Yard Wars

I used to suck at plant growing.

More recently, for some unknown reason, I stopped sucking at plants.  It was probably an attitude change more than anything. Plus someone told me you're supposed to water them and that did seem to help.

I was pretty excited about my rad plants until I encountered enemy number one.

These furry little bastards began to destroy my rad plants and my yard.

 Now, our yard is not as prosperous as my potted plants.  Here in the ghetto, grass doesn't grow in the native soil.  It consists mostly of clay and rocks, thereby choking out plant life.  We have spent many hours and many hundreds of dollars trying to get it to look even as mediocre as this.

Enter the enemy.....

These little shitheads have been completely terrorizing my yard and my potted plants.  Every time we tried to repair the damage to our grass, we would discover new holes filled with peanuts and walnut shells.  They are stockpiling their little snacks for wintertime.  Cute?

No.  

They must die.

To rid ourselves of these beasts of burden, we tried rubber snakes, rubber lizards, cayenne pepper, various store-bought repellents, and even cat hair (swear).  Nothing.  One of the repellents did not repel the squirrels at all, but instead made our entire backyard smell like a giant mutant clove of garlic got sick and barfed in it. We couldn't stand to be back there.  So it must have been awesome repellent instead of squirrel repellent.

Out of desperation, we tried one final idea.

 Not joking. 

I would put a real photo, but the camera needs batteries and I'm out.

We covered the yard with wire grating and anchored it down with bent chain-link ties.  Desperate times, my friends......

I wanted to set land mines, but husband said no.

 If this doesn't work...I have a final solution.

 

Actual Conversations: Canada Edition, Eh?

The following are actual conversations that took place between husband and I during our fun-filled trip north of the border.......

While waiting in line to cross the border into Canada-

 Rae:  Wow!  Look at all these bastards trying to get into Canada.  I didn't think there would be so many people in front of us.

Cody:  Yeah.  And they all have Canada license plates.  I'm surprised this many people wanted to leave their country to get into the US in the first place. 

Rae:  Right?.......I wonder what they'll ask us.  Do you think they'll search the car?

Cody:  I dunno, but maybe you should put away the flask of whiskey before we get up there.  I don't think we'll make any friends trying to get into Canada wasted.

Rae:  I'm NOT wasted.  I just had a few nips.  But you're right.  I'll stash the flask..... What if they ask us to come into the interrogation room or something?

Cody:  I dunno, maybe they will.  Do they even have an interrogation room?

Rae:  I have this overwhelming urge to do something awkward when we get up there.  Like ask him if my hair smells good.  Should I ask him to smell my hair?  OR I could roll down my window and ask that car right there if they'll take one of our bags in for us.  As a joke.  That would be hilarious.

Cody:  Us not getting into the country wouldn't be that hilarious.  It's like you don't want us to get in.

Rae:  They could ask us anything up there.  I'm so nervous!  This is a lot of goddamn pressure!  What if he grills us?  What if we crack under the pressure?

Cody:  We're going fishing.  We're not hauling drugs across the border.

Rae:  They don't know that.  What if they don't let us in?  What if they're just like, "You can't come in.  Go away!"? If it was me, I probably wouldn't let me in.

Cody:  I wouldn't let you in either.   

Rae:  What if I say something dumb?

Cody:  Don't say anything dumb.

Rae:  What if it just slips out? Sometimes awkward stuff just flies out of my mouth.

Cody:  Maybe don't talk when we get up there.  You'll probably say something dumb.
_________________________________________________________

Upon arriving at our hotel in Tsawwassen, BC-
Cody:  Babe!  Check it out!  There are palm trees in front of our hotel!

Rae:  Yep.  Neat.....

Cody:  Are those real palm trees?  They've gotta be fake, right?

Rae:  They look pretty real to me.  I don't think they would put up fake palm trees. 

Cody:  Don't you think it's weird that there are palm trees up here?

Rae:  I guess........

_______________________________________________
Later, at the hotel restaurant-
Cody:  It's just so weird that there are palm trees here.

Rae:  Why is that so weird?

Cody:  You don't find that interesting at all?  Palm trees in Canada?  They can't possibly be native.  Why would they even plant palm trees in British Columbia?
Rae:  I dunno.....maybe they found some really hearty species of palm tree that will grow well in this climate and they look pretty neat, so they planted them.
Cody:  Why aren't there any between here and California?  You drive all the way down to California, I bet you don't see any palm trees between here and there.  There aren't palm trees in Oregon or Washington.

