I like Junior – he’s a funny kid. I don’t know what I’d do if I was stuck with a kid who didn’t have a good sense of humor. And by good, I mean one that amuses me, personally.
This may not translate as well as I’d like, because it was part of a larger conversation, and you have to know about the kinds of snacks that parents buy for their kids these days. If you are unfamiliar with the concept of Fruit Roll-ups or Froot-by-the-Foot this is going to whoosh past you, granny.
I admitted publicly that I like pudding skin. Mr. Dump started to propose a method of exposing as many sides of the pudding as possible so that you could get a LOT of pudding skin out of one cup of pudding. And then Junior suggested Pudding Skin by the Foot. Well, that did it for me. The concept of a long strip of pudding skin that you unfold to eat brought me to tears.
But looking back, I don’t think I’d buy it. Because part of the beauty of the whole fruit roll-up product is that it doesn’t require refrigeration. If you leave pudding skin out, you’ll really have pudding jerky, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
I have a headache right now, and it won’t go away. I don’t believe it’s anything that will kill me, so that’s good. I don’t have time to die right now. I have lots of things to do and to see. One of the the things I need to see is the office in my rear view mirror. [ba-dum-bum]
I put seventy dollars worth of gas in my car today. And I am actually nervous about it lasting until next week. This weekend we will be keeping any and all road trips to a minimum, I can tell you that. It had literally been years since I’ve had to worry about buying gas. I don’t like to have to worry about it. I can definitely see the appeal of buying one of those very fuel-efficient little micro machines – at one point in time my 22mpg sounded pretty decent to me, for a mini van, but now I want at least twice that. But I’m not in a position to buy a car right at the moment, not when mine is running well, etc. etc.
Sorry, I shouldn’t bitch. There are people dying in cyclones, earthquakes, crane collapses, train accidents and the like. That would be worse than paying $4 a gallon for gas.
We’re all pretty resigned to the fact that she’s gone, even though Beth mentioned below that she found a hamster a week after it was lost. I’ve received offline feedback that once they get out, you don’t find them until you tear down walls to remodel the bathroom. I have decided to not mention this tidbit to Junior, as he’s still sad about the whole thing. That reminds me, note to self: don’t leave a photo of Izzy up on your computer screen if your son walks up behind you and notices it.
Junior has decided that he would like to replace Izzy with gerbils. From everything I’ve read, they are an excellent choice, don’t need to be cleaned as often (Izzy was a poop and pee machine, I tell you. But she always peed in the same place. We referred to that corner as “the bathroom”.) and they aren’t nocturnal. SOLD. Junior needs pets he can interact with while he’s awake, and I need pets that won’t run on a wheel all night long. Good Lord, her fat ass would make the wheel thump on the floor of the tank and there were many nights someone would have to get up and just pull the damned thing out of the tank.
But she was cute, so that made up for it.
But Beth, based on your comment, we’ll be going through the hamper in great detail this evening.
Remember a few months ago when those criminals escaped from jail after digging an escape route in the cell and covering up the hole with a racy pinup photos? Well little did we know that Miss Izzy would take her cue from New Jersey fugitives and make a run for it this weekend.
I can only blame myself for her escape – we tried out a new wheel (in our endless effort to get a quiet one) and I think it was stable enough for her to get on top of it because of all the bedding underneath making the wheel hard to spin. In the morning Mr. Dump and I were congratulating each other on finding a wheel that did not squeak all night. That’s when I noticed that her house, which usually has the door blocked with bedding, was free and clear. The equivalent of an unmade bed. And I could see inside but I couldn’t see Izzy. And I started to panic.
Izzy left at some point during the night, and sadly, despite spending literally ALL DAY Memorial Day looking for her, calling her name and putting out her favorite treats, we pretty much have to assume she’s not going to be coming back. The dog never found a trace of her (i.e. never acted like he smelled anything hamster-related). There were no tell-tale turdlets anywhere to be found. The weather was pretty darned warm the past two days, and without a steady water supply, I’m feeling like she signed her own fate when she leaped from the tank.
So, goodbye Izzy. I feel really horrible about losing you, even though I did nothing to encourage it, nor did I want you to break Junior’s heart that way. Junior, by the way, still holds out hope that we may find Izzy. Mr. Dump suggested the time-honored tradition of replacing the pet with an exact replica, but I’d rather Junior face the fact that Izzy is gone, and decide for himself if he wants to get another hamster, or perhaps go with something less nocturnal this time around. It’s not like I don’t have all the toys, a brand new bag of bedding, brand new wheel, and brand new bag of food available.
I can tell you that we will re-visit the whole top of the tank security measures.
Junior [okay, really, me] is responsible for selling a box of candy bars for Little League. So I brought the box into work, because really, how many candy bars have I bought over the years?
Every day I put a new sign on the box, showing off my mad sales skillz. For two days I touted them has “health bars” [mental health, silly!] and Jon Lester’s Secret Weapon. Today, I posted the following sign. I’ll let you know which was the most effective.