The Winter Break Blues

Image courtesy: Another side of yukita

Monday morning I start off with a bang
Took the kids to an indoor park called Kang-
Go, I said after paying the fee.
My membership ran out months ago—really? Three?

Five minutes later, Big Bear was in tears
She’d bashed her poor toes
Couldn’t bounce or climb stairs.
Needed some pizza—stat!—but beware,
The friggin’ hot cheese burned the mouth of Little Bear.

On Tuesday we headed west to Erie
After hours of Barbie songs, boy, was I weary.
We got there by two, suits ready to don,
But no room in Splash Lagoon:
“It’s peak season, (you moron).”


Image courtesy: Warren County CVB (This is Great Wolf Lodge in Ohio, but looks similar to Splash Lagoon.)

Curses and drat, sold out tomorrow too?
No worries, cause by nightfall, both kids had the flu!
Kidding—just colds—what do you take me for?
We’re first in line for flu shots.
With innoculations, I’m hardcore.

Thursday, Miss Sidney made a trip to our vet
Her teeth grimier than the Titanic’s underside, I bet.
Home again, yowling, minus a tooth,
Lurching around drunk, falling down stairs—how uncouth!

Now she’s on antibiotics
Another med in my cart?
With all the pills, suspensions, and needles
This nurse needs a flow chart.

Friday, Little Bear had a fever and it hit me
All her crying on the potty meant another trip to the
Pediatrician, and wouldn’t you know
She also on antibiotics; as Homer says, “D-oh!”

So it’s Sunday. I’m done,
Hiding in bed for some rest.
Minutes later, the kids find me
And destroy my cozy nest.

Closing my eyes,
I play possum and pray,
Oh God, let me sleep!
But it ain’t happenin’ today.
While my little one pries back my lids with a barrette,
My oldest giggles madly, like a hyena with tourettes.


Image courtesy: Phil @ Delfryn Design

The worst part of the torture is thus:
In six weeks—Spring Break!
(Maybe I’ll be hit by a bus.)
But hold on, hold up,
Just a minute, now, Jake.

We’re off to the beach. I know what to bring.
Meat tenderizer for jellyfish stings!
Running shoes to dash from amorous gators!
And every flavor of Gogurt for the refrigerator!


Image courtesy: Anirudh Koul

Except this is silly.
Why pack for Kiawah’s resort?
When a freak April blizzard
Will close Rochester’s airport.

Fun With Fine Print

No, I’m not talking about the literary agency. Although, following Janet Reid’s blog is more fun than a barrel of monkeys cranking out 100 word stories containing the words cupcake, fisticuffs, jaundice, headgear, and Engelbert Humperdink. If Randy Jackson ever gives up his judging seat on Idol, I’m sending FOX a link to The Query Shark. The Toothy One's comments make Simon Cowell's barbs seem like mother's kisses.


Image courtesy WildChild1976

Okay, focus. Today’s ‘Fun with Fine Print’ is provided by Citi Bank and their missive on credit card coverage perks. Yes, this fine piece of writing unfolds into a ten-page (front and back) mass of legalese requiring a magnifying glass to read and a degree in physics to refold.

Why, pray tell, was I reading such dreck? I wasn’t! What do you take me for? I don’t have time to follow the latest on Egypt or keep up with the Kardashians, much less this stuff. It was my husband. Remind me to chew him out for reading this stuff instead of helping with the laundry or dishes.

Things that make you go hmmmm:

1) The Buyers Security Program does not cover mysterious disappearances.

OOOooo. I know you’re asking, “What is a mysterious disappearance, exactly?” Don’t fret, they define it for you. Ready? “Vanishing of an item in an unexplained manner marked by absence of evidence of the wrongful act of another.” So if a poltergeist snatches your iPad, you’re screwed.


Image courtesy Flickred

2) The Trip Cancellation and Interruption policy does not cover “one-way travel that does not have a Return Destination.”

Wow. Legalese aside, is this even possible? The good husband says, “Yes, I can think of two places and they both begin with ‘H’.” Of course I had to up the ante. “Don’t forget the Hotel California.” He tried to counter with a roach motel, but no. As much as credit card companies are lusting after new addresses to bombard with applications, roach motels don’t come with mailboxes.


Image courtesy cote

3) The best fine print I’ve heard of came from a homeowner’s insurance policy. I can’t quote them exactly, but to paraphrase, they don’t honor claims in the event of an accidental nuclear detonation.


Image courtesy bug138

Dude, that’s harsh. I’ll let you insert your own jokes on that baby. My brother-in-law came up with a wicked dare: ask the insurance agent how much a rider on this particular issue would cost.

On a practical note, for those of you owning jewelry, some insurance policies don’t cover lost gems, but do cover lost rings. So if your engagement diamond mysteriously disappears, lose the rest of the ring before you contact your agent (and for the love of Bob, don't mention the spooky apparition you saw earlier that day).

Seen anything chuckalicious in print? Let me know.

She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not—A Horror Story

Meet Jesse, my thirteen-year-old diabetic wonder cat. Here are some absolutely true fascinating facts about this here animule:

1) She was the runt of the second litter.
2) She was named after a penguin.
3) She had a black streak down her head as a kitten, very punk rock.
4) She was mentioned in my wedding vows.
5) She bites.

Last week I took her and her sister, the Fabulous Miss Sidney, to the vet for their yearly dose of torture, uh, shots. I pulled the J-cat out of her travel crate for her weigh-in; then I put her back in. I pulled the J-cat out for her shots and put her back in, again. Just as I was putting my peeved pet back in her carry around, the vet said, “What’s this about bumps on her skin?”



I stick my hand back in the cage and Jesse does a most impressive imitation of a rabid vampire. Trying to stay cool, I pull my hand out and continue to describe the size of these bumps without missing a beat. While I’m blabbering on about the size of the stuff they put in Beanie Babies, the vet looks at my hand and says, “OH MY GOD!”

Glancing down at my stinging paw, I see blood running down my fingers in a torrent, splattering all over my coat, jeans, and the floor. OMG!

Maintaining my coolness, I dart over to the sink and run the mess under cold water. Instead of stopping, the red rivulet keeps on keeping on and I’m seeing black thread and a needle in my future.



The doc finds me some gauze and tells me to hold the hand up. A vet tech comes in, lets me smear some bright blue bacteria cream on the wounds, and wraps my hand up, nice and tight. They send me home, Jesses’s bumps be damned, and tell me to get medical attention ASAP—a ten day stint of swallowing antibiotic pills bigger than my cat. Yowza.

So how do you handle the sight of blood?

A: I can eat steak tartare while watching Saw VI
B: Bunnicula scarred me for life

But seriously folks, cat bites can put you in the hospital. If Fluffy-Muggins sinks her fangs into you, don’t just laugh it off.