Please, Don't Ask.

Friday afternoon and Grady is hopping up and down in the rose garden. It would appear that he had lost a shoe on the roof (and no I didn't ask). Lindsay seizes this opportunity to lock him out. Did I mention it was raining ? In a desperate attempt to dislodge his shoe, he hurled a pointed stick at the roof which promptly boomeranged off and narrowly missed impaling him in the chest, as he fell in the rose bush to avoid it. Now it was getting interesting, so Lindsay and I pulled up a chair in the front window to watch the drama unfold. We didn't have to wait long, as Grady raided the garage and found an old floor lamp. Charging down the front porch like a knight in a joust he attempted to knock his shoe off with the base of the lamp. Although he is just shy of 6' he was still coming up short. Not to be defeated, he hauled out a recycling bin and upturned it in the garden. He is still hopping on one foot, and teetering precariously on the box he grabs the outside Christmas tree for balance. As it threatens to topple over, Lindsay opens the window and hurls obscenities at him (I think the word she used was F*******). After a few nerve wracking minutes when I wasn't sure if he would break the tree, his leg or the front window, he managed to reclaim his shoe. It was at this point, as he stood triumphantly on the recycling bin in the midst of flattened rose bushes, clutching the floor lamp, that his father pulled in the driveway with Sid. To Rob's credit, he didn't give Grady a second glance, and that people is how we roll in our house.

What Grady Did Next

Probably about time for another Grady escapade. We picked Lindsay up from Guelph on Friday evening. While she and her father were gathering her belongings, Sid and I waited in the van. That left Grady up to his own devices. His eyes alit on the huge recycling bin at the top of the driveway and he decided it would be brilliant fun to hide in it and jump out at his unsuspecting sister. First he had to get in the bin. Using his phone as a flashlight he checked out the inside to see if it was "icky". I guess it wasn't enough to put him off and he proceeding to attempt to climb in. I should say at this point I was telling him to cease and desist but he wouldn't listen. He wheeled the bin over to the neighbours side of the drive and proceeded to climb on their retaining wall to use it as a launch pad. It was soon evident this wouldn't work, as once he got one leg in, the bin would start to roll away, leaving him balanced precariously doing the splits. He called for Sid's help, and she was only to happy to oblige. I'm not sure whether her intentions were to help him or injure him, but suffice to say it didn't go well and Grady was forced to hide behind the bin instead. At long last Lindsay left the house and sauntered past the recycling bins, the moment Grday had been waiting for. He leapt out, but alas Lindsay didn't even flinch however she did call him a very rude name. Poor Grady all that work for naught.

Lost And Found

 My son is a Numpty, (certain people have taken exception to the fact I call him an asshole so I thought numpty sounded nicer). Rob and I were at an appointment this afternoon so we told Grady we could pick him up after his Robotics Club. First text we get "Robotics cancelled", followed immediately by "Going to library", followed by "Nope, I'm going home". Soon after, we are on our way back home and I call my son to see if his plans had changed again, but no, he told me he was already halfway home. A few minutes later I get a panic stricken call "Mum, I'm lost come and get me", stunned silence and then my reply, "How the fuck can you get lost walking home from school ?" It turns out he had walked with (soon to be ex) friends. They told him they were taking a short cut through HERITAGE - Grady assumed they were referring to the Heritage House which is a restaurant round the corner from the end of our street, so he tagged along. Ten minutes later as they were trekking through HERMITAGE park, Grady realised his error, and that he was actually heading away from home. He had no idea where he was, so tried using the GPS on his phone but it took him even further away. That was when we received the panicked call and we had to go looking for him. Now can I call him an asshole ?

Skunked Updated

Update on the skunk debacle. Otis smells much better - but considering how bad it was before, he couldn't smell any worse. Come nightfall, each time before letting the dogs out, with the intent of scaring off any erstwhile wildlife, Rob now proceeds to walk up and down the garden, clanging a large brass bell. All he is is missing is yelling "Hear Ye. Hear Ye". Our neighbours, unaware of the recent episode, probably think he's lost the plot.

Skunked

 So, 11:45 PM Saturday night, Rob has been asleep for a couple of hours and I'm watching TV. Grady has friends over, and they are all outside enjoying themselves around the firepit. One of the guys casually mentions to Grady, I think your dog is playing with a skunk. Thats right. PLAYING. WITH. A. SKUNK. The outcome was inevitable. I heard a commotion and picked up the words "dog"and "skunk", and as soon as the back door opened, my worst fears were confirmed. I dispatched Grady to rouse his father. Waking Rob at that time of night is not a task for the faint hearted, and no way was I going to be the one to wake him up with that kind of news. Grady gently shook his father awake and then wisely took a step back and whispered "Otis got sprayed by a skunk" and took another step back. Meanwhile I'm frantically googling homemade remedies to get rid off the skunk stench, and Rob dashes off at to a 24 hour Shoppers Drug Mart to stock up on peroxide and dish detergent. He's lining up to pay and the woman at the counter views his purchases and helpfully informs him "You're gonna need baking soda with that." My husband replies "Is it that obvious ?" She wrinkles her nose and said "Yep"

Meanwhile back at home, Gradys friends have quickly abandoned the garden and are huddled, gagging at the front door, as far away as possible. Once Rob returns with supplies, he and Grady set about mixing the concoction in the kitchen. All pretences of following a "recipe" are abandoned as they dump bottles of peroxide and dish detergent and a box of baking sofa into a large bowl. The three of us (Sid was doing a pretty convincing job of pretending to be asleep) glove up and venture outside. Poor Otis had no idea what was coming. Choking and gagging we proceeded to douse the dog. Grady's friends called out a collective goodbye and beat a hasty retreat. Surprisingly the Peroxide/Dawn/Baking Soda remedy worked really well, and an hour later it was our turn to rid the odour from ourselves.

