Whyld Weekend

Okaynotreally wild, but... oh, jeez, I don't have time for adjectives if you want the skinny.

First of all there was the high school homecoming football game... that our team lost. But the cheerleaders were spectacular. This one was my favorite :

And there was no homecoming rain for the first time in many years!
Then there was Saturday, which was basically Jane running ragged... looking for jewelry, a certain makeup and double-faced tape to keep the dress in place - all necessary prep for the dance on Saturday night. Doesn't sound like much but the jewelry thing was a pain. Omega was at her 'day activity' - part of the daylong date process. Okay, I did sneak in quite a bit of shopping for myself. I didn't buy much but I enjoyed looking.
Then there were the standard manis and pedis to cure, hair to curl, not makeup to do, though. Mom doesn't do the makeup. Omega is quite the picky pants about the makeup.

Look! It's Homecoming Barbie!

And then we took lots of pictures and the boys came and we took even more pictures and then we sent them off:

Awww... so sweet... off to dinner and the dance!

Then I heaved a sigh and prepared to do some serious relaxing... but cleaned house until about 11, when I thought I was going to bed. Turns out the neighbor's dog was barking obnoxiously, which makes it hard to nod off, so Homer decided to go check out the situation. Ten minutes later, Pepperann started barking. Yes barking. It wasn't very loud or practiced but it was persistant. She barked and ran frantically from me to the backdoor to me to the front door back to me barking "Get up,dummy! There's treachery afoot!" Seriously, I expected to find that Timmy had fallen down a well.

Eventually, I got out of bed and I turned on the front lights... nothing. I turned on the back lights... nothing. Well, except for that cop shining a flashlight in Homer's face. And the cop was yelling and Homer was laughing so I opened the door and asked what was going on. The cop asked me if I knew that guy. I swear I only hesitated for like a few seconds before admitting ownership. Turns out someone had reported the barking dog and when the cops showed up, here was Homer hanging over the fence and when the cop shined his flashlight on him, as the cop put it 'He looked like a deer in the headlights'. So I explained to the officer that the dog had been barking and Homer was trying to calm him because the dog likes Homer. The officer was pissed because he was shining the light in Homer's face and Homer was putting his hand up to block the light and the cop told him that if he didn't drop his hand, he was going to have to 'put him down'. Thus the cop yelling and Mr. Bad Judgment laughing at the cop.

After giving Homer severe stink eye, and telling the cop how to block the dog door so the dog would be trapped inside the house next door - hell, I wasn't going to get in the middle of the mess and risk getting 'put down' - I grabbed Homer and pushed him into the house - suppressing the urge to tell the cop he was mentally challenged.

Men, I swear! I'm sure they both were justified in their actions... the cop had no idea what kind of a nut he was dealing with... and Homer probably had every right to look surprised by a flashlight in the face, but I don't even want to think about what would have happened if the Princess hadn't sensed that there was a whole bunch of stupid going on outside.

Sunday was my big day. I went shopping for a clothes washer. Woo hoo. I'm only being slightly facetious. The old Kenmore has put in almost 25 years and it just ain't all that it used to be. I've been drooling over the new high efficiency models and I think I have my new laundry partner picked out. I looked at several retailers around town, who were selling basically all the same stuff but it was Leonard at the H'Depot that captured my heart, because he was the only one who mentioned that I would get $150 in rebates from my local utilities. I *heart* Leonard. I am hoping to *heart* LG very soon.

In other exciting Sunday news, Homer made some awesome shrimp fettucine for dinner, so... I may have to keep him for a bit longer.
And today the countdown begins... FIVE days until vacation! And, be jealous because it's a week-long chick-trip!
Happy Monday every buddy!

April Fools - all month long

Setting: Monday morning.
Homer appears in front of Jane, dressed for work.
Jane gives Homer the once-over because he is back to dressing himself, post-injury.

Homer: What color do I accessorize?

Yes, Jane has taught him the word accessorize as it applies to belt and shoes.

Jane: Hmm....brown.
Homer: Then I'm going to do black because I think you might still be pissed at me for the remark about your silly shoes. Maybe you would like me to look JUST as silly.
Jane: Mmm, clever thinking......unless..... I was counting on you thinking that.

Homer should not ever try to beat Jane in the fashion arena.

The Cur-sed Piece of.....

