Tuesday, November 13, 2012

The grand kids think I'm evil

We have granddaughters living with us because we just don't feel we really need that motor home and the chance to retire in Key West.

I lie to them on a daily basis and go to great lengths to cause them great humiliation . I like my fun. Don't judge me.

I want them to be prepared for life and to keep them on their toes. There'll be no need for trust in their fellow human beings when they grow up. No siree bob.

We spend a lot time together on the weekends if we can . It has become a sport. One of the things we like to do is spend time at the parks for the thrill rides.The girls are looking for fun, I am looking for a heart attack on a ride or a stroke.

Unless there is screaming involved, or some kind of dry heaving , they are generally not interested in checking certain attractions out.
I want to include some education during the outings because , lets face it, I like to screw with their fun.

Enter, The Hall of Presidents. A thrill ride it ain't.

This really is a fascinating exhibition with a lot of historical information and amazing animatronics on U.S. history. You sit in some very nice chairs and relax and watch a documentary. I think the minimum age this is targeted for is 50.

For eight years I have tried to figure out how to get them in there. The Innocents, their mom, My Love and I sit down to eat. The answer was so obvious. The lying started...over lunch and took on a life of its own.

Me: I thought I was never going to stop screaming on that ride !
The Innocent ones: What ride Grandma ?
Me : The Hall of Presidents !

Dead silence and stares.

Me: You have to check it out. First it looks really nice when you go in, but what's behind the blue velvet curtains is going to scare you. The dark tunnels and cold air. ( Think coal mines here).

More dead silence but eyes are getting wide.

The Innocents: Nah uh.
Me : Yeah huh .
Sparkling conversationalists we are not.

Me: First you get in a coal car, it has a gigantic Presidential head on it , kinda like on a pirate ship. There is fog everywhere.

Mouths drop open.

Me: You start moving into the dark tunnel ( I have lost control here and cannot stop ) there is super cold air , it smells dank. The screaming from the people in the car ahead is fading away. The car rolls through the Revolutionary War and Civil War. It almost made me deaf from the gunfire.

Eyes are glazing over with visions.

Me, ( they have become mutes at this point) : the car starts going up a little and you hang on because there are no belts to hold you in your seat. And then ... then you start to roll downhill so fast that it pushes you against your seat and if you put your hands up in the air it feels like they will be ripped off !

The Innocents : Aww man !!! How come you never told us about it ?!?!?
We're going on that ride next !!! Grandma, you guys are so mean for not telling us about it ! We're not gonna believe you anymore ! You just don't want us to have fun !

Me: Wait ! There's more ! After the wars you roll down into the darkness, you're sinking into the " Depression ". You see nothing but dry desert and ....

I lost it this point , they were drooling ,I couldn't keep it up. They ran off to get on " the ride of their life". We just sat there and we laughed and we laughed ...

Monday, November 5, 2012

Tiny toes

Because we now live in Florida we take advantage of the attractions, the warm weather and virtual anonymity that tourists provide. You can do almost anything crazy thing you want and no one will remember you unless you managed to photo bomb their family picture or someone has whipped out their camera phone, in which case you smile pretty for their photo or you better have a pretty ass because it will be out there for eternity.

One of the things we have also noticed is the amount of  new babies at the parks, most appear to be newborns. There must have been a blackout or a snowstorm a little over ten months ago that would explain the boom. We smile to ourselves when we see tiny little toes sticking out in the air under the hood of what amounts to tiny Conestoga wagons in a wagon train. These are impressive strollers loaded down with the family's household goods. One dad was bent forward in half trying to push  his family's belongings as though he were going up the side of a mountain. We followed him a little while in case he rolled back and needed assistance. One child ran out in front acting as a scout. We eventually abandoned him when we smelled something sugary and ran like ants to the feast.
Thinking about it later I wondered about the littlest tourists and what would happen in the future as they will not remember this trip and will jealously look at the vacation photos of the supposed good time they had.

Child: why can't we go to Disney like my friend from school ( these friends from school do all the cool stuff.).
Mom: Because we just can't afford it now honey
Child : But you went !
Mom: So did you honey
Child : No I didn't , it doesn't count because I was in a stroller and  all I saw was the ass end  of the person blocking my view
Mom: I'm sorry sweetie, we have to wait until daddy grows a new kidney to sell and then we'll be able to afford to go
Child: If you loved me you would sell daddy.
Mom: Don't think mommy hasn't thought about it sweetie.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

We need a drink

It's been quite a busy two weeks here what with the ghoul I live with and dead rodents dropping out of the sky upon said ghoul. Throw in a last minute BBQ/birthday party for 17 people, where I actually contemplated crawling onto the grill by the wings and sausage because I was done, just done and you know the time I've had.

Let's start with the ghoul aka My Love.

It's a week before Halloween and My Love decided to do some yard work (finally) because I had decided to slice under her skin and crawl in there to spread some itching powder and motivate her to "FREAKING PLANT THE DAMNED MANGO TREE ALREADY, honey".
So out she goes , starts digging where I TOLD HER I wanted the tree.

In the meanwhile, I am sitting in the bedroom because I could not be bothered to be covered in sweat. My Love bursts into the room. She is hopping around on tiptoes in frenzied anxiety. " How big is that yard?!?!?! How big is that yard?!?!?!"
I am afraid to give the wrong answer and at this point wished I had paid more attention in geometry class because I am now trying to figure out how to make AxB=pi-square something and give some quasi intelligent answer.
I innocently threw out " I don't know 2x3 feet."
Well it turned out it wasn't so much a trick question as a cry for help.
A few years ago, when my brother lived in the house, his beloved dog Tatiana had to be put down after becoming ill. He couldn't bear to have her cremated and so he prepared her to be buried in the furthest part of the yard and made a little shrine for her. A little shrine that My Love moved unknowingly in her zeal to be come a self sufficient Gardner

Now you're getting ahead of me.

I also did not know that we were caretakers of a pet cemetery .
My Love is busily perfecting the most perfect circle in the earth at least four feet deep. I know, I saw it, it was a thing of beauty. When we were able to sedate her somewhat she finally told us what happened. In her quest to make that perfect hole in the ground she hit something hard after a certain point. Previously the lot was covered in all kinds of fruit trees. She thought she hit on left over roots of something and decided to see if she'd dug deep enough anyway and dropped the little tree, bucket and all, into the hole causing a cloud of earth to spray her in the face. It was going to work, but she needed to see what exactly the obstruction was. 

You guessed it, it was poor Tatiana.

After finding this out I realized I should check to see if my love had shit her pants, but her anxiety was worrying me more. I thought this was not the time to tell her that the previous owner of the home was an avid hobbyist of taxidermy and my brother's understanding was the yard may be riddled with corpses.

To make a long story short,too late I know, the little mango tree continues to live in her bucket, tied to a post, the hole has since been refilled, a huge paver put on top, a piece of wood on top of that. We obviously think we have disturbed the spirits and will now pay. We are afraid to go out to the backyard in the dark and look at it tentatively from the kitchen window looking for all the world like a family of meerkats.

To add to My Loves misery, the very next day she decides to go out to water the yard when a dead rodent, probably dropped by some vicious bird of prey like a pterodactyl or something (remember the dinosaurs on the mop) because that sucker was big, hits the ground in front of her.I was in the shower at the time when I heard  "Sonuvabitch !"
We think it was payback for disturbing Tatiana. If that is payback, all we can say is

" Well played Tati, well played."