One Of Our Submarines Is Missing

As I was leaving work on Thursday, I caught up with my boss, Evil PXE (computer term for “Pre-boot Execution Environment” and pronounced “Pixie”) and another co-worker who thanked me for the List of Lists. “I especially liked the one about Poets naming breakfast cereals," she said. Evil PXE gave me a funny look.

"Oh, the one I liked was why the Little Teapot wasn't popular in school." My friend laughed and Evil PXE gave me another confused glance. I continued in a flat voice," She was short. She was stout. She slept around and everyone knew it."

"What?" Evil PXE asked.

"It's a joke. From the song?" I demonstrated the movements, putting one hand on my hip, the other as the pouring spout. "I'm a little teapot, short and stout...?" He continued to stare at me. "And she was a slut."

"That's not in the song," he said.

My friend and I laughed. "That's why it's funny!" She made her goodbyes and left Evil PXE and I in the hallway.

"You know, you can come in tomorrow if you want to..."

"I'm taking the day off, remember? CrafterKat and I have tickets to Thomas Dolby tonight."

He laughed, "I know. Have a good time. Who is opening for them?"

"I don't know. Some group called The Pleasure Bots or something. Could be...interesting."

By the time I returned home, CrafterKat was in her concert clothes and Critter had secured a sleepover with a girlfriend up the street. We shuffled her out the door and then filled each other in our day as we drove over to the Aladdin Theater, a lovely old theater complete with balconies and ancient wall sconces.

"It starts at 8:00, right?" I nodded. "Who is opening for him?"

"Well, some little band I've never heard of. The Pleasure Robots? The Sex Bots? I don't know." I pictured guys in white vinyl behind an array of synthesizers with inflatable adult mannequins as backup singers.

We parked and found seats behind the mixing board. The stage had a multitude of syntehesizers piled in one corner and a screen in the back of the stage. A couple of Apple notebooks could be seen , waiting for musical input.

The lights dimmed and polite applause enveloped us. Two men entered carrying electric guitars and proceeded to the two notebook computers which were hooked up to a synthesizer each. They pressed a few buttons and 80's era synthesized pop music streamed forth.

For the next hour we heard the same song repeated over and over. Well, maybe not the exact same song. "They kind of sound like Big Country," said CrafterKat. "No, maybe ABC. No, maybe A-Ha." The men played guitars...barely. You could almost hear the chords from time to time above the synthesized beat.

The best parts, though, were when each man would stride to their notebook, nodding their heads in time with the music and glance from the keyboard to their music partner. Their telepathic conversation was something like:

Bot 1: I'm getting ready to hit 'Enter'. Are you ready to hit 'Enter'?
Bot 2: I've got my next beat programmed. Are you ready to hit 'Enter'?
Bot 1: I'm ready to hit 'Enter'. We totally rock.
Bot 2: Okay, let's hit 'Enter'. In one...
Bot 1: In two...
Bot 2: In three...
Both: (press the Enter button on their notebooks)
Bot 1: We totally rock.
Bot 2: Yeah, we rock!

CrafterKat couldn't take it anymore and went outside to check the merchandise table. When she returned I learned that not only did they have a CD available, but they have one CD with thirteen versions of the same song!

"Portland! Are you ready to dance now? This song was from our Psykosonik days!" The Portland audience gave polite applause but it didn't drown out the people who were discussing Thomas Dolby and drinking beer. But Bot 1 didn't seem to mind and misinterpreted, "Well, we definitely gotta come back to Portland more often!"

Finally, the opening band finished and we waited patiently for Thomas Dolby to enter. He did a few moments later, wearing a long buttoned-up overcoat and head gear. Remember Lando's pal in the Cloud City who had the computer fused to his brain? He had nothing on Mr. Dolby.

The lights dimmed as Dolby approached the array of synteshizers. The screen behind him lit up and we were suddenly swooping and diving across the keyboards, following his hand movements. The head gear he wore had cameras above either ear allowing us to watch as he crafted melodies. Amazing.

For ninety minutes, Dolby dazzled us with liquid melodies and snappy rhythms. He played his commercial successes (Europa and the Pirate Twins ), some of his favorites (I Live in a Suitcase) and gave insight to the lyrics of a few others. He spoke to the geeks in the audience about some of his toys ("This adjustable stand is used by lots of parishes!") and how he marvelled at new discoveries in science. One of earth's sattelites has, for instance, captured solar flares and recorded them in ones and zeroes. Dolby took those binary bits and encoded them into midi, playing the solar music for us and then dipped into Windpower.

