Has it really been almost a month since I posted?? I have been too busy on the ever-lovin’ wifey’s internet presence and have let my own go a bit. I am truly sorry about that to you whom look to the Maru as a constant (or at least consistent) source of…source of…ummm…whatever need it is you have that somehow goes unmet in any other place in your life. I can only imagine how difficult these last few weeks have been on you. Seriously, I can only imagine because I wouldn’t actually know in a personal way. But I am here to empathize with you. I feel your pain. Let’s move on.
So Ferf broke her foot this weekend. Yep. Broke her right foot - and know I don’t mean she broke it off in my arse. I mean she broke a bone in it. Fracture of the fifth proximal metatarsal.
So now she has a big black air cast boot on her foot. Very sexy. She wears it well - makes it look good.
But how did she break it you ask. I’m glad you asked. She tripped over thin air whilst walking across the bedroom floor. She swears that she tripped over my house shoes, but I think that’s bunk. My house shoes are not something easily tripped over. They are size 12 after all. How on earth does someone overlook a freaking foot-yacht parked in the middle of the floor? If it were me, I would rather have people believe that I tripped over thin air. But she stands by her story…well, sits by it really. She doesn’t stand so much right now. heehee.
She did it right as I was leaving for the weekend. Friday morning and it is literally 10 minutes before my ride was coming and she takes the dive upstairs and I run up to find her doing a full frontal face plant on our bedroom floor - her head landed 4 inches from the door jam. The good news is that she didn’t brain herself as well. But we got her up and down stairs and her foot elevated and iced. It was already swelling by that time and she couldn’t put weight on it. So she asked me if I could go to the store and get her some crutches before I left. Dutifully I checked on line and made some calls to drug stores and such. No luck. No crutches to be had. I had the dubious honor of letting her know that there would be no crutch based assistance coming. I offered to cancel my trip, but she wanted me to go. When my ride showed up I took my bags out to his car and when he opened his trunk, there was a set of crutches. I asked him if he were planning to get injured to which he responded that they were a set he used after ankle surgery and he was taking them to the Salvation Army. I laughed and took them into the house for Ferf. She used them all weekend and waited until Monday to even go see a doctor. Ahh my wifey. She’s a keeper!
Evidently the Muppet was quite the trooper this weekend. She took care of everything that Ferf needed. She carried food and dishes to Ferf, she brought her drinks and kept the house “tidy”. She did her chores and never once complained. She was awesome. In fact, she tried to do everything. She tried to not only bring Ferf a bottle of extra strength Advil liquid gels, she tried to open them and give her some of them. Unfortunately she was foiled by the child proof lid.
She tried and tried to get the bottle open, but to no avail. Frustrated she handed the bottle to Ferf and told her that she could not get it open. Ferf smiled and told her that it had a safety feature - a child proof lid. The Muppet thought about that for a moment and said “it’s child proof?”
Ferf said, “yes honey…it’s child proof.” Again, the Muppet thought about that and finally said with a deeply sincere look on her face,
“But HOW does it know that I am a child???”
Later I told the Muppet that it is magic, like a thermos. It keeps hot things hot and cold things cold, but nobody knows how it can tell the difference.
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So the Muppet is a huge fan of music. It probably started when she was in the womb and her Aunty Merf would put headphones on Ferf’s belly and play her favorites. Hundreds of hours of bands who graced the cover of classic Rolling Stones Magazine covers. And then, we would all get up for middle of the night feedings and dance back to sleep with the dulcet tones of Marvin Gaye and James Taylor. However it happened, she LOVES music. And she has very specific tastes. I remember when she was like 6 weeks old, she would often ask us to change the radio station if she did not like the music…or maybe she had pooped herself…either way, I usually changed the station (while Ferf changed her - we all had our assigned duties).
