Archive for April, 2011

Pardon The Interruption….

April 19, 2011

Years ago, the children were ensconced at the table eating a snack-good time to head to the Head.  “Eat your snack. I’m going to take a shower, I’ll be out in 5 minutes. Do not disturb unless it’s an emergency.”  I ran into the bathroom, jumped in the shower,  and kicked it into gear to get my whole self clean in five minutes.  I was a pro from back in my boarding school days when five minutes was sometimes all the time we had, and then the hot water would run out. 

2 minutes in, the door bursts open.  “Mom is this purple?” It was Whirling Dervish holding up a skirt.

“REALLY?!  Did we forget that Mommy said “Do NOT disturb!”

“Uhhhhh.”

“Is someone concussed?”

“No.”

“Is someone bleeding? Does someone have a limb off?”

“No.  But Momma is this purple?”

“REALLY???!!! Please close the door on your way out.”

I guess I should be happy, she was outside the shower. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had gotten in there with me. Whirling liked to invade my personal space-a “close talker” a la Jerry Seinfeld.  Her usual M.O. was to wait until I was in the bathroom and then come in and step so close to me that she would be standing in my under garments. yes, IN, my underwear.  And it wasn’t as if she was coming to tell me the kitchen was on fire or anything.  She just wanted to chat.  Mind you she had absolutely NOTHING to say to me while I was not in the bathroom.  I guess her mind got rolling as soon as I sat down on the can.   I would have to politely ask her to back up out of my draws and out of the bathroom.  And off she would go, inevitably leaving the bathroom door wide open, leaving me fully exposed for all the world to see.  And she wasn’t the only one.  Her siblings were just as bad. I got asked all sorts of stuff in the water closet. Can I transform the Transformer back?  Momma, can you get the pony tail out of Barbie’s hair?  Mom, can you sign my permission slip?  Can you get this knot out of my sneaker? And so it went. For years.

My youngest is now 8, so I thought I was done with the interruptions.  They still do it from time to time, but for the most part, they stay out, at least until I turn the water off in the shower or flush the toilet to barge in. Some times tey wait until I have finished brushing my teeth to ask me a question or talk to me.  But no.  Now there’s a new interloper in our midst. Butter Face cometh.

My dog has become the Bathroom Bandit. It doesn’t matter what bathroom I’m in or what floor he’s on. He makes his  way to the bathroom heads on in.  He just opens the door all the way and waltzes right in.  He walks right up to me, looks up, as if to say, “Hey, whatcha doin’?” Then he sniffs my shoes, does his doggy circling ritual and then lays down on the rug. And stares.  I don’t know about y’all, but it’s hard to concentrate with the beast ogling me from below, peeping at me underneath my reading material.

I guess I should be thankful, he doesn’t ask me to deknot his bone.

Routines…..

April 8, 2011

Since I rise before the chickens to do the first round of waking the dead for school, I take Butter Face for his morning stroll through the ‘hood.  Ours is a tranquil little hamlet with great neighbors, who greet each other on the street, awesome families (Shout out to the Pool Ladies Book Club AKA The Mommy Mafia), and regular routines.  There’s the “Walker Lady” who speeds through the neighborhood hoofin’ it to the bus stop on the main road. And the “Beige Man.”  He walks his beige dog, in his beige coat and pants, wearing his brown hat and shoes. Everyday.  And so the routine went yesterday.  Or so I thought.

It was Thursday, Trash Day. It was recycle day as well. And so, Butter Face and I took our usual stroll, weaving through the forest of green cans and bins.  At least for half of us, who use the same trash company. Trash Day is blissfully routine in suburbia.

It was early; the sun wasn’t quite up. It was just casting a pink and orange glow through the trees.  I hadn’t had my coffee yet.  Thankfully,  the dog was on auto-pilot.  He knows the drill- up the street, take a left, walk up the block, make a left, up that street, another left, along one of the main roads, then take a right.  Ahhhh, routine. Go dog go.

We were halfway past the first left, when I saw this from a distance.…..

Here Kitty

 

Oh, look, a cat on the trash can.  I wonder if Butter Face sees him.  He’s not moving-wait!   That’s not a cat!  Is that a bobcat?! What the heck??!!! It’s a stuffed bobcat in a trashcan!

Mesmerized, I had to get a closer look, because really, it’s not every day you see a mounted bobcat on the curb. Right?

Ain't I purdy?

And so my mind went…

Eeeeew,  that thing’s been through the ringer. It’s got fur missing and looks all mangy.  Who HAS this in their house(Clearly, these are neighbors that I don’t know)! Oooh, I wonder if they shot it. And where.  Was it home stuffed or professionally done?  I hope they didn’t stuff it lookin’ like that because that was a waste of money. 

This is way too much to process this early in the morning without coffee.  But I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

 Butter Face, on the other hand, was FREAKED!  He was yankin’ at his leash, he couldn’t get away fast enough.  He would have dug to China through the sidewalk if I had stood there too much longer.

Then my mind went to what the conversation was when contemplating throwing this little gem into the trash….

“Hattie!  You seen my bobcat?  It was right here…. HATTIE!  Woman, where’s m’ bobcat??!!.”

“Willard, it was time. That ol’ ratty thing had to go, sitting in here collecting dust and such. I put him out in the trash this morning.”

“You did what, woman? That was my daddy’s bobcat!”

“You’re absolutely right, Willard.  So, I sent it to be with your daddy.  May they both rest in peace.”

Boy, I really did need coffee.

And Butter Face needed a tranquilizer.

-Routinous Interruptus at the Edge


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