Kaleidoscopic Eclat

I’ve watched over the last year as Love Thursday’s spread about the internet and several of my favorites participated, and then without realizing it, they disappeared. They are back again, and all the syrupy sweetness so think you must brush your teeth for fear of Internet Inspired Cavities once more cavorts about the webspaces of folks I read often. I’ve never participated before, because I’m not one for the mush. Sure, I’ve a closet full of romance novels that might say different, but really, I’m just not an overly mushy lovey dovey type of girl.

[Stop laughing, you.
Right this minute.
Don't make me get out the paddle...]

Ahem. Anyway.

As I was laying in bed last night, trying to get my mind to Just. Shut. Up. Already! so that I could sleep, somehow the fact that it was already Thursday occurred to my tired brain, and for some unknown reason that translated to “Hey, it’s Love Thursday. I should write something!” just before my eyes finally closed. I even had half written in my head within a couple sleepy breaths. Thus, I give you this wordy snapshot:

My parents are unique individuals, and as different as night and day. I’m one of the lucky ones, who’s folks are still married after almost 39 years now. There are so opposite at times in demeanor and thought, that it’s almost boggling to think they haven’t killed each other yet. Dad is easy, outgoing, and will talk to ANYONE - especially female. Mom, while friendly and outgoing herself, isn’t one to stop a complete stranger in the store and talk like they’re long lost friends like Dad does - she must trust you completely to give away the intimate details of her thoughts. Dad shares everything with anyone who is interested. They don’t always see eye to eye, and sometimes it seems like they NEVER see eye to eye, but somehow, someway, they manage to co-exist and live in the same house, on the same street, as they have since we moved up here to Alaska back in 1978.

After all these years of marriage, they are comfortable with one another for the most part. They’ve moved past the ‘OMG I CAN’T KEEP MY HANDS OFF YOU’ making out on the couch - or, god forbid, in PUBLIC - newlywed stage, and settled into the ‘This is MY chair, and hello, get your own blanket for the bed bucko, this one’s MINE’ stage. And that’s where my snapshot actually truly begins.

It was the second day in the hospital for mom. I’d arrived and set up Scooter to charge and check emails, and generally just allow me to be there for mom, without intruding. There was laughter with the Nurse We Loved, and snarky comments, and a general sense of health and happiness and well being in the room. Dad knew I hadn’t eaten yet, and so was urging me to head down to the cafeteria with him, because he needed to eat too. We let mom know, just as she started to drift asleep again. All that laying around wired up to machines had exhausted her, you see. (grin)

As I was slipping my shoes back on, I looked up to see Mom sleeping, mouth agape and eyes closed, as Dad stood nearby and just watched her. He then reached out with his hand - hands I remember soothing my own brow as I wasn’t feeling well and drifted to sleep - and brushed her hair back from her forehead, his fingers smoothing the line in her brow with a touch. You could see that the touch, as simple as it was, soothed and sent her deeper into sleep, instantly. I wanted a camera in that moment, but knew if even if I had an actual photograph, it would never convey the sense of wonderment. It was a perfect moment, the perfect picture of a love that transcends all their differences, that doesn’t need overt demonstrations, that doesn’t need over the top wild monkey sex performed in front of open windows every Tuesday**.

It simply is.
And it was perfect.

Happy Love Thursday, everyone!

[**Not that, you know, there's anything wrong with wild monkey sex or anything. Just not with my parents involved - please! As my kids would say... "bad picture! BAD PICTURE!"]

My son has friends.
Friends who DRIVE.
Friends who drive CARS.
Friends who drive CARS that were parked in my driveway that I had to call the house and say “get the hell outa my parking spot, boyo!” so that I could pull into my driveway.

Boys.
That Drive.

A boy who when they asked if they could walk into Holiday I said with a straight face “Why don’t you drive?”

*blinks*
I am not OLD enough for this shit!

So today, I am the cool mom. I can tell this because the Boy has a friend over (the afore mentioned driver of the El Camino in my driveway), and the Girl has THREE friends over, and also I have Buglet too. I went and got junk food to feed them with, thus cementing my “cool mom” status.

I am, however, VERY lucky and grateful because my kids have GREAT friends. The core group of buddies they’ve chosen are all really good kids, and I don’t mind having them hanging around at all.

Even if they’re old enough to drive.
El Caminos.
And park them in my driveway.
Which only reminds me that MY son will be 16 in a few weeks.