Rae:  There are!  Remember that hotel in Seattle?  It had palm trees in it.

Cody:  That was INDOORS.  There aren't any OUTDOORS, though.

Rae:  There probably are!  They're probably everywhere.  They would probably grow in Boise if anyone bothered to plant them there.   Boise is sort of desert-y, right?

Cody:  No way.  It's too cold in the winter.

Rae:  Well, it gets really cold during the night in the desert.  Maybe palm trees like the cold.

Cody:  No.  That's not right.  Palm trees don't grow in the desert.  They grow in the tropics.  In warm places.

Rae:  They grow in those little lush spots in the desert.  You know.....oasis?  Oases?  Oasises?  What is the plural of oasis?  Anyway, they grow in those.  Wait, maybe those only happen in cartoons.

Cody:  Palm trees need warm weather.  They wouldn't grow in Boise.  I can't believe they grow here.  That's just weird.

Rae:  Maybe.  I dunno........What are you ordering? 

Cody:  I can't believe you're not fascinated by this.

Rae:  Babe!  I saw the palm trees.  I thought 'hmm...palm trees....neat'.  Then I thought about other stuff.  Like whether or not the hotel has a bar.  I didn't dwell on it too much.  It's just a palm tree.

Cody:  A palm tree in CANADA!
 _______________________________________________
Later on during the meal-
Cody:  Is it just me, or are Canadians friendlier than normal people?

Rae (laugh-choking on a martini): NORMAL people?  Ha! So, what, Canadians aren't normal people? Hee hee!

Cody:  That's NOT what I mean......you make me sound like a backwoods hillbilly or something.  I didn't mean normal, I meant Americans.  They sound different than Americans.

Rae:  So only Americans are normal?  I would beg to differ.  We're Americans and we're really weird.

Cody.  Don't make this conversation a blog.  You'll make me sound ignorant.

Rae:  I'm making this conversation a blog. 

Cody:  Well, if you must blog it, just clarify that I think WE are the weird ones, not them......no WAIT!  That's not what i mean either........
_______________________________________________
Even later on, at the hotel bar-
Cody:  All the way up here, all three days of the drive, did we see one palm tree?   

Rae:  No, honey, we didn't.

Cody:  No, we didn't.  Then we get to British Columbia, Canada, and there's a whole damn orchard of palm trees in front of our hotel.  Right here in Tsawwassen.  Are there lemon trees around here too?  Is there a pineapple orchard a few blocks over?

Rae:  No, honey.  I don't think there is. 

________________________________________________
The next day-
Cody:  Have you noticed that Canadians talk slightly differently than normal people?  I definitely notice the accent, eh?
Rae:  Not really.  I mean, a little I guess.  But not a lot.  It's not that noticeable.
Cody:  I wonder if they think we sound like total hicks.

Rae:  Probably.

________________________________________________

Later on-

Cody:  I've thought about the palm trees some more. I think the hotel must have planted them and I figure they must cover them somehow with something in the winter so they don't freeze.

Rae:  Like what, plastic wrap?

Cody:  I don't know, but something.  Otherwise how could palm trees be growing this far north?  I've never seen palm trees further north than San Francisco.  They must be covering them in the winter.

Rae:  What, like they put a giant lid on them?  Or a big knitted sock?  Like a tea cozy?

Cody:  Maybe......

_________________________________________________ 

In a deli in Campbell River-
Rae:   I just ordered a pound of lunchmeat and the lady behind the counter is making fun of me now.  I didn't even think about them not using pounds for measuring up here.  I didn't know how much to order in Canadian measurements.  I feel like a tard now.....
Cody: It's the metric system. It's not a big deal babe, you got what you wanted, right?

Rae:  How was I supposed to know how many grams of meat I want?  What am I, a freaking mathematician?  You would think they get people up here from the US all the time.  I don't think asking for a pound instead of however many grams would be that big a deal.

Cody:  You're just making a big deal of it.  They weren't making fun of you.

Rae:  Yes they were!  After I started to walk away, she went over to her co-worker and they both looked at me and she said something and then they laughed in my general direction.

Cody:  Who cares?  Don't blow it out of proportion.  Let's get going.

Rae:  I'm just saying.......They don't have to act all high and mighty because they use the metric system.  It's not my fault that Americans are all dumb because our ancestors decided not to use the stupid metric system.  What's so great about the metric system anyways?