He ended his performance with She Blinded Me with Science, his most recognizable song from the 80's. After much applause, he returned to the stage and admitted that he didn't have any other songs queued up for the concert. "But, this went over pretty well at one of the other gigs I did," and he proceeded to build a song for us. A few taps on one keyboard, set the tempo and then repeat. A rhythm introduced on a second machine, overlaying the first. It took well over five minutes before the first strands of Hyperactive floated through the tiny theater. We were mesmerized.

As he closed up for the night, he added a few words for the opening band. "Hey, what did you think of Basic Pleasure Model?" Polite applause. "They've not performed on stage in nine years!" CrafterKat and I laughed.

Later that weekend, as we prepared dinner to christen our new deck furniture with a nice stir fry, Critter asked, "Who did you see in concert?"

CrafterCat answered, "Thomas Dolby. He's a musician we like from the 80's."

She looked up from the noodles she spooned onto plates. "Is he a Beatle?"

Sigh. I guess one of our submarines is missing...

Busted!

CrafterKat and Critter flew to Medford at the end of Spring Break to see OSF's The Winter's Tale and a musical called Honkey Tonk Laundry.

I picked them up at the airport and brought them home, CrafterKat telling little snippets of adventures the whole way home. As I finished making dinner, the two of them unpacked their things, returning from their bedrooms to show me things they had brought home from vacation.

Critter brought in two coloring books, one on Midsummer Night's Dream while I was stirring up the Caesar salad. CrafterKat brought out a bag of scrapbooking goodies from Craft Warehouse.

I spooned up the pork loins from the slow cooker when Critter came back to the kitchen. "Hold out your hand and close your eyes," she told me.

I complied and was rewarded with one of my favorite Easter candies, Whopper Robin Eggs. Grinning, I gave her my thanks and added, "You must have found my stash."

She gave me a puzzled look, furrowing her brow. "These are from my travel bag. CrafterKat bought me some."

"Oh." I plopped the delicious morsel into my mouth and began cleaning up the spill from the slow cooker.

My words finally registered. "What did you say?"

"Nuffing," I managed around the sweet and lowered my head so she couldn't see my smirk.

"Wait." She ran to the kitchen entry way and yelled down the hall, "JewelGeek already bought some!"

Busted.

In Order To Relate The Story

Things are finally returning to a bit of normalcy in our home. March consisted of Critter getting ill, CrafterKat getting ill, me staying home with a temp for three days, and Critter getting ill a second time with a fever and a sinus infection. By Spring Break we were over the worst of it and able to finally enjoy some of the things that had been accomplished between high-pitched fevers.

CrafterKat and Mr. GoGoGo spent one weekend removing the old toilet and vanity from the downstairs bathroom. We chose a lovely yellow paint with a chiffon butternut type of name that looked completely different than the butternut chiffon. More eggplanty than meringue but less creamy than lemon. All I know is that I was hungry after finally choosing.

The following weekend, Mr. GoGoGo returned and laid new vinyl flooring in the bathroom and downstairs hallway. The new vanity and sink went in, followed by a new toilet, showerhead, and medicine cabinet/mirror. It looks fantastic! We have just one piece to put in—storage over the toilet to hold hand towels and other small items.

With Critter feeling better and school let out for a week, one of her best friends came to spend the night. The girls sang karaoke during the day and CrafterKat and I tried to tidy up loose ends around the house. We had purchased a new CD Recorder for our stereo unit (our anniversary gift to ourselves) and new stereo speakers since our old ones were from the days of the Partridge Family. We sat amidst stereo components and relabeled all the cables and tested the speakers.

When things finally worked as they were supposed to (meaning no kitties had unplugged anything during a break), CrafterKat began testing the new CD recorder with cassette tapes of a story she has enjoyed since childhood, Treasure Island.

Click. Whir. Click-click. In order to relate the story of Treasure Island…

“I’m not getting any levels on the CD player,” CrafterKat sighed. Click. Rewind. Random buttons were pushed. The girls entered and departed again, giggling. I left the stereo in her capable hands and called my Mother, the Social Butterfly, to check in. “Hello, it’s your mother,” I said into the receiver. She laughed. “Sorry, I’ve been in Mom mode this evening.” I looked up at the clock and realized it was time for Critter’s antibiotic. “Just a minute.” I dashed into the bathroom and retrieved the pill bottle, informing Critter that it was time for her medicine. My mother on the other end of the phone chuckled. “Okay, I’m done now.” We discussed her weekend and when she was going to come up to our house again.

