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The Glory of a Yard Sale

The garage has been cleaned out, so today we're having a yard sale at Mommy's house. It's great fun. The best part is that my mom can't be anywhere near the driveway when a sale is taking place- its just to painful for her to see precious possessions sold for 1/10 of what they are worth. Or worse, for free.
Dad, who'd been a salesman for 49 years, did most of the bargaining. He refuses to tell Mom what he sold the stuff for.
Mom, do not read the rest of this post.
My old bike and Dud's bike sold for a total of $35. The ugly divider (It has an orange sea scene on it) sold for $15. I gave away several of my old dolls and stuffed animals for free to some neighborhood kids. One little girl I gave some clothes to go along with the doll, including my first swim suit, which Mom still has for some unknown reason. Don't ask me why.
The fake guitar still hasn't gone, neither has my brother Tom's old golf set. No one's sure where he got the golf set from in the first place, though, so I guess it's okay. An unused tire from Dad's old red Jeep is still sitting in the middle of the driveway. The broken white lamp that my darling old Mother says is worth $100 is still sitting next to the perfectly fine black lamp which my ancient father is willing to give away for a buck.

Correction

My bad. My brother Ben was the one who pointed out the Ellen Degeneres similarity. Dad just said that Hilary Clinton looks like a lesbian Mrs. Partridge.

This one's for Dad

Pops and I are watching the political debate that's going on at the University of Nevada Las Vegas right now. All the Democratic presidential candidates are talking about the issues (though it sounds like they're arguing about who's cooler), and my Dad made an interesting point.
If you close your eyes while Hilary Clinton is speaking, she sounds a whole lot like Ellen Degeneres. Yeah, Ellen's ten years younger than her, but still. And then there's the fact that they look and sound alike. Check it out:
There is a definite similarity between the two. They're both women with short, blond hair. They're both stretching the limits of being "middle aged." They both have a slight southern twang when they speak.
I don't know about anyone else, but if I was trapped in a room with the two of them, and they both wore masks and identical outfits (Hilary dresses like she's ninety and Ellen like she's still in her twenties or thirties), I would not be able to tell the two apart without a great deal of effort. But I could just be being weird. That happens sometimes. A lot of the times.

No Patriots Tonight

It's very sad. They have the night off. No Patriots. I think I might cry.
...
Okay, I'm over it. They're just taking a tiny break in hopes of achieving true perfection in the coming games. They will, of course. But still, it's very sad. No good football games tonight. I should cry. Maybe I will.
...
Now I'm really over it. I think. Maybe. Perhaps. If I concentrate really hard, it doesn't bother me. Hey look! Ind is play Sd. Sd is winning. Ind may meet an embarrassing end tonight. Where do they get these names from anyway? team names make no sense. Who wants to root for a team named "Sd?" How do you even pronounce Sd, for that matter. "Essde?" "Sud?" "Ssduh?" At least Ind has a name I can say. It rhymes with end. Very convenient.

Poor Doggys

My family's going on vacation for Thanksgiving weekend. Bob and I invited my parents along and are considering taking our dogs. If we don't take the dogs, we'll have to leave them at their vets' office, and they hate that. Buddy, our shepherd-rottweiler mix, and Sparky, our cocker spaniel, go absolutely crazy there.
When we returned from our last vacation, we picked the dogs up from the vet. Buddy was so excited, he peed allover Bob Jr.'s leg. Bob Jr. didn't mind too too much, but it still didn't exactly make his day.
So we're in the middle of deciding whether or not we want to bring the dogs along with us. If we do, then they'll be thrilled. However, Buddy is a bit of an attack dog. He doesn't like strangers much, and if he bites anyone else, we'll have to put him to sleep. Therefore, there is some risk in bringing him along.
Mom is completely against the idea, not that she has much say in the matter. After all, she'll be our guest. However, if we bring them and her and she doesn't agree, it'll be one grumpy car ride in the Builder family van. Unlike my dear old mother, the rest of the family, from little Dud to my aged father, all support the idea of bringing the dogs along. What's the worst that could happen?

Mom's Garage

It's a nightmare.
A complete and total nightmare.
My dear old mother, who's been getting loopier and loopier with each passing year, decided that today would be a good day to clean her garage. She called me up and guilted me into coming over to help. Bob and our useless kids all found convenient excuses that prevented them from coming. So next thing I knew, I was at my parent's house, with my parents and brothers, standing in front of their garage. Dad soon drove off to go "shopping for supplies." Like we all didn't know he was making a clean run for it.
For a garage that is maybe six feet deep, twenty feet long, and seven feet high, it held a catastrophic amount of stuff. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought she had found a way to fit some kind of black hole into it to keep all her stuff inside the garage.
Anyway, it took the four of us about five hours to go through the thing. It's a lot emptier now, but only because most of the stuff is either waiting for the garbageman to come on Tuesday or sitting in our backyard, waiting for next week's yard sale.

