Saying yes...

Zombie-In-Training

The Youngest Lamblet decided she wanted to be a zombie this year... she got to come home for lunch today and dress up for the Halloween parties to be held this afternoon. The school has pretty strict rules on how violent or scary a costume can be so we were told to keep it toned down and not do a full on zombie. Considering this lamblet is cute as a button, and considering we toned it way down, I still think she looks pretty darn creepy. Not using the red-eye feature with the camera probably helped in this instance.

What do you think ZRM?? Would she pass for a comrade?

I still hate spiders and they like to mess with me...

The Eldest Lamblet grabbed a broom this afternoon, swung it around, and what flew off but a LARGE SPIDER. It fell to the floor... it wasn't moving. It kind of looked like the remnants from a plastic Halloween spider ring, but it also looked like it might have been a REAL spider merely playing possum.

We stared at it a long time trying to figure out what to do. Our staring was juxtaposed with each of us occasionally darting out of the room with disgust, only to return after feeling sheepish. One of the dogs came in at one point and grabbed it. If it was a plastic spider, it would not be good for him, but I couldn't bring myself to shake it from his mouth. What if he had been corrupted??? What if he was part of the spider's plan?? The minute I shake it from his mouth, the spider lunges for my body!!

The dog finally spit it out, tired of the game. The lamblet and I still stared... could I wait until Grizzled got home? No. We needed to use the office and neither of us wanted to be in there with our backs turned. I had to pick it up. I tried to bribe the lamblet. Hmmm, didn't work. Yes, I'd have to pick it up... I got a paper towel, but I could still feel the threat of jointy, muscular, evil spider underneath. I screamed and darted from the room. I grabbed a hot pad. No, that still wasn't enough of a buffer. I donned garden gloves, used the hot pad and the paper towel. The sense of its body was still present, but I swiftly scooped it up and tossed it in the wastebasket.

This was kind of pissing me off. I'm not afraid of much... just a few raptors that hide behind the furnace and the wooly bison that lurks in our room. Maybe some bad movies... the dead man that looks like he's hanging from our swing set when it's dark... but otherwise, I'm your go-to person when you're afraid...

The lamblet asked if I could tell if it was plastic. I couldn't. It probably was, but I did not have 100% plastic reassurance and I was not about to go poking around in nearly empty wastebasket to try and figure out. And... just to be safe, I put the wastebasket outside. I planned on letting Grizzled dump it in the garbage can. For all I knew, I was going right along with the spider's plans... his girthy, jointy, musculary, sinistery plans. "She'll dump me in the garbage can and that's when we latch on... FOR LIFE!!! MOOWAAHAHAAHAHA!!!"

And then the Youngest Lamblet came home and asked if we had seen the plastic spider she was saving for her Halloween costume, she couldn't locate it. We said nothing...

(TypePad is obviously in kahoots with the damn spider and will not let me make my post the same font... funny TypePad. You're about to end up in the wastebasket outside.)

Nightmare Material

I'm all for technological advancement and we all know I love the dogs, but I have to say, this BigDog robot gives me the creeps. It's the stuff of fever dreams.

Thank you Righteous Bubba... I think...

Those familiar with Righteous Bubba's blog know that flying mustaches abound, Phil Spector wigs do the Can-can, and Burt Prelutsky watches... I innocently asked RB what he might be able to do for El Snacktator. RB responded. Unfortunately I could not locate my larger Snackie file... It was then that the Bill O'Reilly Holiday Package cookie jumped into my mind. Just what could the Bubba do with that?? Hmmmm??

 Yesterday, Righteous Bubba responded.

While very, very funny... I think there are some things better left unseen... 

Letting the cat out of the bag...

We were up at the lake this past weekend. By Sunday morning, everyone who was left was rather subdued... well except for Grizzled, who was off tending to something... Assorted children were in the basement and a couple of friends and I were upstairs drinking coffee, reading various things, and partaking in off and on chatting. And then the doorbell rang. The doorbell doesn't ring that often up there so I had no idea who to expect. When I looked up from my book I saw the face of a perplexed young man. I expected to hear him say, "Can I park my boat here?" or "Can anyone play tennis over there?" but instead, he sputtered out, "I've got a situation at the marina... I found a cat with a plastic bag on its head and I don't know what to do..."