Click. Whir. Click-click. In order to relate the story of Treasure Island, I must begin in the year seventeen…

“Presenting, the blue fairy!” Critter’s friend announced. Critter emerged in a blue Shakespearean era gown from her play clothes collection, complete with fairy wings she had made at Craft camp last summer. Her friend wore pantaloons and a checkered jester shirt. They giggled and returned to the bedroom.

…the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow Inn. Click. “The CD isn’t moving. I’m not getting any sound recorded.” CrafterKat went downstairs looking for something.

I returned to my phone conversation with my mother. “So you want to come up on Wednesday, then?” CrafterKat’s cell phone rang. I ran to her purse and answered, trying to make sense of two conversations. “Hello Grandpa. I’ll see if CrafterKat is available,” and began walking towards the stairs.

Critter emerged in another ensemble and the expectant is-it-a-boy? look on her face. “No, it’s Grandpa,” I told her and my two phone callers.

Mr. GoGoGo informed me that he needed to speak to Critter about fishing poles. I handed the cell phone off and returned to my mother. CrafterKat emerged a few minutes later and tried again.

Click. Whir. Click-click. …and the brown old seaman, with the saber cut, first took up lodging under our roof…

The fairies returned to the modeling runway, one wearing a Roman tunic and green velvet half-cape, the other in a cream gown from the fifties. We applauded their fashion sense and CrafterKat informed Critter that the dress was actually LaLa’s wedding gown, from fifty years ago. Critter’s eyes grew large at this pronouncement and she ducked back to her room to get another outfit.

…Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest. Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

Leaning against the hole in the living room where the new fireplace will sit, I brought CrafterKat up-to-date on my mother’s agenda, “…and so my Mom’s picking up the fishing pole for Critter’s speech…”

A hooded figure emerged from the dark hallway and proceeded to my abandoned chair by the computer. “I want to suck out your soooouuuuulllll,” Critter intoned to my empty seat.

“Aaaaaccckkk!” I gurgled and fell to my knees. “Nooooooo” and proceeded to fall face forward on the carpet, my feet sticking up in the air.

…keep a weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg…

Critter laughed and picked up her cloak to run back down the hallway. The fashion faeries eventually went to bed and CrafterKat’s fiddling finally produced recorded results.

As I said, things are finally returning to normal.

Two Hours Late!

I always longed to hear these words on a school day...

Zombie Toes and Pickle Muffins

Critter made mac and fromage with tuna for dinner tonight, one of her yummy favorites. I believe this is partly due to the fact that she puts the tuna juice on tiny plates for the kitties to lap up; any excuse to give out a kitty treat! I am still uncertain how the cats know that this can contains tuna and not any of the other cans we open for various other meals. They came running from all over the house.

We ate in the living room, her barefoot and in pajamas, me still in my work clothes. She spread her toes wide as she ate, stretching them far apart and then squishing them together again. “I can’t do that,” I said.

“What?”

“Spread my toes like that. They all stick together. I can only move my big toe.”

“I can’t move my big toe except with all the others. Or up and down.” She demonstrated her flexibility against the hope chest.

“You know,” I mused, trying to insert a science lesson in, “in about 40 or 50 or 60 thousand years evolution will completely change our toes. We’ll have one really big toe and no little toe on the end.”

She frowned. “But I’ll miss it.”

“Honey, you won’t be around to miss it. It’s just how evolution works. There will be a time when people have little itty bitty stubs at the end of their feet and one really wide big toe.”

“But I want to keep it,” she whined.

“But you’ll be dead,” I whined back.

She adopted her serious, adult posture. “No, I’ll be a zombie walking the earth and I’ll say, ‘Where’s my little toe.’”

I nodded. “Yeah, zombies are always losing body parts.” She reminded me that her two best friends would be by her side to pick up any missing extremities and that she would hold onto their missing bits, too. “You are going to be such a good zombie friend,” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” she answered. I helped her bring dishes into the kitchen and began loading the dishwasher. “Have you tried the orange muffins yet? They’re really good.”

I shook my head. “No, what do they taste like? Really orangey?”