But when the Muppet was old enough to talk - so like 12 months old - What? She was extremely bright, and every time I have told this story she gets younger. I realize this, but it is my story so back off. Where was I, oh right, the Muppet was about 8 months old and she would ask for a specific song to be played over and over and over. (Ok, so maybe she was almost 2 years…whatever, it is barely relevant to the story.) It was Toby Keith’s Whiskey for my Men and Beer for my Horses. I know right, who teaches there two year olds that kind of music, but it was usually on the way to church, so that’s when we listen to worship music…
Anyway, she would be sitting in her astronaut-like 5 point harness baby seat in the back and she would simply say, “More Toby please.” If we dared to play a different Toby Keith song, she would become indignant and chant over and over, “NO NO NO…MORE TOBY PLEASE!!!” Until we played it again. Lucky for me, I like the song. Still do surprisingly enough.
Whatever, my point is that her love of music started early. So I was not too surprised when I was listening to music on the computer (that was TOTALLY LEGALLY DOWNLOADED I might add in case anyone is reading this…are you a cop?? Sorry, I ask that of everyone on advice of my attorney, don’t take it personally. Besides, you aren’t a cop are you?” Anyway, I was listening to some music that was suggested to me by my personal music sommelier Mr. Seth - who is a surprisingly astute judge of music for an Orthodox. What? How is that offensive?? It’s legitimate. How many Orthodox do you know that suggest really good music - especially underground style musicians that you have never really heard of? Does this look like an icon you’d find on your ipod:
But I digress, I simply want to give credit where due to the guy who hooks me up with new music - usually every Friday, though he has been slacking in that department for a while now, but this is not the place to publicly call him out for not living up to his job description…that would be really awkward to do to someone - especially a friend.
Anyway, so one day I was working on the computer - probably entertaining my Maru passengers if I am being honest - and listening to said totally legally downloaded music, which in this instance was a lady by the name of Regina Spektor.
For the purposes of full disclosure, and because I think this lady is seriously talented and that everyone should give her a listen: Regina Spektor (born February 18, 1980) is a Soviet-born Jewish-American singer-songwriter and pianist. Her music is associated with the anti-folk scene centered on New York City’s East Village.
Ok, enough superfluous background info about the song…back to the actual story that made all this relevant and not just me being a Dad bragging about his daughter’s musical interests at an early age…in a semi-anonymous way…on a blog that is a spec on the naval lint that is the internet. There is a point! And I shall find it…it’s like a recession you spend your way out of…this is an alphabetical sink whole that you write your way out of. I’m printing money word here. I’m the alphanumeric treasury department. Sure, if I just keep writing then the value of every word is lessened, but we are in a word recession here and dog gone it, I am going to make sure that everyone has as many words as they need until this crisis is over! A chicken in every pot and a post on every blog! For those who don’t get the reference (not you…I know you get it, but there are a couple of dumb errr culturally illiterate I mean, young people who might not get it) - in 1928 the Republican’s promised that if Herbert Hoover was elected President there would be a “chicken in every pot and a car in every garage”. Of course it was a scant 7 months after he was elected that the stock market crashed and the US entered the Great Depression. Even funnier that Hitler took up that charge when he took power in Germany (to give every German a car) and thus was born the VW.
But I digress…When we last left our heroes, they were in a car - ok, so that’s not where I left off, but I am skipping ahead to make a short story long long story short. Or at least shorter. Work with me here people. So, what do we know?
- the Muppet has a strong love for music
- the Muppet has an even stronger sense of what she does and doesn’t like in her musical tastes
- Tex is a really funny writer and you are glad you are here
- Tex is not above shameless self-promotion when it is late and he is writing a blog post
- History is fun and Tex linked the Republicans and the Nazi in a VERY uncomfortable way even though it is the Democrats that seem to want to nationalize the automotive industry in the States today
- When making lists, Tex is easily distracted by stream of consciousness and should go back to anecdotal, or at least narrative writing
- Tex, and the Muppet, both like the musical talents of Regina Spektor - and neither of them is getting paid for this heartfelt endorsement
- The story that Tex should really get back to telling (sooner rather than later) takes place in a car
Everyone caught up? Anyone need to pee before we get back on the road? Good. Here we go.