*groans*

We’ve decided that Deogi is smart. But… he’s book smart, not street smart. We’ve come to this astounding conclusion because he loves to do tricks. Sit, stay (…sometimes - he gets excited!), hide and seek, up, down, catch it, so on and so forth. He will preform, as long as you have a ‘cookie’. He’s generally a good dog.

But at the normal everyday things? The dog is as dumb as a rock. Case in point, and given to you in steps.

Step one: Dog discovers a love of chewing in puppyhood and goes after it like a junkie begs for crack. Everything. Plastic, stuffed animals, bones, cats, whatever. chew chew chew gnaw gnaw gnaw.

Step two: Dog finds plastic hanger on the children’s floor. Plastic = yummy! Chew Chew Chew Gnaw Gnaw Gnaw.

Step three: Dog comes to the front room, digging like CRAZY at his mouth. He can breathe, but he’s hacking and digging and freaking the fuck out.

Step four: Blood. There’s blood from his mouth. Situation classified as NOT GOOD and CALL AUNT LADYBUG NOW for help, because the kids are freaked out and can’t calm down enough to help me hold said stupid dog, and get a closer look at what the hell is going on.

Step five: get a look at a length of white plastic, stuck crosswise in his throat, just behind his jaw.

Step six: Enter Auntie Ladybug, and commence dog wrestling 101 to get him to calm down so we can hold him still.

Step seven: Get clawed to fuck by the dew claws and nails of a scrabbling dog who wants UP RIGHT NOW LET ME UP OMG WHAT IS IN MAH THROAT GET IT OUT BUT DON’T TOUCH ME!

Step eight: Tackle dog, pry open jaw, Auntie Ladybug grabs the length of plastic and gets it free from the throat.

Step nine: Try to catch breath, and assure Stupid Fucking Dog he’s a good puppy, good dog, commere, who’s a good boy, that’s right you stupid fucking mutt, you’re a good boy.

Step ten: Catch breath. Examine plastic object. Send children to make sure there are no more hangers on the floor.

Step eleven: Thank Auntie Ladybug, and let her go home again.

Step twelve: Smack self on forehead because DAMMIT an EXCELLENT BLOGGER would have gotten the pictures DURING the chaos. Instead, you get the aftermath. The offending piece of plastic, and the damage done to my arm. Too bad you can’t hear the wheezing of the asthma attack too. That’s SUPER sexy.

Everyone’s fine, the kids have calmed down, the dog is fine and eating and drinking and seems no worse for wear. He’s just… book smart. Not street smart. Obviously.

Sigh.

Update: The Morning After

Look! Two more bruises! And the original ones? TWICE AS PRETTY.

Nice, huh?

Hi there! Long time no see. It’s like I forgot this page existed there for a few days, huh? Maybe that’s because I’ve been playing over here, and gearing up for a very busy February here and here! Or maybe it’s because I also have this here, and also - because I just don’t have enough to keep up with, I got a wild hair and have this HERE too! Add to that a returning client wanting a redo, a Comment Party over at Darkside Rainbow, (which Nana WON btw with a comment about BACON CEREAL which is 18 different kinds of brilliant - and so did I, I got one of the runner up prizes myself!) that took up some of my weekend, and then all the snow up there that is trying to freeze me out, and the uber cuteness of my kids at times and the 99% rottenness that is masquarading as that cuteness and…

Well. You can SEE why I haven’t been typing much around here, right? Right.

So, you ask, how’s the whole ‘Better Lessa Through Apathy” thing going? Eh. Allright. Week one, and I weathered the Caffeine withdrawal headache and now hardly ever think of my beloved diet crack coke (twitch). Week two and I started keeping track of what I was eating, just to see where I fell on the ‘eat this much to LIVE ya fool’ scale of things. Surprisingly, given the size of my ass, I’m having a horrendous time eating ENOUGH calories on a daily basis. I know! Whod’a thunk it?

So this is week three, and I had something planned for this week too, but ugh. I r sick. And I feel like crap. And I just wanna lay down under my blanket and forget the world exists until I feel better. So, it’s week two, redux, and another attempt to eat ENOUGH and rev up a sleepy metabolism. We’ll see how I’m feeling after that.

Course, I’m also peeing every 2.5 seconds, because of all the water I’m drinking to make up for the lack of my beloved DC…. makes sleeping a pain too. Heh.

And that’s all there is going on in LessaLand at the moment. How bout ya’ll?

SERIOUSLY? How could you not love pieces of your childhood revived… and every bit as campy and hysterical as ever!

(Sorry, TBF - I resisted as long as I could! HAHAHHAHAHAHA!)