|
Homeward GINGIEEEEE! Loch = The Troll My Brother Nate Chibba Language Various & Sordid |
 
Disclaimer: Since this is meant to be a personal journal of our days, some information may crop up from time to time about certain persons outside of the immediate family. I will only post information that I deem to be public knowledge...stuff that's "out there". I am also very likely to post opinions...maybe this is a little inflamatory to some. Count yourself forewarned. Don't email me all ticked off, OK? I was so happy to see that most everyone in the family decided to come to the party,
and everyone was really well behaved. Even Loch. We had a shrimp boil outside, and the weather was really nice, if but a little blowy.
As the meal progressed, I noticed that the women were getting second and third helpings
of dessert, and the men-folk had congregated around the dead-crustacean-thingy table.
Loch didn't eat much, but Janelle tried to stuff him full of sugary fluff nonetheless. Then
she got ill at me when I told her (repeatedly) to stop. She seems to think it is her right
to give my child diabetes. (I still love you, Janelle!) After lunch, granny made a wish over her birthday brownies for us all to be there
just the same next year. The candles had to be lit over and over because the wing kept
blowing them out. Then they had to be lit again so that the little kids could try to
blow them out. Loch just said, "ouchie" because he understands that candles are hot. Later we went down to my cousin Stephanie's house to see the puppies. I now truly know
that my child is morbidly afraid of dogs. Real dogs. The puppies he could handle, because they are
only three weeks old and don't move around. The dogs mortified him. I wish I had a picture of that child
trying desperately to rid himself of those dogs, who only wanted to be friends. And the more he
tried to get away, the more they liked him. By the time we got ready to leave, though, he did very tentatively pat one on her belly, only after
Jeremy held her down. Granny gave me some poppies and petunias which I planted in the yard on Sunday. Mom gave me some paperwhites, and those were planted as well. Barry dug me a small flower bed
in the back yard. Now we wait to see if any of the seeds come up. Next on the agenda is the vegetable garden... Today will also be remembered as the day that I put in my resignation at GLOBIS. I was really surprised at the reaction that I got, and at the maturity level in which it was handled. No whining. No real guilt. Maybe some imagined guilt, but that's my problem. I told Silvia that it was just time for a change and a bit of a raise, and I really needed to do what was best for my family. And she completely knows what I mean. I said that I never was the type to get emotionally attached to a job, only to the people I grew to admire and enjoy. I swear my eyes watered up so I changed the subject and started talking about the requirements and atmosphere of the new job. I said I would come visit since I was going to be working three blocks away. So here I am, feeling a bit of a lump in my throat. Maybe I just need to hack a little, like my granny, to clear it. But have I earned the right? Thankfully, I see no boobs, and only a little barf. The trip itself is really a lot of fun. We arrive in Savannah about 5:30, and get a good parking spot a couple of blocks from the stage. Of course I want to follow the directions that we had been given, but Barry gets ticked off and parks on the street. We actually arrive before the crowds start flooding in, so that is good. Trent and Rhonda (the bassist & his wife) had reserved a table in a restaurant. We get a great seat on the balcony, overlooking the stage and street. The food isn't that great, but Barry and Trent must think the beers are pretty good. Later, we hang out backstage in the "VIP" area (which is an *ahem* secured area), and Barry and Trent proceed to sample the free beer there. Anj is doing OK, and is his witty self. Dodd Farrell is on before them and he does an excellent cover of a Waterboys song. As tradition states, Barry and I take a picture of ourselves. Like a dummy, I take all the exposures save one *before* the show starts. I've got connections, though, so I'm going to get some pictures. It's a good thing that I brought those baby wipes, because there is NO toilet paper in any of the 2,000 jiffy johnnies that they have out there. The one I am in is *shaking*. Barry says, what took you so long? I inform him that I am trying to remain standing and keep all of my possessions from touching nastiness. Back at the stage, Rhonda starts to get a little wound up just before the guys are to go on, because some bagpipers come running through, and the crowd goes running off after them. I just said, they'll come back. (And they do.) Trent prepares for the show by getting out his vibrating toothbrush and having a little toothgasm. At 10:15, they go on, and I realize that all those people aren't just standing around, but have actually come to hear them play. They are all singing along. Only a few scream, "Freebird!" The band starts with "California" and "Open Your Eyes" and goes through all the favorites. Somewhere in there, they play a "Rough Night in Jericho"/"Jumping Jack Flash" combo, which is neato. I can tell that Barry is having a great time, and I think that a big part of that is Anj. They were only contracted to play about an hour, but end up playing about an hour and a half. They close with an encore of three songs, including "Ticket to Ride" and "Melanie". Barry had begged me earlier to stay in the "secured" area of the stage while they were on, regardless of what Rhonda said or wanted me to do. Barry and I were both concerned about the rowdiness of it