Wisdom of Rufus #606

Rufus: "Mom. What does it mean when someone "purses" his lips?"

Fatty: "Well, it usually means that person is really angry or frustrated."

Rufus: "Then why aren't your lips pursed all the time?"

Now Showing in East Texus:Malt Didneywerld Persents...

Beauty and the Beast on Ice

What better way to cool yer tootie on a hot summer day?

I AM GOING THROUGH WITHDRAWAL!!

With two more weeks of hell (excuse me, I mean school) to go I need SOMETHING to keep me from teetering off the cliff of insanity!!!!! FATTY - PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE post something to make me laugh (or even cry) so that I can keep my emotional health meter from going into the red zone!!!!

Wisdom of Rufus #427

Rufus: "Mom, next time you go to the grocery, could you get me something?"

Fatty: "Maybe...what is it?"

Rufus: "I need some Ambien CR. You know, the pill with the two layers? Cause the first layer helps you get to sleep quickly, and the second layer helps you stay asleep longer."

Where You Can Find Me

The Deed is done and the papers are signed. I am packing my bag and heading back to nature where I can sit on the porch with my Corona and watch the ducks - far (but not that far) from the dregs of humanity and the sounds of 21 obnoxious 5th graders. The lot next door is for sale if anyone is interested in joining me........

Mark the Day: Two-Word Combinations

We had a milestone day in the land of short people: Magoo started using her first two-word phrases today. This afternoon, I heard her saying (all on her own, not repeating after anyone), "Home Na-na! Home Na-na!" This translates as "go to your cage, you smelly chuckroast of a dog." Then, this evening she said "No. Stop it! No. Stop it!" This, of course, was said to me as I tried to get her ready for bed.

I know plenty of two-word phrases myself and would write them here, but Yo Mama might get mad at me.

Magoo also sings the beginnings of Deep Purple's song "Smoke on the Water." Thank you, Rufus.

I will be so proud in three days, when I can't remember when she started talking in two-word phrases, and I can look on the blog and have an official record!

see more crazy cat pics

Three Interesting Things about Fatty...

...like anyone really cares? Mainly, I just have to record this stuff so when I am 90, living with all my cats, visiting Bumpus at the room next door, and replacing his Viagra with sugar pills, I will remember what it was like to be approaching 40 and getting dumber by the day.

#1: Yesterday, I Was a Sucker
I was picking Rufus at his lessons del Espanol, when another mother walked up behind me and said, "just be still for a minute." I was pretty sure that it wasn't a hold up, and when I looked over my shoulder, she was approaching me carefully with a kleenex. Snot? Vomit? Her demeanor told me it might be a huge, blood sucking stink bug, so I froze in place. What was all the drama about? I had a half-eaten grape Dum-Dum lollipop stuck to my back.

#2: I'm OCD about the Public Bathroom
I've worked most of the last 15 years in the same building, and when I go to pee, I *always* go in the exact same stall. There are about 12 to choose from, and I pick the same one 100% of the time. It's like a tradition, a habit, a pee-at-work ritual, a first step on the road to needing therapy beyond talking to myself on this blog. Thankfully, the bathroom is used seldom enough so I don't ever arrive to find someone else in my spot. Yes, I only go pee at work. Pooping at work is a whole other issue.

#3: Yes, They are Pink, Flowered, and of the "Granny" Variety
I just got back from peeing in my appointed stall, a trip during which I envisioned, planned, and drafted this entire post (see what a good multi-tasker I am?), and after washing my hands, I looked in the huge mirror. And what did I see? That clearly visible, above the top of my pants and through the solid white cotton shirt I'm wearing are my pink, flowered granny pannies, for all the world to see. As Yo Mama taught me...at least I am wearing panties.

Where Are the Poop Pics?

I surely have the sense of humor of a 14 year-old boy, but I am just not so sure about posting poop pictures on the web. Here are the facts (and I could back these up with photo evidence if I had to):

1. Yes, the sweet little baby girl did the deed!
2. Yes, the big brother took lots of close up photos, as well as one of Goozie standing next to the potty looking rather troubled at the whole situation.
3. It was huge.
   Like to compare, it would be like me pooping the Sunday edition of the New York Times, including all the Wal-Mart and Target ads.
4. It was shaped like a capital letter "F."