“Well, sweet. You know, like when you eat a pickle…?”

“Are you telling me that these muffins taste like pickles? Is that a way to not get me to eat them? ‘JewelGeek, these muffins taste like four or five pickles. You’d love them.’ And I’d have to turn them down since I don’t like pickles and there’d be more for you.”

She smirked. “That’s not what I was saying! I meant that I had a pickle just before eating the muffin and for a time they tasted sweet just like pickles are sweet. But the muffin did not taste like pickles!”

I laughed. “Oh? Did I just put words in your mouth? Can I have them back?” I reached for her mouth with my dishpan hands.

Critter stuck her tongue out. “Blech! There you go!”

Despite all the little arguments or disagreements that happen with being a teenager and a parent, it’s these encounters that I’ll cherish years from now.

Obvious Doesn't Mean Easy

We had to put DaintyKitty down the Friday before we left for Disneyland last November. (Did I tell you this already?) It was an obvious decision - she had cancer in her gut somewhere; it was going to cost thousands of dollars to find it, and more to treat it, and then she'd still only have a year or so to live - most of which would have been spent at the pet hospital.

I took a night to think about it. DaintyKitty spent the evening sitting on my chest in her "loaf" position, and looking at me like "Just do it, Mommy. I hurt, and I'm tired, and it will be ok."

So the next afternoon, my dad and I took her in and said goodbye. I was brave - I don't think I cried there. We even went down the street afterwards to GI Joes and bought a travel bag for the Disneyland trip, and it was like everything was normal.

Truth is - it was totally the right decision. She was 17; she was really old. It was time.

And yet on this past Saturday, FuzzySlug was crying because she was "lost" in our bedroom, and I kept calling and calling her, and she didn't come.

And then Critter said, "Uh, you're calling for DaintyKitty..."

Oh. Oops.

So right decision or not, it still hurts. And sometimes, unexpectedly, I miss her something awful. Obvious doesn't mean easy.

Lullaby Drool

Critter is VERY tired tonight because she was up until 1 am at the sleepover last night. She didn't want to nap when she came home, so she and I went shopping for several hours. Mostly, I wore her out. When we came home, she was a virtual zombie, and quietly disappeared into her room for a 2 hour nap.

Now, of course, as we approach bedtime, she claims she is not tired and too wound up to sleep. I offer to sing her some lullabies, but she dismisses me. Politely. So I do the only thing left to me - I model the desired behavior. I trundle into her room, load in one of my favorite cassette tapes, and fiddle with the "mood lighting". I adjust the her new sheer curtains to cover the window, and wait.

Within moments, Critter is in her room, sprawled across her bed sideways, telling me it's her bed and there's no room for me. Ignoring her, I start the tape and tickle her feet until he moves enough for me to flob across the end of her bed. Not to be outdone, Critter flings herself on my stomach - sending us both into fits of laughter. Never mind that I can't breathe.

I systematically tickle her under her arms and around her knees until she frees me. And I take my leave. Within a few moments, she's back out in the livingroom - presumably giving Jewel Geek a goodnight hug. But actually, she's dawdling. So I march back in to her room and get under the covers, this time lying on my side with my bony hip up.

Critter flobs across my hip, and laughs like she has me pinned. I start rocking back and forth, which rubs her face in her blankets, and she's suddenly laughing hysterically.

"You made me drool!" she croaks, her voice raw with laughter and a pending cold.

"Oh, sorry," I chuckle back.

Critter adjusts herself farther across the bed, but still draped over my hip. I commence rocking back and forth again, and this time, her whole face is rubbed smooth in the blanket.

"Ewwww," she complains. "Now I have to go wash my face. It's covered in drool..."

Freed from her weight, I hop out of the bed, and begin my own bedtime preparations. Face cleaned, Critter reappears at my bedroom door, this time with a sincere goodnight hug for both me and Jewel Geek.

Exhausted, face washed, and sniffling, she is finally embracing sleep. Her blanket is still wet with drool.

She should have taken the lullabies.

Motown Police

Critter went to a teen dance club Friday night with some of her friends. She looked tired, but happy, when she came home from the sleepover.

"How was it," we asked.

"Hot."

"What did you do?"

"Danced. Talked with friends."

"What kind of music did they play? 80's music?"

"Yeah. They played that 'Respect' song," she replied.

I frowned. "R-E-S-P-E-C-T? Find out what it means to me?"

