Sweet Cracker Sandwich...

40, originally uploaded by Leo Reynolds.

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How did this happen?
:)

Y'all Tired About Reading About Vermin, Yet?

'cause I'm obviously not tired of writing about it...

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Ah, yes - all is back to what passes for normal here at the House That Crazy Built*.

Another day, another thing in the house that is not supposed to be in the house.

You all remember that first there was the mouse.

Then there was the 'possum baby.

Then there was the bird.

And today, a repeat: another mouse.
(Stupid 100-year old house that obviously has lots of entry points for small beasties...)

The good news?
I seem to be getting braver. I "trapped" this one with a piece of cardboard and a piece of Tupperware - and I managed to get it outside and released in the nearby park without any squealing at all.

It helped that this little guy was the cutest thing ever.





This is him on the cardboard, once I de-Tupperwared him.
Too bad I didn't have the presence of mind to put a quarter or something down beside him to give you a sense of scale. He was wee-bitty. Smaller than my thumb...
(but, in the interest of full disclosure? I've got big ole thumbs...)

The cardboard and the Tupperware were both promptly and sadly relegated to the trash can.
(Mostly because I'm sure that no amount of dishwashing/bleaching/sterilizing is going to get Hanta virus cooties out of plastic...)

It's kind of sad to admit that to my mind this indicates a return to "normalcy"...

Lately things have felt off kilter here - seems like there's been too much going on, and not enough time in the day.
I won't bore you with all the details - it's nothing you all aren't already familiar with (PTA, sick kid, sick self, car trouble, etc.) You've all been there, done that.

Yesterday, I finally got a small break and thought "Yay! I can do some blogging!"
Only to sit in front of the computer for about 5 minutes before realized that I had Jack to say...

So thank you, tiny mouse!
Thank you for being so cute.
Thank you for giving me the impetus to sit back down at the computer and dip my toes back into the blogisphere.

And I thank you in advance for staying down in the field, and NOT coming back to The House That Crazy Built...

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*Although, not wholly normal - I set off on my walk this afternoon, and had only been walking for a few minutes when it started *snowing*! That's NOT normal for Georgia.
It continued to snow for the entire duration of my walk....

What was more typical? About 3 minutes after I got home, it stopped snowing....
So basically, the snow lasted for the length of my daily constitutional, then disappeared. Welcome to my world...

Isn't It Ironic...

I'm sure you all know what I'm talking about when I allude to the "domestic perfection blogs" - 'cause I'm sure you've stumbled across them, too.

You know the ones that I mean - the ones where you stop, and you inwardly sigh. The blogs where the homes are so gorgeous, and the recipes and the crafts always turn out perfectly, the decorating is impeccable, and the children are darling and adorable and never burp in public*.

In case you haven't noticed this yet, *this* is not one of those blogs...

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Yesterday, I wrote:

And really, when you think about it - sweet and fun (and squeaky clean)?
It's not a bad way to start off the year...

And I wrote it in all seriousness.
Because I do believe that.
It's just that the reality around here? It's a little bit different.

Let me tell you how yesterday shook out. (Please see "Editor's Note" below)
Dig if you will the picture....

I'm getting Schecky ready for school. He's fed. He's dressed. His teeth are brushed, his shoes are on. All that stands between us and the door is combing his hair.

Which I do.

GAH!

BUGS!

Yup. The Scheckster has head lice.
(His school has had a horrific problem with them this winter, and so far, he'd dodged that bullet. Our luck, it seems, had run out. GAH!)

So I jot an email to his teacher letting her know not to expect the boy, and race out to the drugstore to buy some de-bugging stuff.

That was Thing Number One.
(Not to be confused with ThingOne)

Thing Number Two -
(Not to be confused with ThingTwo)

I return home from the drugstore, to be greeted at the door by Bubba, bearing bad news. His father had just called: Gaga, Bubba's last remaining grandparent, had just passed away.
(This was sad news, but not wholly unexpected. She was doing fine when we saw her at Christmas, but in the first week of the New Year contracted pneumonia, and deteriorated shockingly quickly.)

I come in the house, throw Schecky in the shower to get him started with the debugging process, and walk Bubba to his car.

When I notice that my car - which was FINE for the trip to the drugstore - now has a flat tire. This is my car which I just got new tires for in November. This is my car which we need for the drive up to Tennessee to be with family.

This is Thing Number Three - the thing that threatens to send me over the edge.

I indulge in a moment of self-pity: "It's hard trying to be an optimist when life keeps kicking my ass," I inwardly grouse. "It's not even Nine Freaking O'Clock!"

Then I tell myself to snap out of it.
I remind myself that none of these things are earth-shattering.
Frustrating, yes. Some of them emotional and sad, yes.
But none of them are devastating.

I remind myself of one of my favorite pictures on Flickr - and I carry on.

And I spend the rest of the day making travel plans, dealing with the tire, and de-lousing my child. (and let me just say - that's a WHOLE LOT OF LOVE right there.)

And there is a light at the end of the tunnel, you know?
Bad things really do tend to happen in threes - so there was none of that pesky "waiting for the final shoe to drop" nonsense.

And there's this:




Many of you already know about my so-called luck with fortune cookies. Those that don't, you can educate yourself here.

This was a nice one to get today.

And it's particularly apt. I'm notoriously bad at asking for help, and even worse at accepting it. So this is a good reminder for me. I might even have to frame it.

And now we're off to Tennessee.
Be back soon...


***Edited to add:***

I told myself that I wasn't going to blog about this. (Which just goes to show how much my word to myself means...) But I think I'm already in a position to laugh about this.

And so please know that this is how you should read this.

I'm not looking for sympathy, or to whinge on about how bad I've got it.
It's just a somewhat wry reflection on life here at the House That Crazy Built.
(And would you look at that? It's the bossy little voice! Now it's telling you how to read my posts. Gah! Stupid bossy little voice...)

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*And yes, I know, I know - those blogs are every bit as much a fantasy as the Pottern Barn Kids catalog. It's just the face that these bloggers choose show the world. I know that. But sometimes I do buy into the fantasy that somewhere, somehow, someone has managed to achieve the wholly, truly gracious life.

You-Know-Who Strikes. AGAIN.

I swear, sometimes I feel like my kid is Calvin...

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So I mentioned Hil, whose party is tonight and for whom I made the scarf.

Not only is she a long-time friend to both me and Bubba, but she is also Schecky's friend, and favorite babysitter.
He loves her, and calls her cousin Hil.

Sadly, he can't attend the festivities tonight - it's being held at Manuel's Tavern, and he's not old enough to get in.

He and I talked about it, and he said he wanted to help with the present. We decided that we'd put the scarf in a gift bag that he was to decorate.

So I set him up with a pristine, blank bag and some sharpies. And I left him to his own devices.

My mistake...

This is what he designed for Hil's 40th birthday bag:

SIDE ONE:



Flip it over to reveal SIDE TWO:



Is this how all evil geniuses start out???

I knew I hadn't been paying enough attention when he called in from the other room: "Mommy? How do you spell 'diaper'?"

Ay yi yi...
that's my boy his FATHER's boy, Scheck.

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I was equally amused and horrified.

We decided that we'd put Hil's present in a different gift bag, and that we'd tuck his bag inside that, kind of as an extra bonus.