HA! You think your kids are smart? My two year old is learning to poop-write!

Breaking Crapper News:SHE DID IT!

Magoo sitted herself on the pot and gave it what for...full production: #1 and #2!
YEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAAA!

I was at work when this happened, and my most wonderful adventurous Mom-in-Law just called to tell me. MIL got the full benefit of this first poopin-in-the-pot experience. She says that she took pictures...more to come!

It's another great day in crapper land!

Headed Towards Two Years Old

She has let me start putting her hair up, which for a mother of two boys is like learning to do sign language in Chinese. As I have no one close by to go to, pleading my ignorance and fear, I have taught myself a few tricks to the clips and pony tails. I haven't been brave enough to try a ribbon yet, and her hair isn't thick enough for a clip with a bow attached.

Her wanting to be like Mama is a big help, because I show her my pony tail. I am also exceptionally thankful that she didn't get my very tender scalp. I can hardly stand to get my hair washed at the haircut place because it hurts to have my head scrubbed. Boudreaux is the same way. I would never let someone yank around on my hair like she does. I try to be as tender as possible, and she is a perfect, patient little angel. Of course, then she sits on Boudreaux's face and farts on purpose, laughing hysterically because she knows exactly what she is doing. At least she looks precious doing it.

The new hair-do thing suddenly makes Magoo look very grown up.
It's enough to turn her father and me into blithering wussies.

If They're All Going into Therapy Anyway,Then I Might As Well Make It Worth the Money

If I am going to embarrass and offend my children by posting pictures of them on the toilet out here in the wild blue internet, then I guess I better just offend them all equally. What are we waiting for?

First there was Boudreaux, my child on the road to Rice University, where the smart folks go. He had his books on the crapper from day one.


Next came Rufus, who would prefer to sit and talk about it rather than actually squeeze it out. Sometimes, even now, he will sit on the throne for an hour playing with his...video games and other stuff. Every President needs his podium. Below, he is telling Aunt Choc about his universal health care plan.


Then came our precious Magoo, who caught on a whole year and a half sooner than those boys did. After having two who refused to consider anything but pooping straight into their britches until each was three years old (actually, Rufus got trained a couple of months before that because, by God, he was READY for preschool at the church and he had to be potty trained to go! He had no option.). But not our Sweetness Her Hineyness Princess Magoo. She wants to be like all the big people.

Because of all her interest but still cynically not expecting any miracles, I went ahead and bought a potty. No music or flashing lights like these fancy modern potties come with...that stuff would be enough to scare that turtle right back up into its shell if you get my drift. No, Magoo and I picked out a plain one. We brought it home. I had no expectations. It sat in the box for two days...because I had no expectations. Saturday morning, while the boys were off on adventures, she and I took it out of the box and talked about it a lot. Still, no expectations. We got it all snapped together and of course, she dropped trou and plunked her little peachy booty right down. Then she ordered me to go get some books. Could we have another one on the road to RU here? Of course, I do whatever she tells me.

Back with the books, I sat beside her and we read two. The she stood up, and she had PEED! She didn't quite understand why her mother threw such a holy cat-nip-shun and started dancing and screaming. In fact, at first, she was a little frightened. We talked a lot about what all that meant. At its heart, this was just a wonderful coincidence (that she happened to pee while we were reading).

Since Saturday, she has sat and waited and been successful one other time. She has also gotten up to get a toy and peed on the bathroom floor (Boudreaux cleaned it up without any drama...because just like the rest of us, he is putty in her hands). She also peed on the floor once when I had gone to get a book. So, we are by no means sporting a perfect record here.

Look how little she is! Her feet don't touch the ground.


So tonight, I get her into her nighttime diaper (extra junk to absorb all that stuff) and send her to kiss her Boppa (Daddy) good night while I tuck in the boys. After a couple of minutes, she comes running back yelling "pee pee! pee pee!" Well, over the past few days, I have noticed two new habits with our precious. First, she mimics everything I do. If I wash my hands, she washes her hands. If I pick up and put away books, she does the same. If I am working in the kitchen, she wants to do that same stuff, too. Enough to make a Mama tear up. Second, she has started yelling "pee pee!" every time she lets loose even a teaspoon in her diaper. I guess she wants me to change her at the first sign of any wetness...but with gas prices like they are, I am way too cheap for that. We will get OUR MONEY'S WORTH out of those paper crapcatchers! If I'm sending it to the landfill, then it's going to be a serious contribution.