Bob is starting to annoy me

He's obsessed with building a giant rocking chair. He leaves the house every morning at 4:30 to work on it and doesn't come back home until 10 at night. As soon as he gets home, he collapses into bed and sleeps until it's time to leave again. I never see him. I never talk to him. It's horrible.
From what I understand, the rocking chair is the key to his taking over the world, something I can not allow. World domination is the sole responsibility of the Divine Purple Elephant Queen, and he has no right to attempt interference.
Speaking of which, the Divine Purple Elephant Queen's plan to taking over El Salvador are going even better than planned. By 2010, we hope to control all of Central and South America.
Beat that, Bob.

My Dad is an old man

And boy, do I mean old. He was walking around with a cane yesterday. A CANE! The man acts like he's 150 years old when he's only a third of that age.
Okay, so he does have a medical excuse. His knee was bothering him. But still, it's kinda sad.

What's even sadder is what he did to the cane. It was practically antique. It's genuinely broken now. Before breaking it, he added red duck tape to the bottom of it so that it wouldn't slip and slide while walking. The duct tape did nothing to stop the handle from snapping off when he actually put to much weight on the thing. Because the cane was beautifully carved and fairly oldish, Mom was fairly upset. She called me to complain, and I drove over to their place just in time to stop her from throwing the cane out completely. Some good wood glue and it will be in one piece, though it may never work properly again. I don't think wood glue can support 200 pounds of force. I might be wrong though.

The Dishes. Of Doom.

I did a total count. There were 18 people eating at my table for dinner. Well, 18.5, actually. I forgot to include Dud. Poor kid.
So naturally, there are numerous dishes that now need to be washed. For each person there is a plate, a fork, a knife, a spoon, a cup, a desert plate, and a napkin. Not that I was the paper napkins. That's really not my cup of tea.
If I finish these dishes before midnight, it'll be a miracle.

P.S. These aren't the actual dinner dishes. This is a picture I grabbed off of the internet. My cutting board is not nearly as worn.

The neighbors visit

Our neighbors, the Lockes, are visiting th Builder house for dinner tonight. No sooner did I get home from a hard day of escorting kids to their Saturday activities than the first of the Lockes appeared.
They're really nice people. There are two little girls and one little boy. Dud likes to play with the boy, and the two girls adore all my daughters.
Dinner was delicious, of course, because my parents are also visiting. The house is stuffed. We had our nine and a half kids, Bob and myself, my parents, and all five members of the Lockes family. The table was stuffed. No elbow room allowed. None. Luckily, I knew what I was doing and managed to set the table just right to give everyone enough room to eat without getting in each other's way.
Ugh. Now I have to go do all of the dishes. Joy.

Homework is evil

Or at least that is what my kids say. It's been so long since I was their age, I really can't remember. Poor Bob Jr. had six HOURS of homework in just one class yesterday, and even little Dud had a solid hour's work to do.
I think I'm glad I'm not in school anymore.
Bob has imposed a new rule in our house: No doing anything until homework is completely done. The kids absolutely despise the idea. Evidently, when there's that much homework, there would be no time to have any "fun".
But what's the point of fun? I've never gotten it. You enjoy yourself for a short amount of time, and then it's over. I'd prefer something more permanent myself. But that's just me. Maybe I'm weird. I dunno.

Why you don't want to make an elephant mad

Hopefully, that's reason enough for you. Elephants are rarely truly angry, but when upset, they are not a pretty sight to see. One time I saw an elephant go absolutely crazy over someone dropping its favorite type of peanut (the Styrofoam kind) on the ground. Every elephant has its own personal peeves, and they are not things to be messed with.
When elephants get REALLY mad, they call in the Divine Purple Elephant Queen. She's their leader not just because she is divine, but because she is by far more frightening than the other elephants can be. The Divine Purple Elephant Queen is three times the size of normal elephants, and can squash a human with a single step if she so wishes. She can shoot fire out of her trunk, a sight which inspired ancient man to create dragon myths. The Queen has existed for years immeasurable, and will probably still be living long after any people alive now are gone.

You don't want to mess with the Queen

I suppose you're off the hook...

Alright, Mr. Beckett, you're off the hook.
Until the next baseball season, anyway.
In response to these developments, I forced that poor polar bear to completely consume the contents of the Coca-Cola bottle you saw earlier. The bear wasn't pleased, but like all good minions, he would do anything for the Divine Purple Elephant Queen, of whom I am a representative.
Now it's the Patriots that need to be worried. I want a perfect season, after all.

Fox scares me

The news company, I mean.
Check out this messed up article they published. It's just sick and wrong. There's no way it will actually happen, yet those delusions still exist. The Rockies are going DOWN tonight. They won't win. They won't come close to winning. They won't even smell the faintest whiff of potential victory.
I think Fox is just mad that Massachusetts, and by extension the Red Sox, is more "with it" than it is. After all, Massachusetts is a blue state, and Fox is about as red as it gets.
No offense to conservatives, but you have a seriously biased news source.