Cody:  Actually, the metric system is more logical and universally understood. 

Rae:  Whoop-dee-freaking-doo.  I happen to like pounds and ounces.  It makes more sense.

Cody:  Not really.  And it only makes sense because you grew up learning it.  It's actually sort of ridiculous to use cups and teaspoons and tablespoons and pounds.  They don't convert smoothly at all.
Rae:  Well I don't like being laughed at by people whose currency is called a loony.  And who's the dope now?  I asked for a pound and she gave me like three tiny slices.  This is like a quarter of a pound at best.......
_________________________________________________
Shortly before crossing the border back into America-

Rae:  Canada was ok, I guess, but it's not that different from America.

Cody:  It's a little different.

Rae:  I know.  Different but sort of the same.  Like, if you got dropped there, you wouldn't think you were in a different country at first, but then you'd figure it out because stuff is weird here.  It's like Bizarro America.  Like, why do they only have sweetened iced tea here?  The whole trip I'm looking for plain tea and it's nowhere.

Cody:  I'm sure they have plain tea somewhere.

Rae:  No, I looked everywhere.  I haven't had good tea since we left the US.

Cody:  Their McDonalds are really nice.......

Rae:  Yeah.  But no plain iced tea.  Like I wanna drink sweet tea?  That's just gross.  YOU drink it and see how gross it is.

Cody:  It's not that bad.

Rae:  It's disgusting.

Cody:  Overall, it was nice, but with some major issues.  Like having to go to liquor stores just to get beer.

Rae:  Right?!  Or the beer being hellishly expensive?

Cody:  Totally ridiculous.  Or not being able to get dry ice?  Why the dry ice embargo?

Rae:  How the hell are we supposed to freeze all the fish we didn't catch if we can't get dry ice?

Cody:  Ha!

Rae:  I wonder if there will be a big line at the border crossing......

Cody:  Probably.  Everyone's trying to get into America to buy cheap beer and dry ice.

Rae:  And decent iced tea.

Canada: A Survival Guide

Many of you might not consider Canada to be much of an exotic destination.  You might say to yourself, "Self, what's the big deal?  It's just CANADA." Do not be fooled, however, into forgetting that mild mannered Canada is indeed still a foreign country.  Things are slightly different there.  Having recently returned from a trip there- and I enjoyed it much more than a thump in the gut with a rock- I would like to offer those of you who have not yet been to Canada a few helpful tips for survival.

The Border Crossing

When you are crossing the border into Canada- or returning home- keep in mind a few simple things.  First of all, crossing the border is a very serious business.  It is not at all dissimilar to going through security at the airport.  It is not a good idea to be overly happy and it is definitely not a good idea to make jokes about drug smuggling or having a bomb in your underpants.  When you arrive at the station, a very serious border patrol agent will ask you a long series of questions such as "why are you coming into our country", or "do you have any bullets in the car", or "are you smuggling dangerous fruits and vegetables across our border", or "when was the last time you had your cholesterol checked".  Apparently they are very worried that some rogue fruits or veggies might shoot someone.  Answer these very honestly and do not use sarcasm.  Apparently border patrol agents do not understand- or at least do not appreciate- sarcasm.  Also, you should probably not be drinking alcohol when you cross.  Especially not if you are driving.

The Metric System
Canada uses the metric system.  The metric system is a very simple and consistent method of measuring things that is widely used all across the world.  That is why we do not use it in America.  If you have grown up with the metric system, it is perfectly natural to you.  If you have grown up in America, you will have no idea about anything and hence, Canada will probably think you're stupid.  It is a good idea to have a conversion app or chart of some kind because none of America's measurements translate smoothly into metrics whatsoever. The math and science is nearly impossible.


For example, in America, we know that a pound of meat is 16 ounces, but in Canada, a pound of meat isn't a pound or any ounces, it is 484 grams or some weird number.  It might seem like grams are measurements best left to drug dealers, but you should not say this out loud in Canada.  If you ask the deli lady for a pound of roast beef in a Canadian grocery store, she will give you three slices, shrug, and then laugh at you with the others after you've walked away from the counter. 

Just remember to keep your conversion calculator with you at all times so you will know how many miles you have left on your trip, how many miles per hour you can drive, how much gas costs per gallon, and how many pounds of chicken you need.  You probably won't know off the top of your head how many kilometers you have left, how much gas is per liter (or is it litre?), and how many grams of meat or cocaine you need because you are not a fucking mathematician.