So when this evening's event happened, I played nice and asked her if she wanted to sit on the potty. She, of course, said yes. She wants to do that any time it gets her some attention (which is any time she wants because we are all a bunch of blithering idiots in her presence). She pulled her own PJs down, and I removed her diaper (still dry). She sat down and commanded me to go get a book.

Well, all this thinking about pee made me need to go, too. That's the whole "mones" theory at work...whenever someone else talks about peeing or pooping, you get the "mones" (like fer-e-mones, those bits of scent and stuff that attract animals to one another) and have to go yourself. See what a valuable education you get by reading this blog? So there I was getting the pee-mones and sitting on top of the toilet lid anyway. I told her to hang on a minute for that book, that "Mama has to go 'SHHH'," which, when you hold your finger up to your lips like your saying "shhhh" means Mama is about to pee. We say "shhh" because that means to listen, so she knows something is going on (a.k.a. the tinkle sound). Otherwise, she thinks that going butt-on-seat just means that you get to play with the toilet paper and put big wads of it into the pot.

So there I uncovered and "shhh"ed. To which she held her fingers up to her lips and said "shhh" back to me. Mimicking everything I do...so, just to humor her, I said, "Mama pee peed. Did you pee pee?" and she nodded yes. Then she stood up and SHE HAD! This time it was on purpose! YEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAA!

I am still not expecting miracles, but this was a GOOD DAY.

Stay tuned for more breaking crapper news as it happens.

Just for Cat Crap:The Mean Kitty Song

Cat Crap: I will be waiting for you to make a video response to this:

Goozie Commands You: DANCE FOOLS!

The latest video obsession, in the house where anyone under 8 years old is obsessed with YouTube and anyone over 12 years old is scared to death of what the youngers will see on YouTube. The one household member who is between 8 and 12 doesn't give a rat's ass about YouTube.

For St. Patrick's Day:This One Filled My Serenity Pad

Maybe I am a little "off" because of my age (not telling), but this took me straight back to the '70s and made me laugh so hard that even crossing my legs and Kegelling didn't help. In honor of St. Patrick's Day (and in honor of Goozie, who now loves this video and the way Mama howls and then runs, and in honor of Rufus, who sings this when no one is listening...):

Thank You, Cin at We're All Mad!

I have consulted the oracle, and next time I need to coerce something out of Bumpus, I have my opening statement.

My Pickup Line Is

I may not be Fred Flintstone but I can make your bed rock

The Magical Pick Up Line Generator

Who Knew?...

...that perfection would come with perpetually bad hair, constantly sticky fingers and cheeks, and a badass attitude? I wouldn't change a thing. :) Today, she learned to say "happy!"

East Texus Leen-goo-ist-icks, Huney.

I've determined that the limits of my intellectual ability occur sometime around the middle of second grade. From there on out, I am not smart enough to help them with their home work, projects, etc.

Rufus to Fatty: "How many syllables in the word 'cowboy'?"

Fatty, with my confidence and conviction: "Well, let's see...cow...bo...ee. That would be three."

And the excessively pitiful thing is that I really meant it, too.

Ha! Now I've told it on myself...Bumpus can't embarrass me at family reunions.

Why Fatty Avoids Psychics

Notice Magoo in the back; she is listening to Mahna Mahna off of an iPod
(and holding both speakers up to her ears).

Last Thursday night, one of our local Relay for Life teams had a fundraiser. For $5, you could drop the little snot nosed hellions off at the school gym at 6 PM, to watch a movie and indulge in the concession stand. A very sweet friend had invited the boys to come over after school, so I worked late. When I picked them up at 6 PM, they had not had dinner but they had eaten their fair share of brownies with chocolate chips added. By the time we got Goozie Magoo picked up and some money out of the cash machine ("What do you mean you don't have any money? Just go to an ATM and get some like everyone else!"), I dropped them off at 6:30, handed them each $5 for the food stand, and mumbled something about buying a hot dog or something else that would make for a...decent...um, something approaching decent...um, okay, crappy but passable dinner.

