What have I been up to, that I can't lend one minute of my time over the last several weeks to my old pal the rookiedad blog? Well, lets see...
Anyway, I got to spend 10 days with pops, and he got to spend 10 days with his grandkids (the youngest of which he hadn't met)... He taught me a few parenting tricks, too! We had a great time together. We went to New York city and our adventures there are the subject of another, far more entertaining post (still in draft form, gathering cobwebs with the rest).
I will briefly mention that my dad got to witness the neighbors up in arms, with pitchforks and torches, clamoring for the eviction (or ceremonial pyre-burning) of yours truly. Can you believe it! All because our three little retardogs barked for 24 hours straight (yes, we left them alone for that long... no we are not evil dog-torturers... yes, they had plenty of food and water laid out for them (enough for surviving three successive hurricanes in comfort)... no, they were not left outside (but, having access to the backyard... they chose to station themselves there... and proceeded to rattle the nerves of an entire neighborhood).
Anyway, there may be more on that later. There were angry neighbors and cops. There were threats and apologies. There were smiles and tears. There were cats and dogs... or well, dogs. There was drama galore.
At any rate... Dad left and school started the next day. And I've been reading ever since. Nonstop.
Oh, except for the bit where I helped my wife battle the invasion of the pantry moths from hell.
It started like this...
Wifey-for-lifey - "LOOK THERE IS ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE HORRIBLE MOTHS!!!!"
Rookiedad - "Hm?"
Wifey-for-lifey - "SERIOUSLY, COME KILL IT!!!"
Rookiedad (grudgingly getting up from the couch) - "Hmf."
Wifey-for-lifey - "PLEASE, COME KILL IT NOW. I'M GOING TO KILL IT!!!!!!!"
(Incidentally, I fear I may not be using enough exclamation signs to accurately convey my wife's true emotional state)
Rookiedad - (while slowly making my way to the kitchen, pausing to a consider a misplaced toy, a scribble on the wall, an unshaven face on the mirror) "Don't kill it, I'm coming, I'm coming."
Wifey-for-lifey - "KILL IT PLEASE???"
Rookiedad (sarcastically) - "Why? So it can't continue to plan its hostile takeover of the planet?"
Wifey-for-lifey (too angry and distraught to speak)- "!"
Rookiedad - "Where? I don't see it."
Wifey-for-lifey - "RIGHT THERE!!!!!!!"
Rookiedad - (feigning squinting) "That tiny little thing? Baby that can't possibly sting you... bite you... or kidnap the children what is the big deal?"
Wifey-for-lifey (still too angry and distraught to speak)- "!"
Rookiedad - sigh
Wifey-for-lifey (angrier)- "!"
Rookiedad - (reaching tenderly to catch the miniature-beast in my hand without accidentally turning it into a smudge) "Come here little guy."
Wifey-for-lifey - "KILL IT PLEASE???"
Rokiedad - "Baby, I'm just going to take it outside and it will fly away. We'll never see it again."
The Moth - "Heh... heh... heh"
Rokiedad - "There... its gone."
Wifey-for-lifey - "I don't understand why you think it's OK to kill Bambi, but you won't let me kill a stupid moth!"
Rokiedad - "Baby, we've gone over that a thousand times... lets leave Bambi out of this for now... can I go back to the couch?"
(For the record, I have not killed Bambi yet. But I intend to get all camouflaged up and go try again this season.)
Anyway, the above exchange took place - with minor variations - and with increasing regularity over a month or two... until near "the end" it was happening once or twice a day.
I may have even acquiesced and killed the occasional moth. Its not that I'm a bug-hugger or anything like that, its just I am not a big fan the just-squish-it approach to dealing uninvited guests.
At any rate, one Saturday morning I opened the fridge door and decided that IT needed cleaning so I asked my wife whether she wanted the fridge or the pantry. She took fridge. I took pantry. Kids were napping.
I'll spare you the gory details. Basically what I found was this. EVERY SINGLE DAMN flour, cornmeal, pancake mix, grits, and cream of wheat container (and then half of the cereal boxes, at least one jar of sugar... some chocolates... and assorted others things) was infested with... yes... wait for it...
I'm not squeamish.
In fact, I am (to my wife's dismay) about as un-squeamish as you they come.
But I have to admit that there is no better way to put this: gross and disgusting.
I probably threw away some 20 or 30 pounds of stuff... crawling full of squirmy little caterpillars.
Mind you, we are not really a baking family, except for brownies & the occasional pizza... so most of the infested items were basically serving decorative duty over the months since we moved in.
OK, OK, That is no excuse... I should have listened to my wife! I KNOW!
And that is why I have not written anything lately. I have been either reading, trying to avoid being sacrificed by angry neighbors at the altar of peaceful bark-free sleeping, or battling moth invaders.
(OK, I admit, sometimes I do other things. Occasionally I sleep, cook, shower, watch an episode of True Blood, or even change a diaper...)