Loonies and Toonies
Before you enter Canada, make sure you convert your American dollars into Canadian Money.  Their money is called loonies and toonies, which does make it hard to take seriously, but this is the currency they use, so you have to deal with it.

 They also have paper bills there, which looks like Monopoly money. I'm not sure what its called.  I guess its just called "money".  Lots of their money has pictures of the Queen of England because, let me tell you what- she is a big freaking deal there.  She's like the Oprah of Canada.

Grocery Shopping
When you go grocery shopping in Canada, get ready for an adventure, kids.  First of all, you have to get your shopping cart. Getting the cart out of the cart stand is a goddamn pain really quite simple.

If you do wish to utilize a shopping cart, you must pay one loonie. We can only assume this is because shopping carts are a hot commodity and thus frequently stolen.  The $1 price tag acts as a preventative measure since $1 is very expensive for a shopping cart and no one would pay that.  You get the cart out of the stand using this simple proedure-

While you shop, take care not to slam your elbow into the big key on the chain, which will be sticking out awkwardly from the loonie slot right in front of you.  

In Canada, everything costs much much more than here.  But you won't know this because all the prices are per litre or gram or kilogram which will mean nothing to you.  Trust me, it costs more. The only item that seems to cost less is real maple syrup, which is not surprising, since maple syrup seems to grow on trees up there. I mean, their flag has a maple syrup leaf on it.  You can get a big gallon of it for like 15 dollars.  Only it's not a gallon it's something metric.  And it isn't 15 dollars its 15 loonies.  Or is it 7.5 toonies?
 
There are some interesting flavors to try while you're in Canada.  For instance, you must try their "All Dressed" flavored chips.  They taste like a combination of barbeque and salt and vinegar and sour cream and onion.  Husband really enjoyed them, although I preferred "Au Gratin" or "Creamy Dill".

They also have "Smooth and Seasoned" flavored V-8, jumbo sized Rolos, and some giant candy bar called a "Wunderbar". 
When your shopping is finished, you'll need to do some calculations to determine how many grocery sacks you will need because you will also be paying for those.  They cost 5 cents each.  And shame on you for not having your own reusable bags.
Now that your shopping is complete, you must either give back the cart or lose your loonie.  This is the method for returning your cart-

Drinking in Canada

You are welcome to drink in Canada, but remember a few helpful hints.  First of all, alcohol is not available for purchase in any grocery store or gas station.  If you wish to purchase alcohol, you must locate a liquor store.  All alcohol is sold there.  It might be helpful to research the rules for transporting alcohol into Canada from the US, as there are limits on quantities.  Purchasing in the states is preferable, since alcohol in Canada is priced roughly the same as gold bricks are in America.  For example, a 24-pack of Coors Light cans will cost you approximately $45.  This is not an exaggeration.  It will cost this much.  You might think that a Canadian beer, such as Molson, would be cheaper.  This is not accurate.  Molson, the cheapest Canadian beer, is $52 for the same quantity. Also, while you are in the liquor store shopping, it is not a good idea to remark out loud that the cost of being a drunk in Canada is prohibitive, as this is inflammatory to the locals.

Bears

The whole country is chock full of bears and they can eat you at any time.  As such, there are many helpful signs posted that give advice about avoiding the bear attacks.  There are a number of useful ideas, but only a few tips are really important to remember. I have provided you with a photo I took of the important parts of one of said signs.

On an unrelated note, does anyone know how to appear cute, friendly, and apparently not interested in someone?  This could come in handy in a number of situations.

Other Helpful Facts
-Canadians have a number of ingenious traditions you must try.  Your bloody mary may very well contain green olives stuffed with pickled green beans, which is a fan-fucking-tastic idea.  Your french fries will likely come with brown gravy instead of ketchup or fry sauce.  This is possibly the greatest food combination to grace the planet.  Check out the local eateries during your visit.


-Canadian McDonald's seem to be exceptionally fancy and clean.  Their Loonie Menu is- if you can imagine- even tastier than our dollar menu, especially their sausage breakfast burritos.  Their coffee is also excellent. 

- Do not expect to order unsweetened iced tea anywhere in Canada ever.  Canadians do not take kindly to unsweetened iced tea and they don't appreciate you asking for it.  All well-bred Canucks take their iced tea with equal parts tea, sugar, and nasty lemon flavoring. If you happen to drink a gallon 3.785 litres of unsweetened iced tea per day like myself, you should bring your own into the country.

