Clean-Up Crew Strikes Again

Sometimes I wonder why the weirdest stuff is always happening to us.  I was pondering this last week when a thought suddenly occurred to me:  perhaps these things happen because we invite them by doing ridiculous things all the time.  They don’t seem ridiculous to us, but when I talk about them to other people, they seem surprised. 

Take our latest debacle…

First some background:  Eli has been on an obsessive fishing kick for the last few months.  He watches River Monsters and Hillbilly Hand Fishing at every opportunity (always a prudent amount, for you TV poo-pooers).  Mark has been great taking him out fishing several times a week for hours and hours.  They have been experimenting with different forms of bait.  From plastic little things to worms, to the latest thing:  raw chicken liver.

There began our problem.  I had never heard of chicken liver used for bait.  As a wimpy person, seeing it lying bloody on a rock disgusted me.  But Mark said the catfish were swarming (so were the shiny green flies).  Apparently you can buy a supply from Cub Foods.  It comes in a tub that looks like butter.

An unexpected torrential downpour cut the fishing trip short.  Mark, Eli, the fishing rods and the butter container of chicken liver went back in the van to head home.  Since there were still good livers remaining, Mark decided to refrigerate the remainder for the next trip.  Unfortunately, he noticed that the butter container was not leak-proof.  It was trailing chicken blood all over the garage floor.  Disgusted, Mark decided to toss the whole container.  He triple bagged it with some our endless supply of grocery store bags and dumped it in our garbage bin. 

Advance 18 hours.  It is Sunday and we were just returning from church and our weekly Sam’s Club run.  The temperatures were flaming into the 100s again so we were blasting the A/C.  Just as we pulled into the garage, the smell inside the car abruptly changed to “Extremely Foul”.  Something was certainly amiss.  As I unloaded the kids and carried giant boxes of cereal into the house, Mark traced the smell back to the garbage can.  It had a lid on it, but there were some air openings (like where the violent garbage man pulled the tote handle off).  He decided that the best option was to get the stinky can as far from our garage as possible. After he started to haul it, I heard an exclamation.  There was a large pool of blood on the floor under the garbage can… and a hoard of flies attacking.  The chicken livers!  They managed to get through the three bags, then out of the holes where the wheels attach to the garbage.  It looked like a slaughter house floor.  Mark took the rotten carcass garbage can outside of our garage (still too close in my opinion). 

If you look closely, you can see a mutant fly on the yellow part of the sticker.  You might have to click on this picture to enlarge it.  It is vomit-worthy.

Afterward, there of course was clean up to consider.  I thought about googling “how to clean up a large pool of blood off your garage floor” but reconsidered, just in case the FBI ever confiscated my computer.  I told Mark to just start dumping bleach all over it.  But then what do we do about all the pools of bleach?  Ah ha!  We remembered back to the gasoline spill “issue” we had several months ago.  I told Mark to throw cat litter on top of the bleach to soak it up.  Turns out it sizzles and possibly lets off toxic fumes.  We kept our garage open for hours after, though signs suggest we may have already suffered brain damage.  

Rotten blood+bleach+cat litter = Unpleasantness

After we resolved the haz mat situation (again!), we had to deal with the rotting garbage can baking in the mid-day sun.  We carried it to a nearby drop-off location.  It was a two-man job.  Since the thought of being swarming flies and blood dripping on my feet repulsed me, I filled a squirt bottle with white vinegar (I once read online that flies hate it) and liberally doused the outside of the can with it.  I felt the need to keep squirting as we carried the can.  Mark was less than pleased with this since it kept splashing all over his arms and face.  I felt fine with it.  Finally, the whole can was disposed of, the bloody cat litter mess was cleaned up and the garage was sterilized.  Disaster was mostly averted.

Since then, fishing with chicken livers has infinitely lost its appeal - my boys are back to worms. 

As I said before, it seems like these kinds of things happen to us regularly.  Do they not happen to other people?  Maybe they do but they just have enough tact not to share the disgusting details with the entire world. 

Tact.  I better google this.  

Glamour Girl

I've recently been approached (again) about writing a freelance piece for Glamour magazine.  They wanted me to share my "Casual Wear" secrets.  Here is a sample of what I submitted.

Casual Wear:  The very name conjures pictures of middle aged women in high-waisted khakis with cardigans draped effortlessly around their necks.  The modern woman wants comfort and style at a low price.

I am a creature of habit.  If I find something I like, I buy it in every color.  I also feel the need to join the Green effort and waste as little as possible (laundry soap/water).  Why change my clothes every day when I can continue to wear the same thing and be comfortable day after day?

Follow my example.  Find a pair of black yoga shorts that resemble 80s biker shorts and wear them constantly.  Even if you get some bleach on them, remember comfort is what counts (plus they age well, like jeans and wine).  There is a small possibility that your husband will groan as soon as you walk out of the closet wearing them, but you can bet he is just glad you are comfortable.  Pair them with tank tops, old t-shirts or even a sweater, if the weather warrants.  I am including an example in case you are looking for your own pair (this is an actual picture, not a stock photo).  These were affordably found at Old Navy.