all, but it seemed really tame. So I go out. And immediately get hit on. A few times. Barry is looking mighty distracted up there on stage. I'm all shocked and don't know how to react, and so I stutter, "uhhh. uhh." Rhonda is the cool cookie and says, "we're married, boys. Buh bye." After the show, the secured area suddenly becomes very unsecure, and all the fans looking for cds begin to drift backstage. Everyone compliments them on the show, and we inform them that the cds can be found (for a pretty penny) on Ebay. There is mention of the guys playing Midtown Music if they're asked. Barry must have had a good time, because he hangs out after the show a bit longer than usual. We are whooped, and Barry is toasty, so I drive about an hour out of town to Metter, and get an extremely overpriced hotel room there. Commercialism sucks. We come dragging back into Athens at about 3:00 Saturday afternoon. Just in time to see Loch wake up from his nap. *yeah* Janelle is snoozing as well. Loch is really pissy when he wakes up. He tells me "NO" and hits me a few times. Barry falls asleep on the couch. I wash clothes. Ah, back at the Marler Household! There we were, at the beginning of our friday-night pizza ritual. He says something about just not feeling right. Now he says he never again wants pizza. The next morning, he didn't get our of bed... except to make a run to the bathroom. Mom comes over on Saturday, and I am in a fine mood because Loch is driving me nuts. He's saying "mama mama" and scratching on the door to the bedroom like a lost cat. He wants his "mama", who is not me but my husband who lies in bed, suffering mightily. Mom and I took Loch out to the mall for a while to get out. Loch refuses to take a nap, and I feel like I really need one. Barry is still in bed, but feeling better by the time we get back. Saturday evening, we're watching TV, and he says emphatically that he just can't stand to watch "The Operation" at that time because he is just too queasy. Then he settles down to watch "Alien". Go figure. Sunday we waltz into Publix, and I am looking particularly zombiefied. Sunday afternoon (ahhhh) I nap. I seem to constantly measure my self-worth by how much work I am getting done. And I often feel guilty if something doesn't get done. (This would be a nasty trait that was ingrained in my psyche by my overbearing father, FYI.) So this weekend would make an interesting study in that nasty habit. I managed to get some stuff done that I'd been putting off for a long time, yet other more pressing things did not get done. Example: I planted irises and lilies outside yesterday afternoon, yet there remain three large mountains of clean, unfolded laundry in three different rooms of the house. I guess I still suck by my own standards. Barry decided Loch needed a haircut, so pulled out the clippers and buzzed him behind the ear. My poor child, bald behind the ear. Barry said, "Maybe you should do it." I ended up having to give Loch marshmallows in order to have him hold still long enough for me to fix it. Friday afternoon, I took some "personal" time, as I am prone to do every so often. I have slowly been painting a mural on a wall of Loch's room. I dragged the stereo to Loch's room and sang/painted for three hours. Friday's endeavor brought a bank upon a shore, some rippling waves, and a doggie riding in a sailboat. That was some good, fun, quality personal time. Painting is therapeutic for me. I will do it before any of my other "hobbies". Yesterday presented not such quality time for Barry. Allow me to introduce the setup for the DEMONIC DISPOSAL DEBAUCLE: I had opened the windows throughout the house in order to allow some fresh air in. I also had a potted aloe on the kitchen windowsill. Evening came, and Barry decided to close the kitchen window. He closed it without removing the aloe. Which caught on the sill. Which then dumped into the sink. Which then sent dirt and rocks down the drain. Which then into the disposal. Which then had to be taken apart in order to remove the dirt and rocks. Which lived in the house that the Marlers bought. After much gnashing of teeth and muttering of words, Barry figures out how to take it apart, and is fiddling with it. Loch is eating marshmallows, and getting sticky yuck all over the place. I go to get a cloth to wipe his hands. Like your typical Lucy Ricardo, I run water into the sink, spilling it all on Barry, who is hanging out under the sink, trying to subconsciously lower his skyrocketing blood pressure. It gets worse. Having taken the frickin thing apart, Barry realizes that it is nasty. Horror-movie nasty. There is something stringy and grey wrapped up all inside the damnable thing, which could account for its noisy countenance and questionable smell. Barry is in a fine mood. Loch is yelping. I am feeling guilty because I put the aloe on the windowsill in the first place. After cleaning the disposal out with bleach, Barry puts the whole thing back together, and hooks it back up to the drain, the pipework, and the dishwasher. It begins to leak in two of the three places. He decided that this called for a trip to Home Depot to retrieve a new rubber-pipe-hookup-thingy. Loch and I cozied up on the couch to wait. We ate rice krispie treats and watched "Stevie Nicks: Behind the Music". Rock on, gold dust woman. Barry gets back and finds that out of the two rubber-pipe-hookup-thingies that he has bought, neither fits. Back to Hell Depot. Loch is in bed by the time Barry gets back. Barry puts the disposal back together, and it purrs. The pipes don't leak. The dishwasher, however, is back to its old tricks. (That, however, is a whole new story...) We eat cheese, crackers and turkeyroni slices for dinner. Ah, the Marler Household! |