At 7:55, I arrived back to pick them up (5 minutes early! Ha! I AM a good mother after all!), and Rufus came bounding out the door, looking like a squirrel on crack, and brandishing a half-full can of Big Red. You know that Big Red is loaded with Caffiene, right? What you also don't know is that my one success as a mother is that my kids don't drink Cokes of any sort unless they get them at other people's houses/parties. I am too cheap to keep them in my house.

Fatty to Boudreaux: "So what did you do for the last hour and a half?"

Boudreaux: "We watched most of the 'Mr. Magorium's' movie..." (you expect me to know how to spell that?!?)

Fatty to Rufus, who is partially foaming pink at the mouth: "And what did you do?"

Rufus: "Guzzled Big Red and chased women."

Boudreax: "That's his second Big Red, and I saw him wrestling some kid on the top bleacher."

Do you know why I don't go to a psychic? Because I don't want to know what's coming...

COW GIRL: Two Syllables, Dammit

Volcanic Ash A-Fallin' in East Texus

Day before spring break, 2008: what is this stuff fallin' from the sky? Must be a volcano erupting near by...

Hey Cat Crap and Yo Mama!I Gotz Us a New Hobby

I may be a little punchy from long-term sleep deprivation, but this is one of the bestest things I have seen online in many a moon. Thez folks talks jus like mah Mama, and I gotz ta sounz dem outs jus tah make it a lil sense:

http://www.lolcatbible.com/

Here's the beginning of Genesis:

"1 Oh hai. In teh beginnin Ceiling Cat maded teh skiez An da Urfs, but he did not eated dem.

2 Da Urfs no had shapez An haded dark face, An Ceiling Cat rode invisible bike over teh waterz.

3 At start, no has lyte. An Ceiling Cat sayz, i can haz lite? An lite wuz.4 An Ceiling Cat sawed teh lite, to seez stuffs, An splitted teh lite from dark but taht wuz ok cuz kittehs can see in teh dark An not tripz over nethin.5 An Ceiling Cat sayed light Day An dark no Day. It were FURST!!!"

I'm in ur versus Moses-in' with yer Cheezits.

Videos for the Day

I must be young at heart, because stuff like this still makes me laugh...only now, after three kids, when I say, "I laughed so hard, I wet my pants," I mean it...it's really true.

Magoo Sings and Shows Off Her Vocab

Boudreaux would like nothing more than for Goozie to say his name, but notice at the very end, I say, "Say Hank." And she says "Bubba."

Can people named Bubba even get into RU?

Thank You Big Brothers,For Teaching Her THE WORD

Crucial Video of the MomentYou'll Understand More Soon...

How Bumpus Got a Himself SlappedAt 7 AM on Valentine's Morning

Fatty to Bumpus:

"Look at my loverly $7 Valentine's Day shirt. See the four hearts? That's you on the outside, holding it all together, then our three precious offspring, big and medium and little precious girly in the middle. My four loved ones. You are all what makes my heart go pitter patter."

Bumpus:

"That's nice. Can I touch your boobs?"

Fatty Remembers an Important Lesson,Rufus Watches and Learns

Last Monday afternoon, I picked the boys up from school as normal. The elder, Boudreaux, was unusually sullen in the car. This sudden and unexplained moody behavior has been relatively common lately. Hello? He's only NINE!?! I am supposed to be entitled to at least two more years of in-home training before I have to deal with this?!? But the Moms of his friends warned me that theirs were acting more difficult, too. All I know to do now is give him some space. So I didn't say anything.

Upon arriving home, he stomped to his room, took off his shoes and socks, and then started pacing around the house huffing and puffing and griping in a progressively louder voice. I still had no clue what was going on, so I tried to listen in. He was going on about "UNFAIR!...Not worth being here...Go somewhere else...Don't DESERVE it..." I dared to ask, "What are you upset about?" He glared at me and stomped away, slamming the door to his room. As I stood in wonder before turning around and laying my finger aside of my nose and giving a nod...Oh, I'm sorry, I got off track. Anyway, heard him mumble something about leaving.

So here it is, my first running away threat.