-Canadians love to spell stuff fancy, like litres and centres and colours and flavours.  


- If you need dry ice, you are up a creek.  Canada has no use for it and you cannot get it at the grocery store, gas station, or hardware store.  Many of the cars you will see in line to get into the US on your way home are likely Canucks headed across the border to buy cheap beer, unsweetened iced tea, and dry ice from the gas station.

- There are no police, but there ARE mounties.  Watch out- they'll getcha.



No Rush, But Go See Canada Sometime Maybe
So just remember that taking a trip to Canada is a good experience.  It's not a fucking awesome experience.  But it's pretty good.  Like, if going to Bora Bora would be fucking awesome, going to Canada is moderately neato.  Being in Canada is like finding a five dollar bill on the ground or getting a few bonus curly fries in the bottom of your regular fries or winning $2 on a scratch ticket. That's Canada- it's pretty darn okay.

Mmmmm......?????

Not made up.  Swear.  I could write a bunch of smart-ass stuff, but the picture is enough.  I am not clever enough to have photoshopped this.

A dozen chocolate cupcakes to the first person who sends me photo proof of themselves purchasing and consuming the above product COMPLETE with a taste/texture description.  I include texture because....well if you don't genuinely want to know the texture of "Spotted Dick", then.....fuck you.  There it is. It is available at Fred Meyer and most likely probably maybe worth every penny or else not at all.

 Good luck.  Hopefully it doesn't actually taste like spotted dick........And if you already know the details on this particular product without a trip to Fred Meyer, then.........well, you're a gaywad.

Kitty Takes a Ride

Surely you remember our kitten Tonks.

Now she's 10 months old.  And a pill.  

Recently she decided to be bored with the plethora of play-things we provide for her and instead engage in complicated acrobatics.  For the last few days, she has been carefully plotting an elaborate stunt.

She sat at the top for days, pondering whether the feat was possible.  I passed her at the top many times, sitting on the edge, deep in thought......making calculations.  I was quite sure she wouldn't go through with it. It's a pretty steep bannister.

This morning, as I poured my cereal, she decided to go through with her stunt.  She must have gotten a rush of courage.  She had visions of greatness, a feeling of invincibility.  She was on top of the world and she could do anything.  So she went for it.

About the time I finished pouring the milk over my special K, the house erupted into a chaotic chorus of unidentifiable sounds.  It all happened at once, making it impossible for me to deduce what it was or where it came from.   I heard scuffling, scraping, scratching, crashing, a boom, shattering, glass breaking, and I saw a black blur shooting across the living room at breakneck speed, narrowly missing every piece of furniture in the room.  My first thought was that the cat had become entangled in something and was now dragging it about the house, breaking things with it.  I dashed across the room to locate the disaster I'd just heard.  I found it in the entryway.

Evel Knievel had jumped to the bannister to make her slide to the bottom.  Unfortunately, she is only a cat with a pea sized brain, incapable of logic or deduction.  In her planning, she did not account for lack of traction or rate of speed.  She made the jump, began to slide, panicked, and flailed around for a few fractions of a second until she fell off the sharp drop directly onto our large terra cotta decorative vase.  She must have picked up terrific speed very quickly.  I still cannot seem to compute how so much damage could have occurred.

Once I had figured out what happened, I decided to make sure she wasn't hurt before I killed her.  I found her hiding beneath the table, tail puffed up to the size of a feather boa.

Since the incident, she has been slinking about the house looking embarrassed.  Every once in a while she comes out from behind the curtains or under the chair to peek around the corner into the entryway, now terrified of that general area.

I was totally just thinking yesterday how I wanted to go out shopping for a new $200 vase.  And I needed to clean behind it anyways.  So no harm done.

The Party of Two Will Be Right Back........

After a word from our sponsor!

______________________________________________

Attention Treasure Valley consumers!  Are you looking for shitty furniture at higher than reasonable prices?!? Are you looking to get rid of your old crap?  Look no further than.........

The Bench Commission

4255 Rose Hill, Boise, ID

208-343-1251

Located right in the heart of the ghetto in beautiful Boise, Idaho, the Bench Commission offers piles of shit furniture for all your needs!

 You have to come on down to see it for yourself folks!!!  