There may come a time to supplement your post-work/weekend clothes collection.  I'm recommending my new favorite:  running shorts in every color.  The benefit of sporting these babies is that as you venture into public, people will assume you are a marathon runner and have recently come from a long workout (that would also explain why your hair looks like this) -  even if you are stuffing your face with a piece of Janet's Cake.  If you pick up brighter colors (as seen below), you can tell yourself they are making your legs look tanner (or distract people from noticing you haven't shaved your legs).  Again, these can be paired with any color tank top or t-shirt.  This outfit is a fan favorite.  

For those with a higher credit limit, the next style is for you.  A shirt can tell a story.  For instance, wearing a blue tie-dye t-shirt with a number of vicious looking alligators all over the front says I'm tough yet beautiful.  Believe me, no one at Wal-Mart is going to mess with you when you show up with this bad boy (shown below with black sandals that dress up any outfit).   Don't mind my hair in the picture below, I just got done training for the marathon.

It seems cruel to possess these Casual Wear secrets and not share them.  Feel free to give your husband our address so he knows where to send the thank you cards after your transformation is complete.  

We Have Clearance, Clarence

Once upon a time we were gifted two goldfish.  What many people don't know is that you have to be made of some pretty tough stuff to come live with us (or in Fat Linda's case, too dumb to know the difference).  We discussed our firm expectations with the newcomers and they seemed to "jump on board" so to speak.

Their names were hotly debated in our family.  Eli wanted to name them Spit and Spot.  We told him those were the lamest names we had ever heard of and mercilessly teased him for the rest of the night.  Then we changed their names to Barbara and Clarence Hernandez.

Turns out Barbara was a weakling because she checked out early - about a week after arrival.  She must have found it stressful living under the constant watch of a half-feral cat.  We threw her in the yard  as a warning to other wimpy fish (like in Braveheart).

Clarence turned out to be a survivor.  He lived over a month.  The kids got awfully attached to him and he and Lorenzo stayed up late every night eating soup and talking and not talking (name that movie).  Then his owners made a series of bad decisions.  We needed to clean his cloudy bowl.  Mark and Eli "fished" him out with one of those soup ladles with holes in it and put him in one of Eli's cups.  When he freaked out and started to float awkwardly, we knew we had a problem.  Mark rushed through the cleaning process and we got him back in the water as fast as possible.  But it was too late, the damage had been done.  Poor Clarence seemed to be in shock.  He might have had some kind of heart attack from the trauma.  He fought valiantly against it but eventually succumbed.  Eli was very upset (he kept calling him by his birth name - Spit).  We talked him about death and then let him say his goodbyes before sending him (Eli) up to bed.

When we got back downstairs, we found Lorenzo mourning the loss of his friend, waiting for movement, praying for a miracle.  Fat Linda lay on the floor, staring at the wall wondering when she would be able to eat again.

I've included some pictures to memorialize Clarence.  You can all feel the proper amount of grief and closure this way.

Immediately after his passing.

Lorenzo:  waiting and hoping.

Fat Linda obliviously loafing on the floor below.

The death instrument.  This time transporting him to his grave site.  

(Man, I hope we washed that thing before serving dinner)

Farewell, dear friend.  He looks so small and lonely in there.

Have fun at the local waste water treatment plant.

While you are feeling sad for our fish, you can also feel sad for what I accidentally did to Mark's plant the day after he left town.  It didn't start out looking like this.  Luckily a good drowning (sorry Clarence, no offense intended) brought this stinker back.  It obviously is more tenacious than our fish.

Like I said, the Clinton house is not for wimps... or smart cats.

Comically Scandalous

Last week I bought Eli a Marvel superhero sticker book to entertain him on a long road trip.  I found it in the kids' section at Barnes and Noble.  I was on my lunch break so I only did a quick flip-through before purchasing.  

A few days later, I was bragging about my all-star purchase to Mark and my sister.  She glanced through it for a moment before letting out a shocked exclamation.  Upon closer inspection, the superhero book contained all kinds of scandalous pictures of busty women mixed in with the gentlemen in tights and capes.  

Rather than send "the ladies" along with my confused 6-year-old, my sister was assigned the task of removing all the trashy images from the book.  I asked her to fill pages with the stickers so I could send them to unsuspecting friends.  

Apparently this is the way of the comic book world works.  I had no idea this was acceptable.  I'm not easily shocked (typically, I'm the one doing the shocking), but the masked woman thrusting her chest out while flying through the air put me over the top.  

Who draws these things?  I picture a middle aged man in his parent's basement with as set of colored pencils...  

Take a look at these... (Funny knees, look at these... remember this rhyme?  It just popped in my head.  Don't remember the first part - it's horribly offensive.)

Giving props to the bigger ladies with super powers.

Ridiculous.  Although the skinless face nearby seems to like her.

 Ah yes... the jumping, dancing Cinderella with inadequate dress fabric.

Man, I hope this post doesn't get me flagged for X-rated images.  Be watching your mail, you maybe be the lucky recipient of a sticker page.