Again, I leave him alone but stand at the door listening. He is packing his backpack. Rufus is also standing around in the vicinity, watching this whole thing unfold. Goozie is blissfully picking her nose and feeding her boogers to the pigdog.

I wait a few minutes, knock, and open the door. He marches past me, backpack in hand and announcing loudly: "I am leaving! I don't deserve to live here! I'll go somewhere else!"

"Hello?" I say. "Is there something going on that I don't know about? Did something upset you? Do you care to speak to me like I'm a normal human being and not a door mat?"

"You don't care!" he yells. "I am running away, leaving, going somewhere ELSE!"

[Searching for how to handle this, I reminisce back to about 1978... my BIG MEAN MOTHER would not let me carry about cute little two week old kitties in the plastic, flowered basket of my purple bicycle with the bananna seat and chrome handle bars! Hello? Kitties just want to have fun! A healthy dose of adventure will make them happy! Who cares if their eyes aren't totally open! The wind through their fur! Like Easy Rider, south Texas style! What did I do to deserve this UNFAIR DICTATORIAL IMPOSITION, this INFRINGMENT UPON MY YARD-CAT HAVIN' RIGHT? I made a plan to break out of that oppressive prison, and I packed my Scooby-Friggin'-Doo backpack.

Marching to the kitchen to wish that wicked witch of an unfair world goodbye, I remember anticipating that she would beg me to stay...even cry! I would BRING HER TO HER KNEES. "I am running A-WAY!" I announced. And you, my dear Yo Mama, calmly said, still facing the kitchen sink, "Would you like me to make you a peanut butter sandwich for the road?" DAMMIT! That is not what I wanted. I marched back up to my room and unpacked.]

So upon Boudreaux's insisted (yet still mysteriously precipitated) declaration, I calmly reponded, "Well, if that's what you're going to do, then you'll want to put on your shoes and take a jacket."

I am not nice enough to offer food.

He stomped back to his room. I thought he was putting on his shoes, but instead he came out 5 minutes later--still barefoot, much calmer, even almost cheerful and no sign of the backpack--sat the kitchen table like normal and asked if he could have a snack...?!? The rest of the day proceeded as normal.

Now, every time Boudreaux gets mad over some domestic injustice, Rufus looks at him and says, "If you don't get what you want and decide to run away, then can I have your bed and extra DS games?"

The mystery is later solved: Finally, he told me that his issue was that Goozie Magoo had scribbled all over his homework. He had been "forced" to throw it away and then had to stay inside during recess to do it all over again. I don't buy the first part of that about being forced to throw it away...if he had been smart, he could have just copied the work onto a fresh sheet. I also don't buy it because if he had really looked at the sheet of girlchild scribbles, he would have seen that it actually wasn't his homework. His homework was on the counter where he left it the night before.

Electric Boogaloo

Photos for YM

What does any self-respecting feminist do when Barak trumps Hilary 2-to-1 in the South Carolina primary? Why, she puts on her "Deal with It" socks (thanks Cat Crap), does a happy dance, and beats the male residents about the knees with her trusty light saber. Who needs penis envy when she can whip out her lipstick any time she damn well pleases?

I think she got her dental issues from them Brits way back there in our bloodline.

Not to Be Outdone:Rufus Makes a Comment to the Preacher

Last night we had our cub scout pack meeting, which is just a sinnie-nim for "lock a bunch of hyperactive boys wearing blue and khaki shirts in a building together for an hour so they can scream and run in circles." Cub Scouts is one of the few ways that I force myself to be social and involved beyond the sacred borders of my property, and I am always so relieved to return home to my pajama pants and beer steins of box wine.

God bless his soul, the Methodist pastor agreed to come talk to the hoodlums about faith. I'm not easily impressed with ministers/preachers/shepherds/reverends/pulpit-bullies because too many of them talk with a funny preacher accent and seem all too pleased just to hear themselves talk. Call me a Gen X skeptic, but I just don't have the braincells or attention span to spare. But this pastor is different. He doesn't have that accent, and he doesn't act like he has all the answers, and he doesn't threaten that we're going to hell for mowing the lawn on a gorgeous Sunday morning. He is just good. So he talked to the boys for about 10 minutes about faith and love and God's gifts. The point was that God has given humans faith (or the ability to have faith) as a gift. Then he asks, "So what are some examples of gifts that God has given us?"

