Friday, January 30, 2009

Cosmic Chaos

Did you ever have one of those chaotic-somersault moments, where afterwards you can almost picture some immature, hell-raising, cosmic-manipulating, heavenly reject just laughing his *ss off from up above? Or down below?

C’mon…you have to know what I’m talking about….there’s no freakin’ way this just happens to me. Or us. Or here.

Da boys and I all arrived home within five minutes of each other. I’m walking into the kitchen, trying not to do a slip and slide from the residual ice on my shoes…dodging frenetic-prancing-puppy, balancing 2 bags of groceries, my bag, my seltzer and my cell, which was wedged in the crook of my neck…as I tried unsuccessfully to explain to my co-worker that sending the same, exact request to me 4 or 5 times in succession will not make me get to it any faster.

Ending the call, I greet da boys and ask them (what I believe is the obvious) to help unload the rest of the car. As Connor glances out the kitchen window, he suddenly yells “Oh, crap! MOM! Where’s the camera?” And he bolts down the hall.

He snaps this pic first:


and I’m thinking, “Huh.What kind of bird is THAT?” Turns out, it’s some kind of Bluebird…evidently the New York State bird (if anyone cares)…although, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one before:

Cute, right? (It's the little things...you know what I'm talkin' about.) Unfortunately, Connor opened the glass/screen door to get this shot, and Metro bolted out (not unlike a shot)…’cause he’s a Spaniel, don’tyaknow…and they do love them birds.

So, it was bye-bye-birdie….we may never see the likes of ‘em again. When I finally got Metro back inside, he walked into the kitchen and his two front paws collapsed in front of him. It would have been hilarious, had we not been thinking he’d just stroked out or something. Closer examination of his paws revealed the issue: he was wearing a half-inch of ice that had stuck perfectly to his paws. I had to run them under warm water to get ‘em to dislodge.

Connor picked this moment to take a big ‘ole swig of OJ from one of the three gallon-size Florida’s Natural I’d pick up at the market. Evidently, this is a BAD BATCH (“Best if used by April 3, 2009”…buyer beware) and instead of instinctively spitting it out in the kitchen sink, he just let loose right there in the middle of the kitchen…all over the floor, the counter…and the dog.

As if Metro hadn’t been through enough.

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