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Mishaps and Mayhem, check

2010 January 8
by Pamela

The weather outside is frightful, but inside it’s so deligh – mmm, not so much.

It all started out innocently enough. Bob’s working, Mary Claire is at a sleepover at Baczi and Puppa’s house, so Elizabeth and I are hanging out alone. Which is basically code for “I’m counting down the minutes until Lizzie goes to sleep ‘cuz she’s driving me batty with all her whining”.

I wanted to finish cleaning the kitchen before she went to sleep, so I decided to employ a sometimes necessary tactic: bribery. Bribery in the form of a push-up; do you remember those? Orange sherbet in a cardboard cylinder with a flimsy stick at the bottom? I bought two last week during a state of desperation and decided now was the time to use it. I handed it to her and she basically shoved her whole face in it like it was a pie eating contest and first prize was a trip to New Orleans with Barney.

I was patting myself on the back for my ingenuity when the dog starts barking wildly and the phone starts ringing simultaneously. My neighbor was on the phone, frantic because her daughter was missing. She had been outside plowing snow and her daughter, Mary Claire’s BFF, was inside watching a show. When my neighbor went in, her kiddo was no where to be found.

So I open the front door to look outside for little girl “A” and Sam the dog plows out and literally runs right across the street. It’s snowing so hard that I lose sight of her immediately. So now we have a missing five-year-old and a missing dog. I try to throw on my boots, pry the sherbet out of Elizabeth’s hands, and assure my neighbor over the phone that I’ll be right over. All the while I’m praying for that little girl who could be anywhere at this point and the dog who I could care less if she got lost except that someone entrusted her into our care.

Lizzie is screaming like I cut off her arm and frankly I’m about to because SHE WILL NOT LET GO OF THE PUSH-UP. She is orange and sticky all over her face, hands, and arms so I rinse her off in the sink quickly, throw her coat on, and head outside. I’m hollering for Sam, Elizabeth’s hollering for sherbet, and our OTHER neighbor hollers “Looking for your dog? She’s in our backyard!” Just then the one with the missing girl comes out and says she’s calling the police. She’s combed the house three times and “A” is not in it.

Then the neighbor who rescued my dog says, “Oh, you’re looking for “A”? She’s in our house. She came over and asked if she could play with our daughter”. He had no idea she didn’t have permission from her Mama. And her Mama was snowplowing and didn’t see her daughter slip out of the house.

I am so thankful the crisis is averted, whisper a prayer of thanks, and try to remember what I was doing previously that was so important. A crisis has a way of bringing a certain perspective to things.

I still want to tackle my To-Do list though and the last thing on my list is to vacuum the family room. I hate our vacuum. It’s really, really hard to push and it’s super loud. Every time I start it, no joke, I pray that it will break. So I’m dragging the stupid thing around the family room and suddenly POP! and it dies. I’m not kidding, I did a little dance right then. Finally, after 6 stupid freaking years, the dinosaur died. Plus Bob just called to say he was working over-time the next day which I translated as “Dyson”. I was so thrilled that I didn’t even care that only half of the floor was clean.

Then I look over at Elizabeth and her face is black. It was orange from sherbet but now it’s black black. She had been digging in a plant, apparently the entire time I was vacuuming. And smearing the black dirt on her face and all over the part of the carpet that WAS clean.

Bob stopped in at that very moment and I gave him a quick re-cap of How The Dinosaur Died and Now I Get a Dyson Because You’re Working an Over-time Day Tomorrow Right? He said sure, let’s buy a Dyson and I danced a little bit again. Then he asks why half the lights are off.

“A” and the dog are safe. The Dinosaur is back from the dead, thanks to Bob discovering the skipped circuit breaker which is what caused it to POP and still live another day. Happy ending right? But I’ll still dance the Gig of All Gigs when the Dinosaur dies.

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3 Responses leave one →
  1. Ellen permalink
    August 19, 2010

    Pam – go and buy the Dyson – you owe it to yourself! It will last and last and that’s a good thing. Throw the dinosaur away – break it yourself – whatever you have to do. Not to worry, in the light of eternity, it’s a small thing! Remind me to tell you some stories!

    • Pamela permalink*
      August 20, 2010

      I love your stories Ellen. They always make me feel better!

  2. Ellen permalink
    August 24, 2010

    When we lived on Stout St, I had a kitchen floor that I HATED! It was old and never looked clean and never looked dirty – It was ugh……. but it had a little bitty tear at the seam. Pat kept saying we couldn’t afford a new floor but every time I washed the floor, the hole got a little bigger. Probably cause I worked at it. One day, he tripped on it and lo and behold, we could afford a new beautiful shiny blueish floor. Isn’t it amazing!!!

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