For example, check out this rare beauty!  For only $395.99, you can take home this magnificent "sofa".  Just to sweeten the deal, we will clean all the hobo feces off the seat, FREE OF CHARGE!!!!!   Zero down, no interest for 7 days, 49.9% APR financing is available with absolutely no credit check!!!

Not your style? No worries!

We have many other styles for every taste!

Come on down to the Bench Commission!! 

We have shitty sofas, shitty dressers, shitty dining room sets, and shitty mattresses!!! 

We have everything you need for your home furnishing needs!!!!

Here at the Bench Commission, we pride ourselves on offering you the lowest quality furniture at the highest prices.  However, we offer you much, much more!!  The bench commission will help you unload your unwanted furniture!!  We want to buy your old piles of rubbish for prices that will leave you feeling completely rear ended!!  Simply haul, tow, or drag your worthless crap over to our store and we will make sure that our dumb fucking bastard employees will help you get the most rock bottom prices for your shit!!!!

Please note that the Bench Commission strives to maintain only the lowest standards for our fine facility.  If you bring us, say, a reasonably clean, acceptable looking piece of microfiber furniture like this-

-we will probably tell you that it is "a shame" you cleaned and vacuumed it because we only take ugly dog shit looking dirty crap in our store.  And that's a promise.
_______________________________________________________

9 Year Old Wisdom

Questions
When you are with a 9 year old, you can expect a wide variety of questions in rapid succession all of the time, most of which you will not know the answer to.  No topic is too extreme.  

"If the sun went out for four days, would we all die?" 

"What is the biggest human turd ever?"  

"If you shoot a gas tank will it explode?"  

"How much comet cleaner would you have to eat before you had to have your stomach pumped?"  

"Is herpes real?"  

"What was that rocket-shaped squishy pink thing under your roommate's bed?" 

"How come you can say fuck and I can't?"  

"If you got stuck sneezing over and over again for the rest of your life, would it kill you?"

"Do you think if that car came driving at me doing 50 miles an hour, I could jump up on the hood before it hit me?" 

"How come I can't watch House of 1000 Corpses?"

"Why do farts smell so bad?"

 "Is Jesus made-up like the tooth fairy?"

If you still have your wits about you after the initial shock of the question  AND you can actually ANSWER the question, you will be informed that he already knew that, he was just seeing if you did.

On Going to the Greenbelt
 When I go to the greenbelt with my sister's dog, this is the route I usually take:

It ends up being about 3.9 miles.  Sometimes I jog.  Sometimes I just walk.  Knowing what benefits are enjoyed from being outside and doing exercise, and also how much pent-up energy nine-year-olds have, I decided that it would be a good idea to take the nine-year-old to the greenbelt with me.  What a genius idea, I thought to myself.  We'll take my usual route and when we're done, he'll be worn out and quiet and just watch TV when we get home.
This, is of course, the stupidest idea of all time.  Here is the route Angus took:

In addition to running in spastic loops around the path, he also jumped up onto every stump, bench, log, and rock and also hit every tree, log, trash can, stump, and rock with a stick and a rock.  For a short time, he just shot down the path at breakneck speed, trying to break as many branches as he could with another branch.  The red star represents the point at which he had already gone the 3.9 miles.  Note that I followed my usual path, but forewent all the aforementioned spastic activity.  I had gone approximately 0.33 miles and did not get enough exercise to burn off the latte I had to drink to get psyched up for the walk to begin with.  
When we reached the red star, he informed me that he was tired and probably couldn't get back to the car on his own if we went any further.  When I attempted to use reverse psychology to get him to continue by asking if he was too big of a weenie to make it to the turnaround spot, he informed me that I was dumb for wanting to take him on a walk on a Friday because Friday is tackle football day at school so he was already worn out and also had sore legs.  When I balked at the fact that he is allowed to play tackle football at recess, he informed me that things are a lot different now than when I was in elementary school.  


On Having Fun
 When you are nine, there is absolutely no excuse to not be having fun every second of the day.  Not only must you suck every drop of fun out of the day, you must also do as MANY fun things as possible. This includes, but is not limited to, kicking the soccer ball around the alley, riding his bike up and down the alley doing tricks while you watch, playing Playstation 2, playing Playstation 3, playing Atari, Playing Wii, playing darts, and watching Spongebob Squarepants while playing Uno at the same time.  You should devote no more than 7 minutes to each of these activities because you might take time away from some other fun activity you will be doing next. Also, you- the adult- are expected to be present and participating in all activities.   If you do not provide the nine-year-old with this opportunity, you are being neglectful of his needs.  When he was at my house last week and I said we could not go to Pojo's to play games because I had to pay some bills and make dinner and finish the laundry and clean up after one of the cats, and sort the garbage, he became tearful and informed me that he "just wanted to have one good day" because he "hasn't had a good day in like a week."  

