The dinosaur in the mop

      We recently moved to the sunshine state after many years of  visiting only two attractions in the whole state...every year....for eight years. One thing we blithely ignored was the wildlife in the area. By this I am referring to the miniature dinosaurs that seem to be everywhere. We are squeamish people. Spiders and crickets send us screaming into the streets and have actually caused one daughter, who shall remain nameless, to throw in the towel on her job when cicadas showed up for work too.

     Anyway, Saturdays are a mad effort to accomplish deep cleaning in our home. This past Saturday was no different until the dinosaur made its appearance.

We keep our mops outside, the favorite has no endcap but it's easy to use , a simple string mop. I bring it in the house along with the bucket,ignorantly fill the bucket in the sink when something catches the corner of my eye. I saw it, it must have been 5 ft. long weighing in at a ton. I am alone in the house, screaming my head off , and....texting. I actually took the time in between gulping breaths to continue screaming and texting any one I thought could help.

Via text: My brother tells me don't worry let it go it will die and dry out, my youngest wants  me to move back to Virginia and my oldest is asking " is this a joke ?"  My love is laughing her ass off.

I did manage to get the dinosaur, no way did I want it to match the one that died between the screen and window and is now  museum quality. My baby's suggestion " you could string up a collection near the door to warn the others" I thought about this, it would be like post your kills on the side of a jet. I could be like Katniss ! My dinosaur is now suffocating in the mop covered in cleaner, I scoot him to the door and out he goes.
   
     I am now thinking if I could get a bunch dried out. I could turn them into wind chimes, but then PETA would be at my door. My daughter-in-law mentions making a necklace. My love of jewelry only goes so far, unless one of the little things  is named Tiffany it's a no go. My oldest is now worried I have gone down the downward spiral of tribal mentality . We have now moved on to possible recipes with my youngest worried that I will start roasting them for medicinal purposes.


Me: I'm going make a blog about this.
My youngest : Why do I feel that if you blog this I'm going to have the FBI at my door asking " what's she like in her personal life ?"
Me : maybe it's time for a much needed vacation in Mexico !
My youngest : I think I'll just prepare an FBI statement in advance.

I get there somehow

Somehow or other I get from point A to point B, sooner or later. This usually involves a Garmin, Mapquest, directions on my IPhone and my daughter with the freakish abilities of a compass. All of this at the same time.

I have given up spreading the map across my steering wheel as I drive. Seems that other drivers frown on that sort of thing if the honking is any indication. My youngest daughters have no fear of the open road as well as her brothers .
The love of my life also relies on some type of directions but very little. She insists on taking the highway everywhere while I will stick to the local streets, sometimes through very questionable neighborhoods. I've been known to make the children slink all the way down in their seats until we were safely through. They sometimes ended up sitting on the floor if my fear level was high enough.

Today we are on the road to a gynecology appointment for my partner. I, of course, am a backseat driver .
Me: you know if you took that other street we could have made it onto the main road sooner
My love : that other street doesn't go to the main road.
Me: yes it does
My love : no it doesn't ( voice is getting a little tense here)
Me: yes it does ( what am I ? Twelve years old ?)
My love : that street does not go there.
At this point I am drawing an imaginary map in the air.
Me: well, I get there somehow.
My love: well of course you do.

Of course I still get to gloat as traffic on the highway is backed up . Maybe next time she will let me do the driving.

Me, a cockroach?

     Growing up my father always drilled into to us that you get what you pay for. He also showed us that even if you did spend hard earned bucks on anything you examined it closely.

We grew up in a family of ten, eight children , mom and dad. We were close , sheltered and never wanted even if we did not have all the things our friends had. But it was always new,well cared for and worth the wait.

     Fast forward to adulthood and having forgotten those important lessons. My ex was in the military for quite a few years and most things were provided for us as far as furnishings go. The less you had to move the better. Especially when it involved hard drinking nationals overseas who would craftily wrap and box anything in sight unless you told them you did not want the family dog to expire on the trip. One year they even wrapped one child's birthday cake that was to be eaten that night.

     After finally leaving the service we had to learn about what is a bargain and what could possibly be harmful to your health. This is where the cockroach seating comes in.

     Let me be clear, it was not infested with vermin, it was just infested with ....me.

     Trying to save money I frequented yard sales, neighbors homes ,thrift shops.  I came across a dinette set that I just had to have. It was well used , glass top and brass like chairs. The table was wobbly at best, and the chairs ...well the chairs were questionable . But I was proud of my purchase, got it home, set it up and proudly waited to display it. We lived in a nice neighborhood and friends dropped by all day as my door was always open. This was one of those days I'd wished the children in the neighborhood saw my place as a gingerbread house and that I would just as quickly snatch one of them up to stew . 

    I sat down to lunch and disappeared immediately into the well. Hands and feet pointed to the ceiling,face planted well into the space between my knees, looking for all the world like a dying cockroach. I was trapped. Then I heard it. The sound of a child's voice in wonderment "Wow, look at that!" Peeking through my knees and the veil of  my humiliation, I saw all the neighbor children  in my dining room .

   I would stay in this position for a bit although I was able to turn myself and my new outerwear on our sides . I couldn't wriggle myself out of this contraption and had to wait patiently until someone could butter my ass to slide it off. Of course I had to wait even longer until they came to after having passed out from laughter.

My stripper name?

Gotcha' !
This isn't what I'm sure you were expecting to find . If you were looking for something a little risqué as in porn I could probably tell you where to find it but it would have to be on the sly as I have family that would quickly disown me .
I came up with the name because in a former life my best friends were strippers much to my ex husband's dismay....and jealousy. Many a time my stripper friends and I would have lunch, discuss their children, yes many were mommies, and they would run their routines by me. I would gleefully tell the ex about this later in the evening and watch the veins pop in his forehead. I even toyed with the idea of naming my daughter after one of them and swore that if she did become a stripper I would be supportive of her line of work.
Then I myself became a mommy and while my baby did get a stripper middle name I did steer her into a different way of life. Although if you knew her name and put her initials together you would think I had joined a satanic cult. The nurse caught it though and probably thinking into the future decided to put her own spin on my child's name by joining the two middle names and saving her from a sure spot in hell.
Since then this child was joined by 3 minions/siblings and children of her own, there are other grandchildren, life partners,  including my own. There are step children, animals with mental health issues equal to our own, delusions of grandeur and in all of us, gypsy souls.
There will be baring of souls, documented moments of insanity, the occasional slip with the law and brutal moments with the bathroom scale, and the dreaded story of the lizard that started this journey into blogging madness.
Here's hoping this is a journey without too many bumps and scrapes and capped off nightly with a dose of medicinal booze until stupefied for the night.

Meri