Last weekend we as a family took a vacation - see previous post for details if you missed them. I had a fantasy baseball draft to do, and K-town was where said draft is held every year. And, yes, I did draft a freaking amazing team and should walk away with the championship yet one more time this year. Thank you for asking. The team is called the Sons of Thunder and we stole our logo from the Trenton Thunder (the NY Yankees AA affiliate ball team). We use the alternate logo:
Yeah…it is very cool.
But I digress…so after said draft had taken place, I collected the Muppet and Ferf and we got in the car to drive home - usually about a 3.5 hour drive. Though often times it will take longer because we have to stop in Merrit, and Hope, and Chiliwack so that the lovely ladies of my family can pee. Each of these places is like 5 minutes from each other. I kid I kid. But this time we were leaving a little later than I had wanted, and so Ferf and I formulated a plan. The Muppet had nothing to drink for like hours before we left, and we had her do a “last pee” right before we loaded up and left. This would, in theory, get us past Merritt and let our first stop be Hope. (And in a perfect world, our only stop.) But as we neared Merritt, we heard the first of the plaintiff cries from the back - “I have to pee!!” SO I looked at Ferf and said, “let’s stop in Merritt, I will top up the gas tank so we do not have to stop again, and you can drain the Muppet, so we do not have to stop again!” It seemed the perfect plan. Tank got filled, and the Muppet expelled the fluids that she had somehow managed to create out of nothing. We loaded back up and got on the road again.
Now it really is no more than 45 - 60 minutes from Merritt to Hope if you are driving the speed of traffic - which I was. But I swear it was like 10 minutes outside of Merritt that the Muppet said, “I have to go potty again.” Now, this was not something that made me happy to hear. I like to hear my daughter say many things…”I love you Daddy” is pretty high on the list…”uh oh” as a non-sequiter is low on it. But 30 seconds after she just voided her bladder and we are on the road through the mountains, “I have to pee again” is right there at the bottom. So, I looked at Ferf with that Dad look that communicates, “aw hell no” without actually saying “Aw hell no” cause my momma raised me better than to talk like that. And then I said, “Baby girl, you are gonna have to wait until the next place - cause YOU JUST WENT PEE. There is no way you have to go again.” Then Ferf whispers, “she really did pee back there - a lot!” So now I am convinced that she is just restless and thinks public toilets are cool. So I decide internally that I will not stop in Hope unless I become convinced that she really has to pee, and by rule (newly instituted solely for that drive) I will be hard to convince. So for the next 40 minutes we are serenaded by the Muppet bouncing from ” look Daddy, there is snow on the ground…I really have to pee Daddy…I see the moon Daddy…the moon is following us…I need to pee Daddy…my dolly can fly…I want to be a princess when I grow up…I need to pee Daddy…Mommy, did you know I need to pee…the moon is still following us Daddy…I have to get my masters degree before I can marry right?…are we there yet…I need to pee.” You get the picture. Any kid who is that easily distracted, does not really have to pee. The need-to-pee-ers bounce up and down a lot and focus solely on their painfully obvious need to pee, they kick their feet back and forth on the seat back in front of them in such a way as to annoy their parents rhythmically as if each kick to the seat was punctuating “I’…”NEED”…”TO”…”PEE” over and over, and their eyes start to well up with tears cause it hurts so badly (from which we get the phrase - “I have to pee so badly that my eyeballs are floating”). The Muppet was exhibiting none of the classic signs of serious urinary need. SO, as we passed the last exit to Hope, I motored on. Besides, Chiliwack is like only another 27 miles (44km to those who so love the Queen’s rulers). And she did not say a thing about peeing for the last 10 minutes before Hope or the first 5 minutes after Hope. And I figured that even if there had been the smallest degree of legitimacy to her claim, that we had simply been party to that mystical happening where the pee simply goes away. We’ve all had it happen…you have to pee so badly you think it is going to burst out of some other orifice, or create a new one, and then suddenly, it just goes away. We don’t really know what happens to it. It’s there and then it is not. Like some kind of bodily fluid Bermuda Triangle. But it only happens to pee…cause if it happened to say, blood, we would be in a world of hurt.