She nodded. I'm sure the Motown Police will be at our door soon to re-educate her on music history.

Asbestos, Hugs and Yucks

For Valentine’s Day I gave CrafterKat an asbestos-free living room. I think it is far more romantic than a circular saw.

We locked the cats in two bedrooms and the team of men plastered our walls with two layers of plastic to contain the asbestos which they shaved off the ceiling. By noon the room was completely bare, only the first layer of plastic remained with a fierce warning:


Made me shiver every time I came upstairs to check on the progress.

That evening, CrafterKat was craving a good steak. We took Critter with us to High Rocks Steakery & Pub. I’m uncertain what exactly makes a restaurant a steakery, as Websters has never heard of that word before (though it did suggest that perhaps we meant stalkier or stickler). We learned that their two-for-one Tuesday steak night does not apply on Valentine’s Day. Nonetheless, we both had an excellent filet mignon and exchanged Rebus word puzzles on our placemats. Critter had quite a few that CrafterKat and I did not know.

At the end of the night we exchanged Hugs and a few Yucks (Critter’s middle school translation of the Hugs and Kisses conversation hearts).

From the Middle of a Great Big Empty

This week we are finally having the asbestos-laden popcorn ceiling in our living room and dining room removed. This is the pre-cursor step to having some remodeling done in the house. CrafterKat has received bids for replacing the gas fireplace (with one that actually works!) and a new deck on the back porch (where people won’t fall through!).

We’ve spent the week removing bits and pieces from the living room and even after taking two loads to the Salvation Army, it was hard to see a dent. Fortunately, we had help from CrafterKat’s father, Mr. GoGoGo, and her brother, the Renaissance Man, to move the larger furniture pieces and the BBQ from the back porch.

Our two main bedrooms are now full with furniture, knickknacks, papers to be filed, books, DVD’s, and assorted kitty toys. The cats are having a field day. King James has rediscovered his teal mouse and an extra long twist tie. Doofie enjoys perching on the sofa which we upended by the linen closet.

CrafterKat and I throw MASH quotes at each other—our living room now echoes like Colonel Blake’s office in “Crisis” after the 4077 burns everything in site, including the CO’s desk, to keep warm.

Asbestos removal is Tuesday and Wednesday; we head to the coast on Friday night to relax. We found some house rentals in Bella Beach with rates comparable to a nice room in a hotel. Critter is bringing a girlfriend from up the street. CrafterKat and I are bringing DVD’s and a hearty appetite. After all, we will be minutes away from clam chowder, caramel corn, and those little raspberry and blackberry candies I adore.

Here’s hoping your President’s Weekend is enjoyable, too!

Invitation and Standing Tall

The commute home this evening was a nightmare--lights out before the Sunset tunnel, one lane closed, and everyone rushing home to make dinner. My shoulders were slumped as I lugged clothes downstairs to be washed.

Critter found me piling up another batch and showed me some pictures. My mother, the Social Butterfly, has a new cat, a beautiful Calico with an Egyptian face. She then showed me her homework, an invitation to celebrate King Tut's life. I love Tut's topknot.

As I looked over the cat photos again Critter stopped me. "Stand up straight." I relaxed my shoulders and punched my chest out, adding another few inches to my height. "Oh, good, I didn't want to be taller than you yet."

I gave her a hug. I don't want to outgrow her either.

Unintentionally Funny

Queen Matriarch has short term memory issues and horrible eyesight. It is an insanely cruel combination. On the rare moments she does remember that her memory is faulty, she can't see well enough to write herself a note about what she must remember. And she can't see her note to know there is something written on it.

On occasion, this has created unintentional and very funny situations. For example, a few minutes ago, Queen Matriarch came upstairs carrying one of our cordless phones. Mr. GoGoGo knew immediately what had happened and promptly told her "That's the phone. You'll never get the TV to work with that."

"Well, that's why I came upstairs," she said. "I need help finding the remote."

So off they both went back downstairs. As they reached the landing, Queen Matriarch said "I knew when it said to dial again that something wasn't right."

La-La and I roared. Poor Queen Matriarch. She wasn't sure why that was funny. And it was all Mr. GoGoGo could do to keep a straight face.

Mental Health Day

Today I’m taking a mental health day. That’s when you call in sick, but you’re really not. Except I’m kinda sick – a little stuffy, a raging headache, and an upset stomach. But it’s not a virus or bug that has me down. It’s change.