Cub Scout #1: "Eyes. God gave us eyes to see."

Unsuspecting Pastor: "Yes, excellent."

CS #2: "Knowledge. He gave us the power to think."

UP: "And a great gift that is!"

CS #3: "Our parents. He gave us parents who love us and give us everything we want."

UP: "Well, yes, that is definitely a gift. Who else? Who has another example of a gift God gave us?"

Rufus: "Hell and the devil!"

UP looks confused.

Rufus: "Well, God kicked that bad angel out of heaven, so then he became the devil and made hell. God made it happen, which makes hell and the devil a gift, right? But I'm not supposed to talk about hell because that's a bad word."

(Cricket chirping noises begin here.)

A Synonym for Marriage is...

...Bondage.

That is what Boudreaux wrote on his sinny-nim/aunty-nim homework yesterday. When I asked him why he chose that as a synomym, he answered, "I dunno...'cause they both keep you tied down."

The authors of this blog all seem to have gone off the deep end.

Golly Gee Whiz What Is It I See?

Lookin 2 me like them boyes
gittin an eye-ful.

I dont B thinking Y.M. wants
a look ...........

If U B no-in NEbody with kilties....

Yo Mama standin by to no if it B true
that folks who wear them kiltie things
wood B willin to tes-ti-fy re: unner
wares. Pls. 2 let me no rite away so I
kan sleep better 2-nite.

A Word To The Wise

As Yo Granmamaw mite sey, she sed lotsa
thingies, a penny saved is a penny earned,
pretty is as pretty duz, the attached shows
a great sufficiency of what you B needin 2
think bout.

Yo Mama has spoken

I Think I Live in Hell

You Mamas Don't Let Your Girlies Shop Alone

I ben tole this B the latest stile in wear 4 girlies.
This ain't no C-thru-skirt, it B a skirt with this
lovely painted on it. Shore lookin reel 2 me. I
also B hoping my big girlies ain't gittin none either.
Jes think what might be next round the corner,
both 4 girls and boys !

A Proud Queen

Dont cha jes no that the Queenie is Proud of Her Boys, as well she
shud be. Y.M. is proud of 'em too. Whew !

What the Exterminator Saw,Or, How I Built My East Texus Reputation

Bumpus and I have a little game going. All them experts on the morning shows say that you should spice up yer marriage with some flirtin', and after 15 years of holy yellin' matrimony, spice is a good thing.

Someone gave Goozie these foam rubber letters that stick to the shower wall, so we take turns leaving each other messages. Bumpus took his shower this morning and left me something special. Thirty minutes later, the exterminator arrived. I had totally forgotten that he was coming. He is a very sweet, quiet, shy Christian man who hopefully is blind to how CDC-bad filthy my bathroom is...dust bunnies in all corners, soap goo all in the sinks, hair in all unnatural places.

When he emerged from that hazardous pit, he was looking rather sheepish. Do you think it was the ring in the toilet (sorry YM) or the shower door was standing wide open to broadcast Bumpus's invitation?

Goin' to Town

"Let's get ready to go to town," I said.
And so she got her getup on...

Monkey See, Monkey Do

First Hair Cut

Paper Work & Computer Work

Felix & Oscar Live:Or, Alternatively, What Happens WhenFatty Says "Forget It"

This is a true story, every word of it, and although it's way too long, I need to record it for pos-tear-it-tee's sake, because it does fortell the future.

Tuesday night, I arrived home after a long day or work and meetings to get my usual greeting: "We're hoooooooonnnnngry! What's for dinner?" To which I responded, "Shut up and get me a pint of wine from the box." Well, not really, but that's what I was thinking anyway. I did my deep breathing exercises, recently recommended by my anger management coach, and "assumed the position" (behind the counter with some things that I can throw at people, like wooden spoons, and some things I shouldn't throw at people, like knives and plates).

By some wonderful miracle, the kitchen was actually clean. I put some pre-breaded, frozen chicken strips in the oven (because I'm a loving, health-conscious Mother who only buys organic) and tinkered around waiting for them to be ready. In the midst of my tinkering, I noticed that the compost bucket needed to be emptied. What a perfect job for a short person who can't legally drink.

