Amusing Observations

You may not know this about me, but one of the things I actually like most about myself is that I'm easily amused. Now, I'm not sure whether this is truly an admirable quality, but it does make life better. Heaven knowns the small things can often make life worse -- cat poop in the bathtub drain, a dog that needs to be let out to pee at 3 a.m., or someone crying in the morning before school because they "forgot" to finish their homework. If such small things can send a day on a downward trajectory, you better hope some small things can help propel it in a happier direction. And this is why I think it's good that I'm easily entertained.

I am definitely an observer. I should have followed my journalistic calling because observation seems to be one of the things I most excel at. But since I'm not using my powers to report on world events, I do use them for my own entertainment. Here are a few small, amusing observations I've made lately:

Yesterday, in the grocery store parking lot, I noticed a truck with a bumper sticker, which I thought said, "Vegetarian." I was surprised, because you don't see many people around here proclaiming their commitment to vegetarianism. You especially don't see it on the back of pickup trucks. They're more likely to have this bumper sticker: "Vegetarian: Indian word for bad hunter." So I looked a little more closely at the truck with the sticker, and I had it wrong. The bumper sticker actually said, "Vaginatarian." And I thought that was pretty funny.

In the same grocery store parking lot, I recently saw a general contractor's truck with lettering on the side. It said: "McQuitty Contracting." Honestly, if your name was McQuitty wouldn't you choose another name for your business?

This morning I was shopping for gobs of Easter candy for the boys at Wal-Mart, which B. and I have re-named China-Mart. In the aisle with all the Easter goodies, there was a rack of pocket New Testaments in Easter colors. I picked one up to look at it, turned it over and discovered that it was manufactured in China. So it's illegal to own a Bible there, but it's okay to make them. Classic. If they're not capitalists, then I don't know who qualifies for the label anymore.

A Little Chuckle

This is a disgusting thing to post, so if you're easily grossed out, then stop right here. But if you're entertained by poop, then by all means, read on.

Things have been out of sorts around here for the past week. The boys were all sick at the same time with a lovely disease called the flu. Next year we may be getting flu shots and save ourselves a week of aches, pains, and TV watching.

I don't usually pick up the boys' diseases, but even I could not escape the flu's wrath this time. This has made me very cranky and I've contemplated posting a variety of lengthy complaints. I may still do so, because this sickness seems to have poisoned my brain.

Now, I'm sure you're thinking, when will she get to the poop?! Hold on, we're almost there.

So I am still trying to recover, fighting off the body aches and going through about 100 tissues a day, and this morning I was doing my best to get moving and get everyone ready for school. I was in the kitchen, packing lunchboxes (UGH!) and telling lies to myself about how much I would get accomplished today even though I still feel like crap, when Son1 appeared and said, "There's a poop in the upstairs bathtub."

Perfect.

I go upstairs to investigate, and, indeed, there is cat poo and pee in our upstairs bathtub. Want to come over and use our shower?

Well...we've been having a problem with our oldest cat, who's furious about all the disruptions in her life over the past 18 months -- new house, new dog, new cat. It's the newest cat who's provoked this disturbing bathtub behavior. We're still figuring out what to do about this, but that's another post. But the joy of this particular morning is that some of the poo nuggets had fallen into the bathtub drain. What did I do you ask? I stabbed them with toothpicks to extract them, little cat poo hors d'oeuvres.

Aging

Apparently we've reached that point in our lives when not only do we have children to take care of, but we have aging parents to worry about. Many of our friends do too.

Aging is a remarkable thing. When my mother died, my father, who was 74 at the time, seemed so young. And as a widower, he's kept busy — with traveling, golf, dinner dates, attending little league and soccer games, and ferrying grandchildren here and there. But something has happened in the past year or so. I met him for lunch the other day. His hands now shake when he reaches for things. He's 80, and he seems...old.

On the other hand, we have my mother-in-law. She's considering having her boyfriend, who she's been seeing for no more than six weeks, move in with her.

I think we need a little help over here.