He rambled on for awhile about how terrible he felt and how he knew it had to be dealt with, but as he had said, he didn't know what to do. While he was rambling, my head was rambling on its own... imagining any number of scenarios, trying to make sense out of it and what would need to be done. Was the cat dead?? If so, did he merely want help disposing of it?? And, why on earth was there a plastic bag on the cat's head?? Thoughts of the recent cat killings in Florida came to mind. I wasn't sure I wanted to see that cat.

After a bit of mumbling on both our parts, I discerned that the cat was still breathing and would definitely need to have the bag removed... this had my mind shooting off in another direction. I'd been bitten by a cat once. I had no desire to repeat the event, but still... it was an animule in need. I offered to go help. I suggested gloves and asked if he had any extras other than the ones he was wearing. He did not, but was more than happy to let me borrow those. Surely we'd need an extra pair, for some reason I kept imagining a bag tied around the cat's neck... that would take at least two people... with gloves... and long sleeves... and a drink.

With thoughts of evil people racing through my mind, I headed off with the young man, my at-the-ready friends in tow. It was with great relief that I finally saw the cat did not have a plastic bag tied around its head, but had merely gotten its head stuck in a snack-sized potato chip bag. This was still dangerous. The cat was lying on its side and its breathing seemed labored, and while it was unsettling to see, it wasn't gruesome. I leaned over, grabbed the tiniest bit of corner and gently pulled. Within a half a second, the cat was off and up the hill. The rest of us stood there motionless a bit longer until the silence was broken by the young man's thank yous and his confessions of being a bit freaked out and not knowing what to do.

As my friends and I walked up the hill, we discussed how old he was. We were guessing he was probably in his late teens/early twenties, but how when we saw him looking through the door, his eyes looked so big and so young. We kind of chuckled at the fact that he didn't attempt to remove the bag himself, but were very happy he went looking for someone who would. One of my friends said something like, "Yeah, he's old enough to be working at a marina, but it's obvious he's still young enough to need a parent." You could almost hear him calling, "MOM!!!!"

I'm still young enough to need parents, but it was also kind of odd to realize I've firmly crossed over into the stand-in parent role for someone who could be 20... Other observations gleaned from this bizarre turn of events? I'm old enough to be willing to do the *mom* thing without panic or too much hesitation... "Sure... I'll remove the toad from his nose" or "Yes, I'll clean up all of the vomit, but we really need to find the tip of that finger first and get it on ice..."

And while in that *mom* mode, I would like to remind everyone to dispose of their trash in a proper manner... maybe even rip it up a little bit before throwing it away, just in case a little cat needs an air hole...

Hmmm

ITTDGY's comments here and elsewhere are starting to make me think of this:

Dr. Snaglittle

Real life is continuing to be a bit demanding at this end of the blogosphere so stop on over at Snag's, where he starts his alphabetical exploration of all things wild...

I somehow missed the creepy factor

When I was a young, young girl, I would wait patiently until Garfield Goose would play this video. Playing this video meant Christmas was around the corner. This was filmed long before I was a glimmer in my parents' eye, but I remember it playing for many years after I was around. It was a standard and I loved it. Anyone from the Chicago area loved it.

I haven't seen it in a long time and now with the wonders of YouTube, it's available whenever I want to watch. I never realized how creepy it looked... I'm surprised this didn't scare me as a kid. I still feel a little glimmer of excitement when I hear the song, but if I watch... I'm still thinking, wow... that was kind of creepy...

Soon, we will gather together...

I thought I'd part with a clip from one of my favorite Thanksgiving movies. Heck, it's one of my favorite movies, period.

No matter how much you love your relatives and want to get together, holidays can also be like traversing a minefield... 

Meet you back on the other side.

Family Circus

Update below:

Grizzled's mother decided the lamblets needed to see the Ringling Bros. Circus this past weekend so she sent us tickets. We had great seats, but I've never been a big fan of circuses. Something about them has always been a bit depressing no matter how large and polished the spectacle. It was still... ok.

Grizzled's commentary during one of the many acrobatic events??

"This is where you end up when the Russian judge gives you a 4."

Update: The eldest lamblet was so-so when it came to the circus. She said she thought the clowns were kind of creepy. For that matter, she said the whole thing was kind of creepy. She couldn't quite say why. The youngest was a little more enthralled, but $100 bag of cotton candy will do that.  

The high point for me would have to be the parking lot. It was directly beneath the flightpath for planes landing at O'Hare. I could have stayed out there the entire time and been a happy person. Even better, being on a plane that merely takes off and lands over and over.