Bring It!

All right trick-or-treaters, here's the deal: it's Alpha vs. All of You.

One giant bowl of candy stands between us.

Who's it gonna be?

Alas...

Shhh. Moose is playing hooky. We got all the kids to school, had a conversation with the principal about AYP and school-dependent learners, and went and swam laps. Now we are enjoying a little "dueling laptops" and coffee after a nice little lunch. It has been quite a treat.

Except (and you know by now that even during a lovely day like this there will be an exception...) the part where he was eating his baguette. Imagine the 1/4 loaf as viewed from the top. He started by tearing it in half left and right. He set one down. Then he pick up a half and split it lengthwise again. He set the top 1/4 (technically 1/16 of a full baguette at this point) down and started eating the bottom 1/4. He generously offered to share it with me. And I reached for the intact half so I could take the bottom portion. And then this happened:

Moose: Why are you taking that piece? Take the one I already ripped.

Alpha: You aren't saving that part because it is your favorite part?

Moose: No. Which part is it?

Alpha: What??!!? How do you not not know?

Moose: Um. I just tore and ate the piece in my...hang on...right hand.

Alpha: You don't look at a whole chunk of baguette and already have a plan for how you are going to eat it? You don't eat the tougher bottom part first on purpose?

Moose: Yah. No.

Alpha: You don't have a plan for how to eat everything you eat?

Moose: Yah. No.

Alpha: I eat things in a specific way in a specific order. Always. Even a glass of water.

Moose: So it is not confined to that thing you do with m&m's and lining up the lid just right on take out coffee?

Alpha: Yah. No.

Moose: Huh.

Alpha: I am still struggling with the fact that you seriously don't care HOW you eat your food.

Moose: Yah. Not so much. Like, not at all.

Alpha: I hardly know you.

ED or not ED...

Why, in those Erectile Dysfunction advERtisments, are the middle aged couples always outside? A Queen sized bed on a deck. Two bathtubs on platforms in the wild. Hello? These aren't plumbed! Who in the hell would feel like doing it after carrying buckets of cold water from the exterior faucet to the tub over and over. I mean, sure, he could carry three at a time, but that is very tiring work. The tubs would still have to sit in the sun all day just to get close to being lukewarm.

Now I'm thinking that malaria and giardia need to be added to the list of STD's that Viagra, Levitra and Cialis don't protect you from. And their bed with no mosquito netting!

...my baby beside me at the wheel.

Moose has been driving Miss M to Middle School every morning. It is kind of sweet that they both have been enjoying their uninterrupted time together. She is usually full of questions. But today she had the answer.

Moose gets in the car after dragging the garbage can to the end of the driveway in a cold rain, pulls the door closed, and wipes off his glasses. He makes what he thought was a comment about the weather...

Moose: What a miserable day!

Miss M: How do you know what kind of day it is going to be?

Moose: Huh?

Miss M: Didn't you just choose a miserable day by making that comment?

There's a Metaphor in Here Somewhere...

Geneva, our middle dog, has some odd habits. Most of which are easy to explain away. She is terrified of lightening and fireworks because she used to be homeless. Being stuck outside, starving and frightened during a storm is sufficient cause for neuroses. I've developed them for less!

But then there is the issue with the snuggly. And I don't really get it. She absolutely loves it when I buy her a sheepskin from IKEA to snuggle. She doesn't step away from it for days. And when she is not sleeping on it she carries it around like a baby. She will put it down where she wants to be and sleep right there. She does not share.

Her love and devotion lasts about a week.

Which is when Neve starts in with the plucking. She will sit and pull every hair out of the leather. When she starts to worry that someone will notice the bald hide ('cause the tufts of creamy wool all over the place didn't tip us off), she sits and waits for the door to open and runs outside to get rid of it. For another week or so she will occasionally visit it in whatever deep pit she has left it in. But eventually one of us finds it and throws it away.

And as soon as it is in the garbage she starts looking at me like, "Um...Alpha? Do you know how uncomfortable it is to sleep at your feet and adore you from this hardwood floor?"

Something in her Wolf Brain snaps. It goes from, "I love you, I love you, I love you...." to "I EAT YOU!"

And then, as if she doesn't even remember the eating part,

she misses the love.

one for the sages

"Hey, Mom? When I am being logical about fictional things...which side of my brain am I using?"

-Big C

Bridging the Generation Gap

Dear Old Gentleman biking on the non-motorized meandering path,

I think it is fair to say we startled each other. In my defense, I had my ear buds in while I was running so I did not hear you come up from behind. Which is also why I did not hear what you turned your head to shout at me. I suspect the singing and perhaps my booty slap had something to do with why you felt it necessary to glare and bark something at me though it was clear by my behavior that I wouldn't hear it.

But, you see, the song is called Push It. And when I listen to it I am transported back to sing-alongs on High School bus rides to soccer games. I am trying to think of a song from your youth to compare it to. The 50's were full of naughty innuendo. What about Great Balls of Fire? See! We have so much in common.

And to stay on this track of honesty, if you had kept your opinion to yourself you wouldn't have swerved and hit that branch. That part is hardly my fault.

-The Mama