On Coats
Nine-year-old children do not wear coats.  Coats are for dorks.  If it is snowing outside, too cold to snow outside, pouring rain, or if there is a wind chill factor of -24 degrees outside, the child will not wear a coat.  Furthermore, all reasoning about the merits of coat wearing shall fall upon deaf ears.  If you try to explain that the other kids are the dorks for NOT wearing their coats when it is freezing outside and that he looks silly suffering in the cold with nothing on but a t-shirt, he will simply tell you through blue lips and chattering teeth that he is not even cold, he is just shaking because he is hyper and doesn't have anything to do.  Trying to make the child wear the coat by exerting your authority as an adult will simply result in the coat being "accidentally" left at school, in someone's car, at the movies, in the restaurant, or at a friend's house.  Recently, when asked if he would like a different coat better,  perhaps as a Christmas gift, he informed me that he would only wear a coat if it matched his backpack exactly, which he knows is impossible, as they did not make a matching coat for that backpack. 

On Strangers
Last night, I was telling sister, father, Angus, and husband over dinner about an incident where I ran into someone I knew at the Winco and despite liking this person just fine, I turned and quickly ran to the opposite side of the store to avoid a conversation.  This is because I am socially retarded.  At this point, Angus piped up and informed us that he agrees, that he does the same thing when he sees his friends at the store (total lie), and also that he doesn't like having to socialize with strangers in the grocery store either, which is why he protests so violently when he must go to the grocery store.  When we asked if he often has strangers talk to him, he said that people are always saying hi to cute little kids and he finds it annoying.  I asked jokingly if he has ever been offered free candy by a stranger, to which he replied, "Yeah, right!  I take the free candy and next thing you know, I'm high."

On Snowshoeing
Husband and I recently took the 9-year-old on a snowshoeing excursion.  He came over that morning with his new snowshoes, bundled up and eager to learn to snowshoe.  We headed out of town toward Idaho City.  At Lucky Peak, he asked if we were there yet.  I replied by asking him if he saw any snow around and if not, then I guessed we had further to go.  He answered, "Great.  I guess we'll be in the car for like another five hours."  When we reached our destination, we geared up and took off up the trail.  Approximately a quarter of a mile later, he turned to us with a puzzled face and asked "Is this all we do?"  Apparently, he imagined snowshoeing being more like jumping out of a helicopter and less like walking around in the snow. 

I tried to make it fun for him by speculating about possible wildlife encounters and pointing out how cool the woods were.  This worked for a short time before he grew bored.  In order to make things interesting for himself, he resorted to the following distractions:

-  Racing down the trail at a dead sprint, then falling on purpose and feigning injury

-  Leaving the trail and climbing straight up the steep hillside, then throwing himself straight back down, rolling to the bottom at breakneck speed and feigning injury at the bottom

-  Throwing snow chunks at me

-  Falling really far behind and when I came back to check on him, throwing snow chunks at me, then sprinting out ahead of me and falling down on purpose, feigning injury

-Jumping up onto logs and stumps, then leaping off and falling down on purpose, feigning injury

Finally, when we were almost back to the car, he began to slow down, moping and sighing and walking as if he had been carrying a very large load for miles and miles.  Husband and I took this to mean that he was not enjoying snowshoeing as we'd hoped, considering we had to do everything but drag him to get him to keep up with us.  When we began to unload our gear into the car, he looked at us puzzled and asked "Are we done already?"

On Pets  
When asked by my friend Rick how my arthritic 18-year-old cat is doing, Angus piped up, telling me that sooner or later Moe was going to run out of pills and I was going to run out of money, so I should probably just put him to sleep. 

When I mentioned that we have to find a new home for our cat Trooper because she is incapable of living with other cats, Angus informed me that we cannot do that because we saved her when she was a baby and that makes her our responsibility.  He also informed me that when she crouches low to the ground and runs from the other cat with her tail in the air, she looks like a go-kart with a flag sticking out the back.