Thursday, November 27, 2008

Went to bed and was asleep for about 10 minutes, when I wake up to a really loud crashing/banging sound. It lasts about 4 seconds and stops. Then there is a series of bangs. I sit up in bed. Then there is another louder series of crashing/banging that lasts about 6 seconds. Rocky lets out this really pathetic, quiet growl. (This is the dog that has been on hyper-vigilant mode since Sgt. G left- barking and growling at nothing all evening in an effort to 'protect' me). I say to him "oh, you're soo tough now that there is actually a threat!" Then I realize that talking to the dog is probably not the smartest thing to do when there is an intruder in the house. I then have the following thoughts:
1. Oh my God, there is actually something out there
2. At least all of my valuables are sleeping peacefully at Grandma's
3. Which means the guy who: a) knows where the ammo is, b) has the keys for the boxes that the ammo and Glock are locked in and c) has actually shot people, is also at Grandma's.
4. great.
I get up and creep through the kitchen, everything is clear. I can still hear scuffling coming from the living room. I decide that giving the impression that I am crazy isn't such a bad idea, so I turn to Rocky (who is slinking behind me with his tail between his legs) and say "if there IS someone in there, I am THROWING you at them." I peek into the living room and see the above picture.

this cage had been on a 3 foot high bookshelf. They somehow launched themsevles off of it, hitting the back of the couch and end table on the way down.
Now my only thought is- I am SOOOO glad I cleaned that cage today.

you should be scared, you dumb bunnies-I HAD BEEN the only thing between Sgt. G and a pair of bunny slippers.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Two Peanut Geniuses

(for the record, this note has nothing to do with peanuts, so if you were hoping for that, you might want to stop reading now or brace yourself for the disappointment.)

I went to my friend Jenn's this weekend with the boys (she is known on FB as Veiner Schnitzel, but she will always be a Peanut to me) she and her hubby and 4 beautiful girls live on a farm, so we packed up the dog and went for an overnight.When we got there, the kids decided to go play in the barn, there is a horse, and some chickens to go harass, so they all headed out. In a moment of ultimate blondeness, Jenn and I agreed that it would be okay for Rocky (our dog) to go too. In my defense- I assumed the chickens were in a coop, in Jenn's defense- she assumed that my 12 lb dog was smaller and therefore would leave the chickens alone. (I know that most of you are already laughing...) After a while the kids come and tell us that Rocky is "stuck" in the barn with the horse. I worried that the horse will spook and stomp on Rocky in front of the kids, terrifying them, and Jenn can't imagine what he could possibly be stuck in, so we head out to the barn. When we get out there, Rocky is no longer "stuck" but has decided that chicken chasing might be fun, and starts chasing them everywhere. The girls are nervous, but he isn't coming when we call, and for about a minute, the chickens are winning.

That was a really nice minute.

Rocky manages to get ahold of one. I believe her name was Mrs. Hen. Chaos ensues. The girls try to get across the horse pasture to where the dog and Mrs. Hen are. One gets stuck in the muck. Literally. Almost up to her knee, and her shoe is gone. Somehow Mrs. Hen is saved from the evil 12 lb. Chicken Chomping Machine, who is still on the loose and thirsty for blood. More yelling, screaming, chasing, crying and squawking. Rocky is now doing laps around the barn, and we can't catch him. I am assuming that he figured out that we weren't all cheering his efforts at being a real dog, so he ran around the barn one more time and was gone.


Now we have a half dozen running, yelling, muck-covered children-at least one of whom is distraught and one who isn't wearing both shoes, two maternal idiots, one bleeding chicken, one missing dog (and a partridge in a pear tree) and it is almost completely dark. Could this get any worse? Of course. Sgt. G picks that exact minute to call (God has such a sense of humor). His response is "you better find my dog!!" Thanks. I recall being very polite and sweetly telling him that he was not being helpful and I couldn't really talk right then. He said that he would call back in 20 minutes. I didn't really figure he would be LESS grumpy in 20 minutes, so my plan was to lose my phone on the way back to the house. Rocky returned and Motormouth managed to grab his collar and drag him across the yard. We all head back to the house to regroup. There is enough light to see that Rocky is smeared with muck and blood and so Jenn and I are trying to get him past everyone and into the tub before everyone sees him and gets even more worked up. Sgt. G calls back. It has been 7 minutes. I tell him we found Rocky and hang up on him. I handle the dog cleaning and poor Jenn handles all the child cleaning and calming. She is WAY more awesome than me.
The chicken survived.
Rocky survived.
The shoe survived.
Sgt. G called back to let me know he had called back before because he realized he hadn't been helpful and was offering to drive out with a flashlight to search for Rocky and provide Chicken Disposal if needed. Everyone settled down, and Rocky was forgiven enough that he got to sleep in the house that night.

There really should be some sort of test for my job.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Death Threats from a 6 year old

Monkey: I kill you mommy! With this thumb!! (holds up his thumb)

Me: Which thumb? This one or that one?

Monkey: (looking at his thumbs) This one!! I am mad, mad!! (scowl)

Me: Um, okay. Go ahead. I dare you.

Monkey: Hi-ya! Take that Mommy! (pokes me with his thumb) (evil glare)

Me: (trying not to laugh at the angry monkey) oh. ouch.

Monkey: (seeing my smile, he gets more upset) Now I really get you!!! (sticks both his hands in my hair and messes it up)

Ack!! a fate worse than death by thumb. Messy hair.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

A Foolproof Plan

Sgt. G and I are watching election coverage.

Sgt. G: ugh, if Obama wins, I think I'm going to jump off a bridge.

Me: Try to make it look like an accident, so we can still get your life insurance and military benefits.

Sgt. G: I'll will do it in front of someone, and yell "I triiiipped!!!!!" on the way down.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Motormouth's vote counts

Motormouth came home with a sticker that said "I voted!"
Me: you voted today, who did you vote for?

Motormouth: The guy with the white hair

Me: John McCain. Why?Motormouth: Because he is old, and you have to be old to be the president.

I guess Motormouth is a "one issue" voter.