I missed posting the random odds-and-sods over the weekend. So you get them now instead.
- I was singing along in my head whilst driving the whole family about in the car the other day when I overheard my daughter telling her mother that not only was it Fathers Day for me, but also for our dog Weston too. To which her mother replied in that way that is so jolly and helpful that it actually sounds sinister, "actually that's not possible - we had his testicles cut off when he was a baby." Nice work Mommy.
- My daughter also hurdled another big milestone this week. Her grandfather figured that she was crashing and falling off her bike way too much in his driveway. So he took the training wheels off and let her rip. After a few moments of confusion she took to it like duck to water. She had no problem with balance, speed or anything. Seriously - he would launch her forward at alarming pace but she wasn't even remotely nervous. Didn't crash once. She had a little trouble withe kicking off though so he drove her off to the bike path and reported back that she rode about like an expert. I'm not surprised considering my uncle was National British Champion himself - with his son following suit as well. I bet they didn't have princesses and sparkly purple tassels on their bikes though.
- My son spent quite a bit of Saturday morning yelling, "Mommy is peeing outside!!" She claimed she hadn't been. Which means she's calling him a liar. Which he isn't doing yet (although that should be soon according to all the guff about childhood development) so I think this means she was. Especially as if she was lady-peeing she would have been squatted down on the ground and he might have had no idea what shame she was spilling everywhere. So she must have been stood up - naked from the waist down. Probably watering her Hosta's - no doubt one of her mental Hosta-Heroes that she reads about for hours online every day has advised urinating on them from a two foot drop to promote their growth.
- Returning to the "what would you do to the house if money was no obstacle" from a week ago or so my wife claims she wants carpeting upstairs at some point (our house is carpetless save a few small rugs). Which is ridiculous because surely we could just use the massive quantities of shoes my wife leaves willy-nilly all over the house instead.
- Last night in the bath my son horrified us all by picking up a toy whale with various shapes cut into it (circle, square, triangle, etc) and shoving his willy through each hole. He did this intentionally right after his mother told him it was time to wash his penis. I'm still unsure of whether I should be pleased that his mother didn't instantly turn to me and demand to know why I've taught him this method of cleanliness - but rather just attributed it to a boy exploring his sexual options.
- Speaking of the bathroom - if burglars break in any day soon and go in the bathroom upstairs they will likely leave traumatized - their heads filled with questions that cannot be answered. It looks like any other normal bathroom. Except of course for the tick medication for cats next to the toothbrushes, and the gallon of apple-cider vinegar my wife has left right above the toilet - suggesting that our family is enduring some sort of toilet-paper substittute product-trial that will leave our genitals both clean and uniquely scented.
- My daughter is beginning to get that "I Might Be Mental" glint in her eye that I unfortunately have. Which no doubt will lead to years of random strangers asking her, "....are you okay...?" and her being completely confused by this.
- This week I also witnessed an entirely new method of parenting I'd never encountered before. That being I saw a father instruct his 2/3 year old daughter to do something, but when she declined he simply leaned down and said firmly to her , "you're going to end up with nothing in life....NOTHING....." and then did it himself.
- I made the choice this weekend to turn on a farmer's television channel on DirecTV. I then not only witnessed a sheep dog trials competition (which my wife and son demanded I keep on), but also a commercial for a pen-shaver for men to shave their chest hair with called the No No shaver. Which would have been fine ( a bit...) if it didn't instantly follow this commercial -:
I had no idea this was a necessary service. And hey - do whatever you want - none of my beeswax (ironically one of the major Likes of members of this sit, one suspects). My wife - a secret farmer - found the idea of it all amazing. I checked the website which quotes the trademarked (somehow...) slogan of, "City Folks Just Don't Get It." Plus the hilariously odd statement of, "Instead of asking what your astrological sign is, at FarmersOnly.com we ask if you raise or breed alpacas...." before naming other cattle. Yes - that is different. Either alpacas smell like dead people rolled in cat piss and fox shit, or their owners are notoriously fussy about dating losers who don't live with alpacas quite close by. Because the idea that you can only date other people who do that makes no sense otherwise.
And before anyone asks - no this isn't a brilliant piece of double-bluffing by posting about my being on that sight in case my wife checks my cache history. I can categorically confirm that I don't like the smell of wax jackets, and nor do I find gingham sexy. Although last years representatives at the State Fair from the National Collegiate 4 H organization were delightfully under-dressed. Still - one glance through the gallery for Britain's Sexiest Farmer reveals far too many people holding shotguns and in the company of cow's defecating (especially when one of the entrant photos is of these two suspicious looking men knee deep in chickens and holding a clutch of eggs - almost suggestively bragging that they are the roostering is an activity they perform themselves.
- Whilst working with my father-in-law on Saturday up north (stump grinding business called Stump Ugly) at a lake-side mansion I was bluntly flirted with by an elderly lady - with the exact replica of Joan Rivers' voice - who was possibly closer to 70 rather than 60. She also looked like Patrick Swayze in Too Wong Foo. Dressed entirely in Lycra she met us in the driveway and said loudly, "oh no - you are definitely not ugly..." She then carried out an odd running commentary of me moving tools and plywood with things like, "look at him lifting that big piece of wood....!" I should note that she was stood - at all times - next to her husband. After grinding out a rather large stump I cleaned up the mulch, piled it all in a nice blob, did a bit of landscaping and started dragging tools back to the truck. When I came back she was jumping up and down on the pile and made a comment that she wasn't heavy enough to squash it down. At which point she said, "I'm about 120 pounds. You look around 140-150 pounds. If we both lay down on top of it and jump up and down I bet we can make it go down." I then hid in the truck until my father-in-law came back.