I'm feeling out of sorts today.
Part of it's money, part of it's work, part of it may be I'm coming down from the coffee I had late this afternoon.No matter what, I'm feeling out of sorts.
I'm still struggling with this manuscript and how to take control of it, while balancing the let's-turn-this-into-a-creative-writing-peice with my intense need to get it off my plate.
And then there is my father. I saw him last night when I was at the nursing home.
I love my dad, don't get me wrong. But he sure knows how to press my buttons. Even when he isn't doing it on purpose.
He's coming with us on our vacation. He did last year, and he enjoyed it very much. But there were also more people with us to keep him occupied -- Stephen's parents, his aunt, Keith and Em were all with us. Dad spent lots of time playing cribbage with Stephen's dad, and watching me and the kids play Scrabble with Stephen's mum and aunt.
This summer it's just me, Stephen, Em and dad. My brother and his wife were going to come with us, but my sister-in-law is very, very ill. She has taken a turn for the worst and has multiple doctor's appointments next week.
Keith has been promoted to supervisor at the theater, and there are multiple theather staff weddings next week, so he couldn't get the time off.
Mer was thinking about coming, but she has just started her new job and didn't feel she was in a position to ask for a week off. Especially when that week was the week after she started.
So it's the four of us and the dogs.
Less is more, right?
As much of my last post was about my Frankie-Doodle, I think it appropriate to share his latest escapade.
Saturday morning, after Annette-the-best-dog-trainer-in-the-world, departed for another dog-addled client, I was loading the dishwasher.
Frankie LOVES the dishwasher. It is his buffet. As soon as he hears the dishwasher opening, he comes on a dead tear, waiting to "sanitize" the dishes far better than we could ever do.
This is a somewhat annoying, fighting with Frankie for space to load the dishwasher.
I am loading the dishwasher, reorganizing it because no one ever loads it the way I want it loaded. They load with the express purpose of just getting the dishes in there. . .I load it for maximum capacity.
I consider dishwasher loading an art form.
Frankie was sniffing around as usual, I am loading as usual, and Frankie somehow manages to snag his collar on a dishwasher tine.
Chaos ensued.
Frankie, naturally, panics. He starts to pull back and whine, I am trying to get a grip on his collar and untangle him. He gets louder and louder and I try harder and harder to get a grip on his collar, and then suddenly he yanks back as hard as he can.
More chaos ensues.
A cacophany of crashing plates, bouncing bowls and clanging cutlery followed. Frankie, mercifully disengaged, is running from the dishwasher, ki-yi-ying and wailing, Tikka is barking and me. . .
I'm laughing so hard I almost peed my pants.
Mer and Stephen rushing into the kitchen, Mer thinking the newly acquired china cabinet has met its end, and Stephen thinking the roof has just caved in.
Frankie is now giving the dishwasher a wide berth, growling at it each time he walks by.
Last night Stephen, Em and I saw The Other Guys. Funny film, just what we needed, but I wouldn't pay to see it again.
I love Will Ferrell. Stepbrothers was a terrible film, but the sleepwalking scene makes me laugh so hard I lose my breath.
But the very best Will Ferrel, ever, is when he impersonates Harry Caray:
www.ebaumsworld.com/videos/watch/985394
If this doesn't make you laugh, you have no soul.
Title Lyric: Breaking Dishes by Rhianna
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