(WARNING! Holy crap, I crammed a lot into this RTT. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to come back a few times to finish this post considering I had to take a breather while editing it. It's like the worst criticism ever, me actually getting up WHILE READING MY OWN WORDS, because I wanted myself to get to the point already.)
(In my mind, that last thought completely worked.)
All these years!
All these years I was led to believe one thing and it ends up being something different.
For two and a half decades! I think I deserve an apology.
All the times I thought I was getting away with something when I would sing along to Lionel Ritchie's "You are the Sun, You are the Rain" and get to the climax where he wails out "Oh damn, baby!" And I would sing it loud and proud, my smile daring anyone over the age of knowing better to punish me for sticking to the lyrics. Feeling the power of cursing because I was SUPPOSED to do it. Lionel said so.
It quickly became my flagship song of the early 80's. Even in the nineties, I would turn the volume up when the song began on the radio and harmonize with Lionel, my accomplice in musical manslaughter.
Only to learn that he was actually singing "...again and again and AH-GAIN, baby!"
I feel betrayed. I also feel like a dolt since no one ever tried to correct me the many many times I commandered that tune in Karaoke.
I'm waiting for that apology, Mr. Ritchie.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
John had made plans with our friend Trevor to watch a live cage fight (I'm sure there's another name for it, something official that makes people respect the sport, really? sport?, but as soon as I hear the tiny detail of people beating the living snot out of each other until someone not only falls, but loses IQ points, I tune out.) on Saturday night, so it was Sprite and me and a movie for the evening. I had kept her good and up for the entire day with Story Time, errands, even a trip to the community pool -
-I am totally interrupting that thought with another one. Because I can. A pool outing costs $4 for one adult and one child. We went on the late side, arriving at the gates at 3:15, only to be warned by the attendant that the pool would be closing at 4. Sprite was so exited about the water, I conceded to the wallet and paid the full price for forty-five minutes of crawling along the wall since some big kids splashing in the immediate area kept her from dunking more than her legs. While I was trying to coerce her into the actual pool, I noticed the lifeguards banding together for a little pow-wow and pointing to an area on the far side of the pool. Finally one of them walked over to the manager, who was standing right in front of me and the wall-walking Sprite to tell him about the kid who yakked in the water and it was now spreading into the more populated areas. As I understood the comtamination was coming our way, I ended our very short swimming lesson and pulled Sprite from the water. Immediately after, the manager made the announcement and used the word "contamination", and the mass exodus from the pool began in earnest, reminding me of that infamous scene from Caddy Shack with the floating candy bar. They offered free passes to everyone since they didn't get the full experience, we basically got a free ride for Saturday, or whenever we go back for a much longer session, whichever way you want to look at it..-
and a movie complete with popcorn to dull her senses into sleepy submission so I could relax with my own movie later while I had the house to myself. Blue decided I should steam clean Sprite's room instead, since she picked that one room (thank goodness it was the only one) to spread the...um..cheer. Yes, I meant "spread". The eight-thirty bedtime flew past while I pulled out the Hoover, listening to Sprite admonish Blue in her best authoritarian voice, "Blue, bad dog! You poopy in my room! You should poopy on the potty! BAD DOG!" No, I did not get my movie. Yes, the dog got to live.
For now.
***********************************
Sorry, Tim Allen, you are now forever marked by your connection to Toy Story. Sprite overhead a pure Michigan commercial and immediately shouted, "Buzz Lightyear!" Now, whenever she hears it, she runs to whereever the tv is and demands to see Buzz.
***********************************
Lost is over. I have questions. The creators KNEW I would have questions... I hate that.
***********************************
Okay, I just read Entertainment Weekly's recap. I feel better about it all. JJ Abrams is back on my good side.
***********************************
So, yes, due to the wonderness and super-intelligence that was Lost, I had decided to take Monday off as a Mental Health Day, sleep in a little, re-charge my batteries, stroll through the blogosphere in the morning before the sun became too hot, I had a DAY planned and none of it involved responsibility.
4:30 AM, Monday morning, I smelled it before I opened my eyes.
Blue had done it again. Her frequent accidents throughout Sunday (on the plus side, our hallway, bedroom and Sprite's room TWICE are looking steam cleaned fresh!) and the increasingly metallic scent of blood was worrying us (us being John and me, Sprite took great pleasure in yelling at Blue for us) to the point that we were debating on whether or not to wait it out or bring her to the vet as soon as possible. Thanks to my bladder and turning on my bedside lamp to look upon the various landmines she had left in her wake, we decided to bring her before the medical people. AFTER we steamed our bedroom carpet one last time. (I still get a giggle picturing John pushing the Hoover, clad in only boxers. And not complaining. I love that man.)
We got a couple more hours of sleep before Sprite decided to begin her day, so suffice it to say, both John and I were running ragged. I offered to take Sprite to school since the center is right across the street from our vet. I thought I would just drop Blue off to get things started, run Sprite to her class, and get back for a diagnosis. Planning be damned! Instead, thanks to the symptoms I had described (stupid me and my need to be wordy) to the front desk nurse (she was wearing scrubs, so I'm guessing she was a nurse??), she requested I repeat those same descriptions to the attending nurse who wanted to see us in Exam Room #2 right away.
Okay, I thought it would be a few minutes as I rattled off the same speech again, only to be interrupted by her leaving the room every few minutes to relay my words to the doctor, who was still enjoying his morning latte. Finally, she came back, said she was leaving once more, and told me to wait for the doctor who would only be a minute at the most.
I need to revisit my definition of "minute".
FINALLY, the doctor came in, asked me for a replay one.more.time, and even interacted with an extremely impatient Sprite while I spoke. Point to the doctor for taking an interest in a child. Point against the doctor for taking a forty-five second spiel and stretching it to a ten spot for the many times I had to repeat myself.
When he began discussing the tests they would run to find out what was ailing our poor Blue, Sprite chose to insert a phrase into every pause he made. "Really, doctor? REALLY?" (I'm raising my hand on that one. Totally my fault. My snark too..)
The break I had been waiting for came as they trotted Blue off to "the back" to administer the tests. I quickly explained that I was going to take Sprite to school and then come back to collect the mutt, and Sprite realized she was losing her audience of admirers for she decided then and there that she could not leave Blue alone and started her own dramatic scene by burying her head into my shoulder with huge wracking sobs. I kid you not, as soon as we walked outside, she lifted her face and smiled, eyes completely dry.
And I kid you not, I called her on it. "Next time, try swooning."
When she learns what swooning is, I'll start saving money for drama classes.
(Blue should be fine by the way. Eighty bucks for confirming an upset stomach and a special diet of ground beef and rice for the next few days should have her right as rain. I just have every carpet blocked off for added insurance until we're sure the storms have passed.)
Oy, too much random for one day! I cannot go on! Hopefully, you heeded my Ides of May and fled to The Un Mom already, but seeing as I waited until the end to give you the hyperlink, I had you right where I wanted you..
