Monday, July 19, 2004

"The good Lord never gives you more than you can handle, unless you die of something."
--Guindon Cartoon Caption
 
What a weekend.  I actually had a great Monday, mostly because I stayed home with Joey (my son).  He got up at 3am because his tummy hurt.  I've now crossed the line to becoming my mother because any time any part of our bodies hurt as kids, mom would put us on the pot.  Well, it didn't solve the problem.  He didn't have to go, I put him in bed with me, then about 30 min's later I hear this little voice say "I gotta barf".  MAN those words can make a mother spring into action.  I was like a superhero flying through the air carrying the child head-first aiming him at the toilet.  I must be good, as he started mid-flight and it all ended up in the toilet.  Thank god.  I can deal with most things that come out of small children from all their various body parts...but barf is not one of them.  They start gagging, I start gagging, it's not pretty.  Then as I clean, the smell and overall image of things makes me start again.  Anyway, the kid really felt pretty good for most of the day, I probably should have gone to work for the afternoon as mom offered to watch the little guy, but I had absolutely NO motivation to get in there.  I actually took a much-needed nap and snuggled with Joey while we watched Scooby Doo and the Monster of Mexico, Scooby Doo and the Loch Ness Monster over and over.  Nice monday, too bad the kid had to barf to get us there.
 
Thomas the Tank Engine came to Baldwin City, KS on Saturday and so did we.  Oh man, that was an event.  My kid was in heaven.  I was actually impressed as even though they charged $14 per person for a 25 minute ride on the "real Thomas".  AND the ride didn't actually go anywhere, just backwards and then forwards.  But pretty much everything else was free.  They had story telling, magicians, fire trucks, mazes made of hay bales, even a little trailer filled with coolers of water and little paper cups.  The one thing that was a little too real was this wierd homeless hobo guy complete with stick and bandana.  At first you could see parents bringing their kids up to talk to "Hobo Joe" until they realized he was a creepy guy.  The only thing he wanted was a train ticket (I don't think he realized it went back and forth and not to any destination), a ham sandwich and cookies, but only if they were chocolate chip.  He got on stage with the magician with his list of demands and the magician had the crowd help in a disappearing trick.  He had everyone wave their fingers and say "here comes the police" as they came to escort Hobo Joe to another part of the celebration.  There was this one mom sitting back near Joey and me having our picnic lunch.  She was chuckling as her kids started walking off with the guy as if "oh how cute, my little angels are going to play with the nice hobo..."  I really don't like sticking my nose in with parents involved as most people get NOT NICE once they have kids and you offer any opinions, but I was a little worried here.  I said, um did you know he's not part of the Thomas thing, he's just a homeless guy?  She kind of looked at me as if she was getting pissed, and then thought, hey, my kids are playing with a serial killer and made a run for them.  She still gave me a dirty look when she came back.  Oh well, my good deed for the day.  There were only two little vendors selling food, and I was still the Master of my Domain by walking RIGHT by the funnel cake stand....ummmmm...funnel cakes.....but I resisted.  MAN it's tough getting beautiful.....ok, not aiming for beautiful yet, just aiming for less chubby. 
 
I felt like I was on the Seinfeld issue where they were betting on being the Master of their Domains the other day.  Carol (the only person at work who doesn't seem to be in a parallel psychotic universe) and I were checking in on each other's willpower at avoiding the BIG-ASS donuts everyone keeps bringing in.  It was wierd, like "you still strong?"  "yup, you?" "yup".  Now every time I see the death-donuts or funnel cakes or anything else delicious that I can't have, I think "master of my domain..." it doesn't really help, but it makes me chuckle a sad little laugh as my mouth waters....I miss the old days of working at the bank in Lawrence.  Friday afternoons at about 3pm, the CEO and his brother would bring the coolers up from down in the mortgage dept and we'd get happy with beer, wine coolers and a blender pumping out margaritas.  I lived about 3 buildings down the street and would have a few escorts to help me wibble and wobble my way home so I wouldn't fall and sleep on the sidewalk....I think a few margaritas would definitely help our work environment.  Some of those people with hang-overs might be seriously dangerous.  I wouldn't want to arm "the hateful one" with any extra ammunition.  She was awfully cheerful Friday, I must have some kind of crap to deal with when I return to work tomorrow.  Last week, I kid you not, she had the controller (the poor man with the broken spirit) try to tell me that all my invoice backup pages needed to be redone as they were ALL set up with a comma between the month & year...."November, 2004" and that just was not right.  I actually laughed at the poor guy.  I said, I know you have better things to do with your time and you know I do as well.  I will work on them when and if I notice them from here out, but there is no way in heck I'm going back over my work to delete a COMMA, come on....she must be running out of ammunition to try to make my life hell, ah well, I'm sure she'll be back to form next week.
 
Survived a 10 mile bike ride around the trails of O.P. on Sunday.  I have some serious battle scars to prove it.  I was actually doing pretty well, only had to walk up one hill, was almost feeling cocky...then I tried to cross this little overpass-thing next to Metcalf Ave.  It's one of the skinniest yet on the trails.  I'm almost across when this overweight old guy that did not resemble Kenny Rogers in any fashion (so no redeeming qualities here) on ROLLER BLADES starts across.  I shout out, wait, hold on, I'm almost done....oh no, he says don't worry, there's plenty of room.  Did I say he was OVERWEIGHT????  also very wobbly.  Men over 30 should not be on rollerblades unless they are HOT and GAY, enough said.  YUP, you can imagine the fun, he wobbles his big self along, NO ROOM to pass, clips my wheel and I bash back and forth like a pingpong ball from the sharp metal fence to the cement barrier.  I learned that helmets work much better when they are buckled, good for me I buckled that day.  Also learned that you should probably pack some bandaids or gauze or such in the cute little seat pack thing I bought, not just lip gloss, keys and phone.  I ended up leaving a flap of elbow skin on the fence, probably a dent from my helmet on the cement barrier, a nice little trail of blood from the said elbow and knees along with two massive funky round bruises on the inside of my knees, not sure how I got those, guess it was from smacking the bike???  I should have left my foot up the guy's big old butt, but I just smiled as he skated by when he said "oops, I guess we didn't quite fit, huh???"  If I wasn't wrapped in metal and suffering a partial concussion and slow and rather chubby myself, I would have run at the guy.  NEXT time I'm taking him OUT.  No more nice chic.