My immediate supervisor just took a different job. Yesterday was her last day. Faceted and I had become friends over the three years we worked together. And while I did not always agree with her managerial choices, Faceted supported me and everyone in the department with the ferocity of a mother lion. Now that she’s gone, the “big stuff” rests squarely on my shoulders. And I’m not even getting paid for it.

There’s opportunity, for sure. Moving into a managerial position is definitely part of my career plan. I’ve been asking lots of questions, getting the higher-ups to think through some niggling issues. And I’ve been encouraged by my coworkers to stay plugged-in, in front of the decision-makers. But the reality is, this is going to be a slow process. I’m facing five to six weeks of little or no movement at least. And still, the “big stuff” will rest on my shoulders.

So I’m taking a day for myself. To cuddle the kitties. To work on Critter’s flannel quilt. To scrapbook our Disneyland trip. To nap and recharge. Oh, yeah, and to wait for the UPS guy to deliver our new flat panel TV for the bedroom. Hee. A gift to Jewel Geek and myself from my last bonus. Why just have a TV, when you can have a gadget?

For today, it is all about ME. Let the crafting, cuddling, scrapping, and napping begin.

His Royal Majesty and The Eclectic Slide

CrafterKat e-mailed me a Friendship Thingy—a basic questionnaire you fill out and forward to your friends asking them to answer likewise. Questions like the name of the last movie you saw (Brokeback Mountain), favorite TV shows (Navy NCIS, Stargate, Extreme Home Makeover), and favorite foods (pumpkin pancakes). One question got me thinking, though: What one thing made you smile today?

I answered and sent my response back to CrafterKat as well as to some of our other friends. But there was actually more than one answer to this question.

Last weekend when Critter picked up His Royal Majesty King James, she discovered a quarter size hard lump on his belly. The vet had just sent a notice that he was due for his four-hour check-up. I called the office on Sunday but they had no more openings for the day. After his ritual weighing (14.5 pounds!), the doctor tugged on King James to get him out of the carrier. “He’s gotten quite heavy!”

I nodded. “Thank you, Steroids.” King James had given us a shock last year when his immune system shut down. We forced steroids into him every day for close to four months to jump start his year-old immune system.

The doctor took a look at the mass. “It’s close to his mammary gland. We could excise it quickly and have it removed. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

The rest of the day I worried until I was able to pick him up that afternoon. King James looked at me with glazed eyes and mewed, wanting to go home. Turns out it was just a lump of hard fat tissue. Critter told me this evening that even though they removed the mass it still didn’t seem to affect his weight.

So, smiles for King James who has been attacking pillow tassels, watching the water go down the kitchen sink, and attempting to overthrow the reigning Queen by sleeping on our bed.

Last night, however, provided another smile. Critter has been preparing for a dance this week, a Cowboy themed event at her school. Just before bed, dressed in her gym t-shirt and neon Mickey Mouse pajama shorts she demonstrated the dance they were to perform.

She stepped around the Christmas decorations we are still putting away and began. “Heel, heel, toe, toe,” She placed one foot forward twice and then back to her side. “Leather,” she tapped her imaginary cowboy boot, “turn, step.” She lost her balance and began again. “Heel, heel, toe, toe, Leather, step, turn” wobble, wobble, “and then the Eclectic Slide.”

“The what?” I asked.

“The Electric Slide. But I can’t do it very well.” She stepped to her left, crossed over her front foot, clapped and repeated.

I grinned and continued to watch the dance. I guess I misheard her…

The Happiest Place on Earth

Since returning from vacation in November, we’ve had to remember that some things in the Rose City aren’t the same as they were in Disneyland (or Din-nee-nand as CrafterKat and I often call it).

1. Rockets don’t use the carpool lane.

2. Ask first before being photographed with a Sith Lord.
3. Buzz Lightyear will not ask for our assistance battling evil. I shouldn’t expect to see a score on my car dashboard when I get home from work.
4. I do not get to be chauffeured by Critter in the family car.
5. We will not be dining with royalty.
6. We can’t drive Mr. Toad’s car on the Sunset.
7. The Catapult of Doom should be used by only experienced Muppets.
8. Be careful of what you feed the Chipmunks.
9. Get a second opinion before having Minnie design your living room. Disney furniture isn’t as comfortable as it looks..
10. Watch where you walk. There may be a rhinoceros behind you.

