

Second, do people really yell at medical staff when facilities are crowded and an emergency case comes in and things get a little backed up? Because everyone I dealt with at the radiological center thanked me so profusely for my patience, and simply loved having Auntie in their charge. I've never seen the point of yelling or fussing when things are obviously beyond the staff's control. Emergencies happen, and I had no problem letting a little girl with what looked like the Epic Crushing Migraine of Doom go ahead of me, you know?

CAT scans have changed a lot in the last ten years.

Barium. Eurgh... not again, nope. *goes to wash taste of barium out of mouth... again*