Saturday, July 19, 2008

Oh, God, it's hot!


I'm sweating, for no reason what so ever. It's not like I'm doing anything active. Just typin'.

Some weeks ago our main air conditioner died. Our landlord sent some guy over to look at it and, I don't know, make sure it's dead, I guess. He came on a day we told him we wouldn't be home. That's the last we've heard of him. At least we've got the AC in the bedroom. I feel like jumping into a vat of Pellegrino. Even my mouse is sweaty. Blech.

The good news is that I'm on vacation this week, so I can be as sweaty as I want to be and just lie around the house and moan about how hot it is. But work has air conditioning, you say. Yeah, and it also has WORK. Since I didn't win the Megamillions Friday night, I guess I'm going back Monday.

This has been my first vacation since maternity leave and since that involved something called "labor", I don't really consider it a vacation. It's been a nice week. The lil Pooter and I went to the zoo last Tuesday. Despite the fact that most of the animals were sleeping, it was tons of fun. They had a little train that went through the woods and along a lake. Everytime the horn went off, she grabbed my arm tight and put her head into my shoulder, but she was grinning from ear to ear. The carousel was another big hit, as were the monkeys. Another day we went to the farm and fed some piglets. I think Pooter loved this even more than the zoo, especially since they were up close and touchable. They had a ball in the pen, so we'd throw it and they'd chase after it. Someday, I might be called upon to explain where bacon comes from, but for the time being it was a blast. The big hightlight was when the enourmous mama pig pee'd on one of the piglets who didn't get out of the way fast enough. Pooter laughed until she squeaked.

We also inflated our kiddie pool and put it under our screened in tent for a ghetto fabulous resorty effect. This way mama can sit in the shade with a cool drink while the Poot splashes about.

Thursday was the big excursion. All four family members: Papa Bear, Mama Bear, Cranky Teenager Bear and little Baby Bear, all went to the Shore. As in "Down the Shore". My husband is from the shore area and he calls it "the beach", as in, "We're going to the beach, you Bennies." He won't say Down the Shore. Benny, if you're interested, stands for Bergen, Essex, Newark and New York. Some places call them Shoobies. In other words, loud, obnoxious persons with questionable driving habits who take over your town from May to September. Known to wear bermuda shorts with black socks and sandals. Since I myself once lived blocks from the beach, I don't think I should fall into that category but hubby begs to differ. Just because I never lit things on fire and then used a shotgun to put it out. And then blamed the whole thing on a black dog. Or something.

Anyhoo, Pooter also like the beach. Especially the SAND. Crashing waves, not so much, but the sand was a big hit. So big, that she brought several quarts of the stuff back in and upon her person that continue to be deposited on our bed and belongings no matter how many times we wash her. Her and Daddy made a big sand castle while Teen and I played in the waves. To insure we went against the BENNY grain, we arrived late and stayed til dusk, long after the lifeguards had gone and got to see a few people surfing in the full moon high tide. Then we had dinner at Wegmans and drove home. Pooter managed to fight sleep all the way home but was asleep minutes after her head hit the pillow. Just enough time to let me know how much fun the beach was.

And all week long I got to sleep without an alarm clock and be with my family every second of the day. I've got to figure out a way to make money without actually working. Legally, and without changing my name to Bush. Otherwise, it's back to work I go.

2 comments:

BreathinSteven said...

So... There is this city-fella standing by the fence looking in wonderment at a pig -- the pig has a wooden leg... The farmer comes up to him and the city-fella asks the farmer, "what's with the wooden leg???"

The farmer says, "That's some pig... One day our house was on fire -- it was 4am in the morning and we were all asleep... that pig busted in and ran room to room and woke us all up -- he saved our lives!!!"

The city-fella asks again, what's with the wooden leg...

The farmer again says what an incredible pig that is -- the farmer says, "One day I was out plowing the back 40 and slid into a ditch -- dang tractor rolled right over on top of me -- that pig, he ran out to the field, pull me out from under the tractor and dragged me to the house so my wife could call 911... He saved my life again!!!"

The city-fella again asked about the wooden leg...

The farmer said, "Son... you don't eat a pig like that all at once..."

Be gentle -- there are a lot of ways to tell the Poot about bacon without spoiling the memory of holding little pink piglets and watching them squealing and chasing balls...

I miss your face... Thanks for writing what you write -- it was easy for me to visualize her grabbing your arm and planting her smiling face into your shoulder when the horn sounded... And it made me smile and remember so many of the good things in life... I have a lot of them...

You're one of them...

Love,

Steve

TC said...

I'm not worried. The first time she watched Finding Nemo, I asked her what she wanted for dinner.

She said fish.

Thanks for being my friend, Steve :)