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4 kittens

Upholstery fabric being exactly right

Posted on 2016.06.19 at 22:51
On Thursday morning,  I opened the back door to the deck, to get Ace's towel from the railing. A man was curled up in one of our green plastic porch chairs, facing away, the back of his head maybe a foot from where I stood.  He was just wearing a bathing suit, and wrapped in our towels and Hokey Pokey's bathrobe. His hair was cut like Jammies', and for a second I couldn't understand why Jammies was sleeping on the porch. The man snored. I realized it was not Jammies and slammed the door shut.  Heart in throat, adrenaline coursing, wild-brained, etc. It was quite a jolt.

Pokey was with me. I called Jammies and told him there was someone on our deck. "I'm turning around and coming home," said Jammies.  It was about 6 am. "I'm calling 911," I told him.

One of my thoughts was, "Does this happen all the time?!" After all, I never go out on the back deck in the morning. Does he crash here often?

I called 911. Pokey was quaking and frightened, but by now I was feeling more relaxed again - the guy was solidly asleep, snoring loudly. I described the guy, and said he was passed out and could someone please get him elsewhere? E. Messily woke up, the kids woke up, we all hung out at the front of the house. The cop showed up. It took him several minutes of trying before he could get the man to rouse. Clearly the guy was super drunk last night, in his bathing suit from the river, and couldn't find the house he was looking for. None of it was particularly scary, but if our door had been unlocked, we might have found him on our couch. Lock your doors, folks.

Afterwards, the cop asked us if it was our towel, and we said it was. About ten minutes later, the cop came back with our towel. We put it in the washing machine.

"But seriously, why didn't he take the couch instead of the chair?" wondered E. Messily, "If I were sleeping out there, I'd take the couch." Also she is very tickled that I thought it was Jammies for a moment, by the idea that Jammies could be fake-having a job. That each morning, he clears his throat and calls out, "I'm off to work, honey! With my briefcase and professional demeanor!" and then shuts the door and sneaks around to the back of the house, to snooze in his bathing suit and enjoy the day.

It is kind of funny!

On Friday we drove to Grapevine, Texas, to stay at the Gaylord Texan Hotel with my California brother and his family. The Gaylord Hotel is a study in knock-off classiness. It has all the hallmarks of class anxiety - grandiose scale and inflated price tags - but no actual class. Here is a completely fake tree in the atrium:

We spent most of the weekend at the affiliated water park.  Blaring music, sensory overload. Riding around the circular lazy river felt a lot like doing laps at the roller rink:  "Let's Hear It For the Boy!" and jostling along cheek to jowl with all these strangers in their tubes.

See the Texas Flag bucket at the top of this structure? (via)

The bucket is probably the size of a small bathroom. Those longhorns continuously fill that giant bucket up with water. Every three or four minutes it tips over. It is like an explosion - loud, overwhelming, and a little painful if you're directly underneath.  Ace wanted no part of it, and spent a large part of the weekend under the umbrellas at the table.

My brother pointed out that our kids are super cuddly and constantly want to be in our laps, snuggling, sleep next to us, and so on.  I have taken this for granted. He said that his kids climb on him, but they almost never calm down and cuddle. I am glad to have this drawn to my attention - how nice to have cuddly kids! Let's all nuzzle.


Father's day!  Hawaii made Jammies a shirt:

and a card:

"Happy father-daughter, lovey-dovey, rosey-tosey, super-duper, Texas peanut perfect Father's Day!" That's pretty poetic, Hawaii!  She was very pleased with herself.


The kids have been funny:
1.  Hawaii thought the song was called "Hopeless" instead of "Helpless".  Pokey thought the song was called "The Boomberry Happens" instead of "The Room Where it Happens". Yes, all we listen to is Hamilton.

2. "Then one day, James's mother and father went to London," I read to the kids, from the opening scene of James and the Giant Peach,  "to do some shopping, and there a terrible thing happened. Both of them suddenly got eaten up, in full daylight mind you, and on a crowded street, by an enormous angry rhinoceros which had escaped from the London Zoo."
Pokey rolled his eyes and huffed. "Rhinoceroses are vegetarians," he said scornfully. True!
"They must have been really angry, then!" I told him.  (Also deer eat meat. Occasionally.)

3. Ace said, "I snabbed it out of your hand!" which is a nice portmanteau onomatopoeia, or as they say, portmanamatopoeia. Port-mahna mahna-poeia.  I hope snabbed catches on.

4. Rascal really likes Brown Bear. He turns the pages at breakneck speed, and you sort of give up on reading, until he gets to this page:

This is his favorite page. He lets you read it, and then he quizzes you on them, pointing to the different animals out of order. He likes to stay on this one page forever, pointing around and commanding your attention.

Also I love this video:


I had an appointment with a plastic surgeon. This is the guy that came and talked with me immediately before surgery. He is so nice and caring and is very enthusiastic about my tattoo plans (unlike the surgeon who did the actual surgery, Mr. Are-you-triple-sure? quadruple-sure? double-secret-probation-sure-you-don't-want-reconstruction?)

Here are possibilities: a scar revision for the hypertrophic portion of the scars, fixing the small poochiness on both sides, and fat injections for some of the dents and boniness. I would like to do the scar revision and de-pooch the pooches. The fat injection requires liposuction, and apparently I'd need to take a week off work and then be sore for two more weeks and I guess I'm a big surgery wimp, but the dents don't seem bad enough to warrant liposuction.


I bought suit fabric. I settled on this blue floral:

I wanted the suit to be both ridiculous and dignified. It turns out that upholstery fabric is exactly right for balancing those two impulses.  I felt well-understood by the couch people.


(Anonymous) at 2016-06-20 14:10 (UTC) (Link)


I've got a four-and-a-half year old whose favorite Hamilton song is also "The Boomberry Happens" - nice to know she is in good company! To
heebie_geebie at 2016-06-27 03:23 (UTC) (Link)

Re: Hamilton

Really! That's funny - it's hard for me to hear the song wrong. I'm tickled.
(Anonymous) at 2016-06-21 23:45 (UTC) (Link)


I had a drunk (maybe college kid? maybe homeless man?) snoring on my front porch once many years ago when my girls were little. We heard snoring through the wall of the house and couldn't figure out was going on, but eventually I wandered outside for some reason and there he was in all his passed out glory. Didn't even think to call the cops--just flew into a rage and started cussing him out, telling him to get the f off my porch, I'm calling the cops (I guess I did think of calling the cops, but as a threat, not a first course of action), yadda yadda. Poor guy was confused as hell being woken out of a sound stupor by a belligerent burly dude shouting and cursing at top volume. I think the vociferous nature of my response was so confusing to him that it actually took him longer to process that he really just needed to get up and leave and all the commotion would stop. If I'd woken him gently I bet he would have been gone in 15 seconds instead of the two minutes of shouting it took. One of only a very few times in my life I have flown into immediate puffed-up alpha-male rage. Disconcerting.
heebie_geebie at 2016-06-27 03:23 (UTC) (Link)

Re: Chopper

I can understand that. I did have a bit of a mama-bear response at the very beginning, although it wasn't anger exactly. Pokey seemed frightened which probably did more to get me to reel it in than anything else. But the adrenaline lasted a long time.
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