Fatty to the boys, who are in repose upon the sofas, gazing upon scholarly tomes with lots of pictures all the whilst picking their snooters: "I need someone to please take the compost out."

This chore involves opening a door and walking about 50 feet, dumping a bucket on a small pile, turning around, walking 50 feet back inside, closing the door, and putting the bucket on the counter. Big whoop.

Rufus, who is quick on the draw: "I did it last time! He has to do it!"

At this point, Boudreaux emits a loud nasal sound that is somewhat akin to the siren on an East Texus ambulance: "AWWWWWWWWWWWW, DO I HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE TO?"

Now, I don't know what planet's moon was in what orbit, but my fuse wasn't short enough to get even get lit...I just went from zero to absolutely pissed off in about 2.3 nanoseconds:

"Fine," I said, "I'll take it out and you people can make your own dinner. If you can't do anything helpful for me, then I won't be helpful for you."

At this point, I expected much apologies and butt kissing and someone else to take the damn compost out, but in the two second pause that I allowed, none of this happened, so I stomped out to the damn heap and dumped the damned stuff myself. Upon returning inside, the timer went off for the chicken strips, so I put the hot pan on the stove top, put a fork next to them, got down two plates from the tall cabinet, and said, "Okay, that's all I'm contributing. The pan is hot, so don't burn yourself because you get no sympathy from me. Come in here and make your dinner."

At this point, I expected more whining and pleading, but no, I left the kitchen, and both boys got up to fix their dinners (aka, put a chicken strip on a plate). My next expectation was that each would eat just a chicken strip for dinner, because after all, that was cooked and waiting. But again, I was wrong. The scene that unfolded was an amazing illustration of birth order, genetics, and other stuff that I don't have the brain cells to list here.

Rufus got a plate, put a chicken strip on it, and walked to the table, not saying a word (MIRACLE!). His vibe was "I don't give a damn what sort of fit you throw. I'll eat my chicken and show you I don't care." He was a miniature version of Bumpus. Exactly.

But Boudreaux marched into the kitchen with a screaming air of "Alright then, I'll show you, dammit!" Yes, he is his mother's child and acts just like her. He then dug an orange out of the fridge, got a cutting board and a knife (not exceptionally sharp, so I just watched in interest from the other room), and proceeded to peel and section the orange. Rufus sat eating in silence. Boudreaux (just like his Mama would) marched over to the table and put half the orange segments on Rufus's plate: "Eat this," he commanded. Rufus (just like his Daddy) sat in silence, chewing.

Boudreaux picked up an apple, sliced it, cored it (well, sort of), and again, marched half of it over to Rufus's plate: "Eat this too," little bossy-like-me commanded. Stoic-"I'm not gonna let you get to me"-like-his-Daddy-Rufus sat in silence, chewing.

Boudreaux went to the icebox and dug out the green beans, put the container in the microwave for 60 seconds, marched back to Rufus and put about 10 green beans on his plate. Rufus, who will refuse all cooperation, spoke: "I don't want green beans. In fact I haven't asked for any of this." Boudreaux de la Mama: "You need to eat a vegetable. Hush up and eat them." Rufus goes back to silent chewing.

Boudreax returned to the kitchen, opened the bread and put a piece on his plate (with the chicken, apple, orange, and green beans). At this point, Rufus silently got up from the table, took his plate into the kitchen, and put it on the counter...the chicken, apple, and orange eatten, and the green beans untouched. Boudreaux looks at the green beans, bursts into screaming tears and runs out of the room, throwing himself face down on the bed and wailing loudly.

Rufus, unfazed, walks into the living room and sits down with a book.

The wailing continues, Rufus looking unaffected.

"Would you like some advice?" I finally ask.

R: "About what?"

F: "About your brother, who is throwing a screaming hissy fit this very moment."

R, after a long pause: "I guess."

F: "I suggest you go in there and (1) thank him for making your dinner and (2) tell him you will wash the dishes in return."

Rufus thought for a minute and then got up and went into the room where Boudreaux sounded like he might be in the later stages of labor. Almost immediately Rufus comes back out, picks up his book, and sits back down.

F: "Did you tell him?"

R: "No."

F: "Why not?"

R: "Because he is screaming so loud that he can't hear me."