March 21

Upon learning of his daughter’s impending major-life-happening, Homer did what any red-blooded American father would do. He whipped out the video camera.
The male techno-creed dictates ‘your children will do it, therefore you must videotape it’. He imagines one day handing over to his daughters a heaping milk crate full of the 8mm tapes which document ALL their major-life-happenings. In response the girls will fawn all over their father and assure him that he was, indeed, the more documenting parent. Exhibit B will be the empty baby books that were MY charge. In my defense, I was just too busy keeping them from putting steak knives in the power outlets and razor blades up their noses – sue me. Besides, Daddy was always there, Handycam complete with date stamp at the ready, to record the momentous occasions and quite a few less, umm…responsible activities – ones usually orchestrated by the videographer. Have I ever mentioned the cat swimming races? I will just say if you ever have occasion to make a wager, put your money on Cattoo. I think Catwon’s fur is too long which kind of messes up his sidestroke. I will also say that these things tend to take place when I am not at home or not sober (kid-ding). But please don’t call the SPCA – they would have no patience to sort through 100+ unmarked videotapes to find the incriminating footage. At least I’m hoping they wouldn’t.
Anyhoodle, Homer bought an 8mm video camera back in the early 90’s when it was all the latest technology and he diligently read all the instructions and zoomed and night-visioned things and was unable to give it over to anyone else lest they take video WITHOUT FADING IN AND FADING OUT! Hitting the stop button without fading was a mortal sin. So said Video-Pope Homer I. He made us crazy. No event was ever so urgent that everyone couldn’t…….pause……while……the man……gets…. the…..camera…..running. No trip was too short, no car was packed too full to EVER consider leaving the video camera at home. Homer was our video Marcus Welby – always with his little black bag.
Ten years and 84 tapes later, the camera suddenly met its demise – launched down 10 concrete steps by an 8-year-old school boy all hepped up on Christmas and too much sugar. The repairman shook his head as he pulled the plug. Time for a replacement. Formats were argued over. Homer’s grand plan in buying a new digital 8mm camera was to enable us to transfer the old tapes to digital as well as acquire new footage in a familiar format. Great. Fine. Except Camera-2 was not made of the steel and stone that Camera-1 was. Although it heralds the same branding, Camera-2 would appear to be made of thin plastic held together with flimsy welds. It has been to the repair shop THREE times. With each $100 repair bill I implore Homer “Buy a new camera to record the major-life-happenings! Save this one for converting the old tapes!” Because I am pretty sure the conversion won’t happen until I either break a leg or am bedridden for a month and that’s not something I can plan for. Hope for, but not plan for.
Here I should point out that Camera-2 has never become Homer's trusty companion. The bond isn’t there, but periodically when the time is right, he brings it out. Usually it is when he can’t make it to a momentous event and so he hands over the camera, without caring about fading in OR out, and asks that I record the event. I would gladly do just that except THE FREEGIN CAMERA NEVER WORKS FOR ME. It carries the same curse as the VCR. It is probably operator error as much as camera error but I am not taking MORE than 50% of the blame. I suspect the camera has a high-tech sensor that shuts down the system when it detects anything important to be videotaped. Whatever, in my eyes it is worthless.
So, through that long and circuitous story we emerge back at the Why house Sunday night. In case you missed Part 1, Junie is about to be kidnapped by rabid cheerleaders and we need some footage to show to the police if she is not promptly returned. Homer presents Camera 2 and plugs it into the charger. I say “What do you plan to do with that Cur-sed Piece of Sh it?” No emotion. No bitterness. I have come to terms with the CPS. It refuses to work for me and I refuse to respect it.
Homer’s eyes widen. “Cur-sed Piece of Sh it? What strong language for an inanimate object.”
I say, “The CPS never works. Why don’t we snag Omega’s little video camera after she goes to sleep?”
He insists on going with the CPS, secretly thinking that this is probably nothing that the Y chromosome can’t overcome.
I’m telling him: CPS. Just saying.
So at 4:15 am, the posse arrives and as they are about to dash down the (very clean) hall, Homer says “Stop! Wait, my camera isn’t working”
Big hairy SUR-PRISE.
They pause, he fiddles. Finally, knowing we are dealing with the CPS, I say “Go ahead” to the posse. Meanwhile, Homer thinks he has it. Good. Whaddayaknow. The kidnapping takes place, I take a few stills, just for insurance and they are off! He pulls the camera from his eye.
“Did you really get all that on tape?” I say amazed.
“Well, I’m not sure, it says ‘cleaning cassette’. What does that mean?”
That means, dear, you are holding a Cur-sed Piece of Sh it.

Riding the Peace Train

Setting: Tuesday morning in the master bathroom. Homer is in the shower. JaneFay is putting on makeup.
Jane (rambling, as she often does): ..speaking of cats, I was listening to Teaser and the Firecat on my ipod yesterday which I hadn't listened to in forever and then I got in the car and there was a remake of Peace Train on the radio. Isn't that a weird coincidence cuz that song is like over 30 years old?
(Shower noise. Sound of undercarriage being scrubbed but.....no response.)
Homer (finally): I'm pretty sure you aren't going to be able to help me with this......but....
Jane: Way to build me up, hon. I appreciate that you have such confidence in me. (Jane is thinking Homer is going to ask who sings the remake, knowing that she has NO idea. Jane is planning to throw out the name of some imaginary band like, say, Beveled Rodent that, of course, Homer won't have heard of, making Jane seem like the musically savvy one. Jane is wiley like that.)
Homer: Yeah, sorry, what I meant was..... I can't think of what Peace Train sounds like and......
Jane: .....and you don't think my singing will be able to get the tune across?
Homer: Something like that.
Jane (top of lungs, mascara for microphone): Peace..train..sound-ing louder.....Riiide on the peace train...Hoo-ah-eeh-ah-ooh-ah....Come on the peace train........I've been crying....
(Jane, so amazed at her ability to pull the lyrics out of her head that she is unable to stop.)
Homer: Okay, okay. Wow! I was wrong. I do know that song.
Jane: And the tune.
Homer: And the tune.
Jane: I believe it was the mascara microphone.
Homer: No doubt.

Progress?

Heading home from a family outing yesterday, Homer made some Homerish comment which escapes me now. Lola asked me if I don't sometimes feel like I am a single mom with 3 kids. I chuckled and said yes. She said that she often feels like she has a big brother instead of a dad. She didn't say it with any particular emotion, merely an observation, but it must have made an impact on Homer.

This morning as I was mixing up some muffins for breakfast he walked by me and said "Wow, I must be growing up. I was going to spit on your cheek just now but I didn't". I just stared at him dumbfounded. He says, "Well, not like a lugie or anything, just a little love lick". This came less than 5 minutes after he pantsed me. I'm pretty sure my oldest child is 50, not 17.

Just wanted to unload that.