Police Officer 1: What happened here?
Police Officer 2: We don’t really know sir.
CSI: Don’t look at me.
Coroner: Don’t quote me on this, but it would appear that his blood simply went away.
Police Officer 1: I thought that only happened to pee!
Coroner: We thought so too. But if the bodily fluid Bermuda Triangle is expanding…well, I don’t even want to speculate about the consequences…
So maybe my burgeoning career as a screenwriter just went down in flames. But that is okay. I was digressing anyway. So meanwhile back at the ranch, we were minutes past the last exit for Hope and the Muppet is back to providing us with a need to pee play-by-play. And I think, maybe, just maybe, she really does need to pee. But I go back to the bag o’ tricks to see if she is distractable. We talk about the moon again for a while, and she seems to become oblivious to the pee - only to have it rear it’s ugly head in her consciousness once again. SO we move on to princess stories and contests to see how much dialogue from EVERY FRICKIN BARBIE MOVIE THAT IS IN EXISTENCE AND I HAVE BEEN FORCED TO WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN LIKE A CHINESE WATER TORTURE she can remember. (turns out to be just about every jot and tiddle in case you were wondering.) (And here is a link to the Wikipedia entry for what a jot and tittle is in case you were wondering that. I am a full service blog post provider and never let me hear you say differently!) But again, her mournful cry would echo through the car at random intervals, “I need to pee REALLY BADLY NOW DADDY.” So, I dug deep down into my repertoire and pulled out - the ipod. And the playlist that makes the Muppet happy. So we plug it into the lighter outlet in the car, and wallah - instant personal radio station. And I figure if I put on one of her favorite songs, then she will be so enraptured with singing along that all thought of urination would cease and desist. So I scramble to scroll through the list of over 500 totally legally downloaded or otherwise acquired songs, and the first one I come to that I know makes her short list, is Regina Spektor’s Fidelity. It is a great little diddy that will get stuck in your head and is fun to sing along with - thus making it perfect to help a 4 year old forget her (possibly) pseudo need to pee.
And at first it had every appearance to work exactly how I thought they would…she saw that I was turning on the ipod and immediately perked up and started asking if she could choose the first song. But I was already ahead of her on the song choice. I wanted to get something on ASAP. So I told her, I picked one of your favorites, and I pushed play. The first notes of the song flitted through the air from the speakers and her eyes lit up with recognition and she said, “OHHHH! Regina Spektor. I like Regina Spektor!” And she started singing along. At which point I looked over at Ferf with, I am sure, the most smug of looks thinking, “HA I KNEW IT! I WIN!” (yes, I realize this makes me horribly shallow that I somehow turned my daughter’s ostensibly fake need to pee into a contest of will with me, and worse, that it was important to me that I win. But I deal with it and move on…so should you. Nothing to see here people. Move along.)
It was about that time that the Muppet spoke from the back shattering my thin illusion of superiority. She simply said, “I love Regina Spektor. And speaking of Regina, my vagina needs to pee.”
I pulled over at the next gas station. I had to. I could not drive I was laughing so hard and my eyes were blurry from the tears.
And just for your listening and viewing pleasure, Here is the song we were listening to at the time. I hope it doesn’t make you have to pee…
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGTDRztaCCw[/youtube]
So I flew into Charleston on Saturday and I am sure that I will have so much to talk about before it is over, but there is one thing that I absolutely HAVE to tell you simply because it was just to random to not tell you.
I ate lunch at a seafood restaurant today in Charleston. It was an amazing meal and the place is no being run by the 4th and 5th generation of the founding family. The 4th generation is the managing partner and his name is Eli. He was on site and came over and talked to us and was incredibly good at customer service. I had forgotten what good customer service was like.
Anyways, it is the name of the place that I simply cannot get over. SO MANY JOKES, so many of them inappropriate…I can’t even get started. I’ll give you the pleasure of letting your mind run amok with this. I give you - the seafood restaurant in Charleston that you simply must patronize:
Hyman’s Seafood…seriously.