Haha, I really don't know what to say. I said I would write. But I didn't. I probably would be wise to not mention it and therefore, not draw attention to the date, but there's really no hiding it. I officially stink at this blogging thing.
So anyway, I was thinking about a couple stories I gathered in the past weeks, and surprisingly there really weren't any good ones from the holidays. Sure we had fun, ate too much, and spent way too many nights up and doing things that weren't really that important. (Like that dumb dollhouse, I swear, Emma didn't even notice it was painted on the outside...)
Besides the normal holiday things, there really wasn't anything outstandingly funny.
So instead I'm going to write about what happened after Christmas and New Year's.
Nearly my entire family had gotten together to go to lunch, the exception being my brother, and we were on our way there, all crammed into the old suburban.
Now, the squirrels in my neighborhood, and I believe everywhere, always seen to think that the opportune time to cross the street is right when you happen to be passing by.
So as we were driving, we saw one of those same suicidal squirrels, darting back and forth in the street in front of us. My mom is no squirrel killer, but my dad might as well have been at that moment. That darn squirrel wouldn't make up its mind, even after he'd slowed almost to a stop in front of it as it continued to have spasms and dart back and forth, as if it's memory was so short it couldn't even remember which direction it had originally been running. Finally, my father, loosing all patience for that pathetic excuse for an animal, starts yelling, "Commit! Commit!" So loud that I was sure the neighbors could have heard.
The squirrel finally did choose a side, but not after we'd all nearly peed our pants laughing.
It was actually this same experience that influenced my decision to write about this next story.
I've mentioned the horseplace a couple times in my entries and now, I'm going to mention one person in particular. River.
Now this seven year old is beyond having an attention disorder. He's down right atrocious. However, his total inability to focus only makes you fall in love with him more. That is, up until the point where he leaves your protective side and darts around the legs of a thousand pound animal that could kill him with one kick. Than you want to kill him yourself.
See, River is the kind of kid that has to have it happen to him, before he knows something is bad. Like, for instance, getting stepped on by a horse. My boss and I had told him only a million times that putting your feet underneath the horse not only results in extreme pain, but the likely possiblity that all five of your toes could be ground into beef they use to make hamburgers. But of course, this being River, he had to test what we told him and one day, as we were leading his faithful old horse Blaze, to the ramp, he decided it was the opportune time.
"What happens-" He began, as he jutted his foot out and underneath the horse. "If you stick your foot here?"
Immediately Blaze stepped down right on top of him and it was only our quick thinking that kept him from losing all his toes that day. I laughed, and my boss simply said, "That happens."
Honestly though, I have never met a kid who spouts so much nonsense, while somehow finding the ability to ignore every single thing you say to him.
One time, as we were trying to ask him to turn his horse to the right, he interrupted saying, "Who babysits the sun?"
Julie (my boss) and I just looked at one another.
"Oh right," River finishes. "The moon does."
Then the same day as we passed his mother, sitting on a picnic bench, reading a book, and waiting for us, he suddenly blurts out, "Melissa!"
Looking up alarmed, his mom asks, "Did he just call me by my first name?"
Julie nodded and we both just shrugged. At this point, we were beyond wondering what River was thinking.
And it was then, that I couldn't help but think, as River's mind jumped from one thing to another-"Can we pet the rabbit? What's that? Blue is my favorite color. Why? Why do we have to do that?"- That he was a little bit like that squirrel, that couldn't make up its mind about crossing the street. Even his bulging brown eyes reminded me of a squirrels at that moment. I laughed and just pictured in my mind my father screaming at River, "Commit! Commit!"
There were two fabulous quotes by people these past two weeks. I couldn't decided between the two (as always) so I threw them both in just for the heck of it.
When talking about the land owner who had made our lives more troublesome than I thought humanely possible, my friend Tracy said, "I know she's not evil, but I'm pretty sure there's a little spot in Hell for her..." It made my day, year, entire career working there.
And my brother, when talking about the prospect of getting a turtle: "I'm going to go to the turtle pound."
If there was such a place, I'd love to see it. Maybe while they're at it, they should make a rehabilitation facility for those suicidal squirrels...
