I was a mixed bag this weekend. Only a few exceptional events, but I'll mix them in with the rest of the tripe so you'll have to shake them out. You know, like searching through that box of cereal to find the toy inside or dredging through the peanut-butter to see if there are really 1.5 flies per jar. Nope, those are raisins ... of course. So, Friday the Cubs and I went to the Radio station for an hour and gobbled up pizza after wards. They had a good time storming and occupying the broadcast center, and even more so antagonizing the tour director. Of course, this just got my Twin Tyrants all ramped up for Dodge Ball Friday. Glad they can take out their frustrations on each-other without having them come back to me with complaints of 'he said/she said'. Nope, just unmitigated violence and revenge. Next day: nothing. Just slouched about the Manor but I did manage to fill the SuperSaturn POS with 10 gallons of NJ gasoline. I give the Mrs a set of 5gal canisters and she buys two weeks worth of fuel for me at 10-15 cents off per gallon while she tanks up. In exchange, I top off the fluids in the Family Tank v2.0 and toss in some fuel conditioner to boot. She completes me: I service her vehicle and light her fire; she gives me gas. Speaking of gas and fires .... this
may be of interest to some of you (and it was for me since my obsessive compulsive ranting about gas prices). Sunday is the usual: Church, Sunday School, Bring in firewood, Prep meals for the week. The Mrs actually made the PB&J sandwiches for them this time ... and cut off ALL the crusts. Ghengis will not be pleased, he likes the crusts. Odd child. So all of Sunday was just in preperation for the work week. No big shocker there, except that the Tyrants had President's day off on Monday so I'd be sitting it out with them.
And along comes Monday, I cook, I clean, I entertain. Since is it a semi-national holiday, the swim-team practice is called off: School closed = no pool access. Fine. After my domestic duties conclude, we go through the regular 'swim at club/tsd at studio' routine. Everything is domestic bliss till some time after O'Dark-Thirty. Jake saunters into the master bedroom where the Mrs is settling into the mile-wide bed for a little shut-eye. He makes himself comfortable and then proceeds to produce about 200 metric liters of semi-digested, fully masticated vomit. How in the world!? He ate his dinner at 1500 hours and now he has issue? He must have been fermenting that batch of bile and 100 molar hydro-sulfuric acid for quite some time. So, the Mrs and I manage hose down and mop up ... he felt better but we needed some serious air-freshener to detoxify the master suite. The next morning, he was chipper as can be but I was still down a pillow. You know you are getting too soft when you need two pillows to sleep right.
Labels: Gas, Illness, Swimming, Tang So Doo, Weekend