F: "I suggest tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention."

He does and makes his peace and goes back to his book. Boudreaux eventually pulls himself together and returns to the kitchen, where he goes back to his slice of bread, gets out a slice of cheese, and makes himself 1/2 of a cheese sandwich to go with his dinner. He has a balanced meal: chicken, apple, orange, green beans, cheese, and bread, with a large glass of milk (poured himself). I am impressed by trying hard to look uninvolved.

Rufus to Boudreaux: "When you're done, I'll clean up. Thank you again for my dinner."

Boudreaux: "If you had been a little more grateful, you could have had a balanced meal like me."

Rufus did the dishes.

Kaptin's Teeth 2 Dull to Eat N. E. More

The Kaptin He B seying that his teeth
done got dull and He thinkin Y. M.
should call the Dentist-of-Record and
C what he mite charge to shapen the
Kaptin's teeth. Y. M. is sumwhat a
bit reluctant to make the call cause
I B thinkin the DOR will just whoop
and holler and laugh and make smartie remarks. Cud one of
U take care of this 4 Y.M.?
I B standin by awaitin your replies.
Wunder what the familee queen of all wud think? Meybe we
cud get a 2 for 1 deal? Do U suppose thet when you ain't
chewin food properly it jes turns to fat faster? Give one a lot
to think about at bedtime when U kaint go to sleep, don't it.

Happy Hal

Nice picture of Hal
Christmas evening
before dinner

For the Potty Mouth crowd.........

Y.M. thought there might be a certain factor
within the viewing audience that would find
this worthy of attention. I guess the M.S. Poop
is a floating cess-pool-barge that goes around
collecting a little something to then transfer
N-2 the water trailer marine center to flow on
to join other tributaries ... and then what? I'll
bet the Potty Mouth Crowd has an answer?

You saw it first on Y.M.'s hot line..........

"You Should Have Seen The Other Gal"

This is basically for the Middle Child in a particular home.
It just proves that even very old ladies can have a run-in
from time to time.
Actually there was not a "other gal", I am pleased to say.
There was a loose board on the boat dock at the boat show
and Y.M. went a-flying thru the air. One of the men on the
boat where I was supposed to be HEARD the crash and saw
my blouse on the dock and came a-running. Poor Y.M.

My New Obsession

RUN, don't walk, to your nearest store and BUY. Yes, they are
high priced, but you can hide them in the closet or wherever you
hide your wine-in-a-box. I can eat a whole box in nothing flat.
They come in several flavors, all good. My favorite, I guess, is the
"Melting Romano". Our Publix has these little dandies displayed
by the fancy cheese/deli area. Let Yo Mama know what you be
thinking!

Sunset at Anglers Club

We boated with friends last night and as we came home this is the light
we had to guide us ..... what a memorable sight. Made me think of each
of you and wish you were here. Love from Y.M. and Hal and Lucy

Christmas Eve

Twas the Night Before Christmas and all through the Boat......

Milestone for the Day:Magoo Moves to the Big Table

Click on the picture to consider it in detail. Handwashing is recommended.

A Day to Note: Dec 12, 2007

Today, for over four hours, my kitchen was CLEAN...not even a dirty glass.

RIP Clean Kitchen

b. 10:30 AM

d. 3:15 PM

(Yes, to avoid dirtying a glass, I just drank my wine straight from the box.)

The 2007 East Texus Finger Licking Christmas MiracleAKA: Fatty Gets a Compliment

I found an outstanding recipe for oven-fried drumsticks online here. One small adjustment, cause as Bumpus says, I "can't ever leave a recipe alone": next time, I would leave out the tin foil and just soak the pans. I had one pan with no foil, and those drumsticks turned out really nice and crispy.

Since I am normally fond of the breastuses and get real snotty about eatting any other parts, for me to say this is good, it must be excellent. And when ground beef is 2.99 per pound and drumsticks are on sale for .99 per pound, this recipe is friggin damn fine.

When the boys even like it, well, then I have a miracle. From hence forth, it shall be called such.

Upon tasting them, they consulted and paid me the highest culinary compliments they could fathom.

Rufus: "Mama, you should be on Iron Chef!"
Boudreaux: "No, even better...Mama, you should work at Golden Coral!"