As soon as Petsmart opened this morning, Rob is off buying a vet recommend skunk shampoo and round 2 will begin shortly. Just in time to welcome the rest of the family for a turkey dinner. If you've made it to the end of this post, Happy Thanksgiving

Chihuahuas & Granny Whiskers

Me and my big mouth.  We were on our way up North,  and stopped for gas. I was driving and as usual my window was open.  Rob hopped out and started the pump, and I happened to glance at the vehicle just in front and to the left.  First there was the ugliest looking dog you have ever seen, a mean looking, pinched face, bat eared rat of a creature.  Then I noticed the passenger,  she had the visor mirror down, a pair of tweezers in her hand and she was vigourously going after her granny whiskers.  That was an opportunity I couldn't pass up so I hollered at the window at my husband, "You should see the ugly assed dog in the car next to us, and the woman is going to town on her granny whiskers".  Sid and I were having a good giggle, commenting on the dog and the woman's progress with her  tweezers.  Every now and then I'd shout out to Rob, because he was yet to answer me and so I didn't think he had heard my comments. All of a sudden, it dawned on me. If that car was next to us, then someone had to be pumping gas for that too.  Sure enough, as Rob returned to the van  he launched into a lecture. "Do you know how far you voice carries ?  I'm standing there and the other driver was right next to me and everything I heard, he heard. Couldn't you take a hint, there was a reason I wasn't answering you". So as Sid and I convulse in laughter

Double Hip Replacement

This experience was a few years ago now, but never made it further than Facebook until now....

So the big day arrived yesterday with an early morning wake up call at 4:45. I figured nothing the surgeon could throw at me would be worse than that. I so hate it when I'm wrong. We made it to the hospital in record time and after Rob nearly tipped me off the curb in my wheelchair, we discovered the admissions dept wasn't open for another half hour. Once they did, they ushered me into a small room where the nurse gave me the pre-requisite robes and then turned and said "Here is a BIG pair of pants" Yes really. I was so not impressed. After I changed into the robes, BIG pants, booties and with my hairnet at a rakish angle, Rob decides to capture it on film - and no I wont be sharing that. I decided my husband had far too much fun at my expense and sent him off to pick up Lindsay in Guelph. Next up was the IV - which took three people three attempts. Somewhere through that ordeal I passed out. I guess that is a big no no in hospital, as I was suddenly surrounded by a bevy of concerned nurses. The one who had been filleting my hand with the IV needle was stroking my face asking if I was still with her. I swear if someone told me not to go towards the light I was out of there. From there I perfected a hop step dance to the OR desperately trying to hold up my BIG pants. As soon as I entered the OR, there was a chorus of cheerful hellos and how are yours, as if they weren't about to slice and dice me. My next ordeal, was the spinal block and epidural. Two anesthesiologists worked on me, stabbing me five or six times to find the right spot. That wasn't so bad until one of them asked for the 5" needle. FFS if you going to stick that in me, at least use a code name for it. Next up the surgery, very enlightening hearing the buzzing of the bone saw and the hammering of the spikes in my femur. I say spikes, because he tried a few sizes based on the amount of hammering. Unfortunately my bone cracked and had to be wrapped in wire for support. I see many a TSA pat downs in my future. Because of that unsuspected development, the surgery took twice as long and the freezing was wearing off by the time to do my second hip and I could feel the surgeon drawing on my leg with a sharpie. I explained that to the cheery chap looking after me, and he told me not to worry, he'd sedate me. That must have worked because the last thing I remember is asking him if i could take my sawn off joints for Grady. Apparently not, who knew they were a bio hazard. In recovery i was introduced to a very chatty nurse. I asked for a cup of water. She spent the next half hour telling me about her ex-husband, his new wife, her estranged children and her mortgage situation. I never did get the cup of water. At least Lindsay and Rob were able to visit me while a waited for a bed. Once in the room, Rob trekked off to the van to retrieve my bag. Whilst he was gone Lindsay proceeded to regale me of the trips her dad took her on around the hospital, in preparation for her visit today. "I'm 20" she told me huffily, why does he think i will get lost". Rob arrived back a few minutes later but without my glasses. Lindsay offered to go back and get them. Five minutes later, Robs phone rings. You've guessed it, Lindsay is lost and hasn't made it out the building. Good job she is studying Hospitality and not cartography. So there are good days and there are bad days, and then there are days that could only happen to me