Inside every turning leaf is the pattern of an older tree

Editor's Note: Origingally penned just after Christmas but our blog was not up and running at that time.


The day after Christmas reminded me again of how much I enjoy my family. It started with my Mom, the Social Butterfly, making banana pancakes and reminding us that we still had not completed the snow puzzle she had set up. I began packing up our gear only to be reminded that we still needed to get the new VCR/DVD hooked up for my mother.

I unboxed the contraption and gave the remote to my mother so she could put the batteries in. With my head stuck inside the media cupboard, my mother decided that now was a good time to ask all her VCR questions. “What do these numbers do?”

“I don’t know. I’m not to that part yet,” I called from inside the cabinet.

“What does Set Time mean?”

I craned my neck around some more. “I don’t know. I can’t see anything else.”

After a few more back contortions, I finally got the box set up and programmed in her soap opera. “Now, remember, you need to hit this button here and then the power button, to make sure the program is set. You’ll see a little clock just above the time.” Actually with my prescription and hers it looks like a square but I wasn’t going to go into semantics right now. She nodded and thankfully I didn’t have to go into the Power Off vs. Power On routine that has normally followed any programming done on the VCR.

Flashback 1980-something…
Me: So, Mom, to program your soaps you need to turn the Power on, go to the Program menu and plug in the date and time. When you’re done, press the Power button again to turn the machine off so it can begin taping.
Mom: Don’t you mean turn the Power button on? Because it needs to be On to start taping?
Me: The VCR already has the Power turned on. That’s how we set the date and time. Now we need to turn it off so it can start taping.
Mom: So I press the button to turn it on to start recording? I turn the Power on?
Me: *sighs heavily*

Repeat for each new VCR purchased thereafter.

We packed up the car with our Christmas goodies and suitcases and went to Mr. GoGoGo’s house to pick up leftovers. My father-in-law had BBQ’d a great turkey for dinner—he has since declared that it is time to get a new grill as this one finished the bird in two hours instead of four or five.

More food was crammed into available crannies, we reminded LaLa to see the doctor tomorrow (Avocado Pit=1, LaLa’s Finger=0), and Critter loaded up on leftover suckers which had been provided by the Gold Beach contingent. I tried not to think of the number of presents and linens that could be covered in a sticky goo in the back seat.

The Renaissance Man, CrafterKat's brother, returned from the store, his youngest son sporting a new purple lightsaber. Apparently older brothers can’t have purple ones—younger ones are supposed to have them, too. Our young Jedi showed a few moves and dropped the lightsaber. “Careful!” cried his mother, “I don’t want you breaking it already!”

He pointed to the handle. “Don’t worry, just this small bit broke off right here.”

“We just bought it five minutes ago!”

He chuckled as only a six-year old can. “Just kidding.”

After more hugs and goodbyes, we finally piled into the car and headed to Starbucks to get the driver fully caffeinated. Ten minutes later she came back with her pumpkin latte and my hot chocolate. “What took so long?” I asked.

“New guy running the cash register who didn’t know what buttons to push and a Barrista? Barristo? running the espresso machine on Eugene Time. Which is not as laid back as Hawaii time, but close.” I nodded and we merged onto the freeway.

Our return trip home was a delightful mélange of teenisms, wild animal sightings and snacking. I looked in the mirror and spied Critter slurping on a green sucker. “What flavor is it?”

“Sugar,” she answered.

Before we hit Brownsville we had spotted about ten hawks, each about 500 ft. apart spying the fields for rodents. Critter spotted three more, fourteen baby lambs and one golden styrofoam eagle.

“I have to get up to 16 hawks,” Critter said.

“Why…?”

“For when I become 16 because that’s when I’ll have my own car.”

We chuckled at her assumptions.

This is the same teenager who, with an older sibling/babysitter voice, advised Jedi Racoon, her six-year old cousin, to be sure and leave a note for Santa along with a plate of cookies. My nephew listened intently, the youngest and last True Believer in our family, and included a carrot for Santa’s reindeer beside his note.

When we got home to my mother’s Christmas night, Critter asked how Santa could get into houses without chimneys. Christmas morning we discovered a glass of milk and a note had been left for Santa in Critter’s seventh grade scrawl.

Introductions and Welcome

Welcome to our new blog. We, the Crafter and the Geek, hope to post family stories, news, and links to things we find interesting. Enjoy!