You're not off the hook yet, Mr. Beckett

Do the Sox won last night. Big deal. Tonights the night that really counts. I want this series to be over. A clean sweep of the Rockies. I know you guys can do it, and I'm not accepting ANY excuses.
None.
You'd better win. It should be a piece of cake. If you don't, then remember that "bottle of Coca-Cola" I showed you earlier.
Penguins and Polar Bears, Mr. Beckett, Penguins and Polar Bears.

Details, details

Don't think you're gonna get off easy, Mr. Beckett. I was recently informed that you aren't going to be playing in today's game.
I don't care.
If you're a part of the Red Sox and the Sox don't do well, it's your fault if they don't do well. Deal with it.
Be very careful of penguins and polar bears if they don't win tonight, Mr. Becket.

That's not a Coke.

I don't care who told you what, that penguin is not giving that polar bear a Coke. Nope, that's the top secret plan of what they'll do if the Red Sox don't win the game tonight. You don't want to know what's inside of it. Top secret, highly confidential stuff. It's so classified, even the Divine Purple Elephant Queen doesn't have access to it. And let me tell you, the Divine Purple Elephant Queen knows EVERYTHING. She knows what you're having for breakfast next Tuesday morning, even if you have no idea. She knows when you'll finally stop putting off your least favorite chore. She knows what your first word was, when you said it, where you said it, and what you meant by it.
So let me tell you, this is top secret stuff. I shouldn't even be telling you it exists. But if I didn't, I'd feel guilty. So be prepared for what will happen if the Sox don't win tonight. Especially you, Mr. Becket. And Big Papi, you should be sweating in your sleep.
Though you better not be sleeping 20 minutes before the game.

Old Dad and Co.

In honor of the Red Sox game tonight, Bob and I invited my father, a die-hard Red Sox fan, over to watch the game. Dad brought along a friend.
So now we've got two old dudes starring at our television, counting down the milliseconds until the first pitch is thrown. It's horribly boring, so I'm stuck blogging for something to do.
On the plus side, Dad's a good cook, for all he is quite a way over the hill. Tonight for dinner he is making Chicken Cordon Bleu, one of his favorite meals to make. I can't wait for dinner, but I can wait for dishes. Where's Bob Jr. when you need him? Dumb kid had to run off to sleep over a friend's house tonight. To bad none of the other 8.5 kids are any good at dish washing.
5:02. That means there are 28 minutes left until the game. Yay!

Case and Point

The one on top is a rocky mountain oyster. The one below it is an oyster.
Which would you rather eat?
Go Red Sox!

I want to see this again soon

And I mean soon. As in tomorrow. You guys better win tonight! The Rockies don't stand a chance. Keep on cremeing them. Show no mercy. None. Nada. Zip. They are what stands between you and your second World Series Championship in three years. Sure, they've got Rocky Mountain Oysters for sale in their stadium, but you're Boston. In Boston, oysters mean a type of mollusks, not bull testicles. I think you guys have the upper hand.

If you start loosing, keep this in mind:
Penguins and Polar Bears.

Sound System Setup

Bob is WAY to lazy.
He refuses to do any of the handywork around the house, even though he's a professional builder. His excuse is that he doesn't want to bring his work home, but I know that it's just him wanting to sit in his easy chair and watch TV.
Anyway, he bought a new sound system for our living room while I was out yesterday. This morning, he made me set it up. It took me three hours to get the thing to work properly. The sound quality is amazing, but the thing was almost more trouble than it is worth. I am annoyed.
This isn't the only time Bob has made me do that sort of thing, though. When our oldest son wanted a weight bench, who do you think set it up? When our daughter got an iPod, who set that up? Whenever there's anything to be set up, it's my job. Fun, no?

Let's go Red Sox!!!!

I'm wearing my green "pride o' the neighborhood" Red Sox shirt just for you guys. You had better win the world series. If you don't, well, I may have to send the penguins and polar bears after you.

Trust me. You don't want that.

Go team!!!

Cover Up

On second thought, forget I said anything in that last post. It was all a lie. Ignore it. I have absolutely no plans to help purple elephants take over El Salvador. None. Nada. Zip. I swear, it was all a lie. I swear on my sister's grave.
Oh wait. I don't have a sister. Never did.

Bob and the Purple Elephant plot.

Bob and I are deeply in love. It is so nice to be married. We are so happy together, and with all of our kids. Life is bliss.
Anyway, my apologies for not having been on recently. I was working on my plan to help purple elephants take over the world. It's coming along quite nicely. By February of 2028, everyone should be bowing the the Divine Purple Elephant Queen. With the help of the penguins from the north pole and polar bears from the south pole, we should start taking over El Salvador, which is our first target, in a matter of months.
At first, we'll trick them into thinking it's just a small, peaceful internet campaign. We'll send every El Salvadorian email account a picture of the Diving Purple Elephant Queen with a message saying something along the lines of "This is the Divine Purple Elephant Queen. Submit to her Wondorous Rule." Then, slowly, we'll start a political party. Before you know it, we'll be in charge and we'll change El Salvador's government to a dictatorship, with The Queen as the dictator.
It will be awesome.