Thursday, April 21, 2011

There is nothing so maddening as losing a pair of shoes.

We lost the baby's shoes.

His only pair. Gone.

We looked everywhere. In the closets, under the beds, in the toy box, in the kitchen cabinets. The kid is mobile and loves to put his shoes on and take them off. In fact, he takes them off every single time we're in the car.

So we looked in both vehicles. Under the seats. Under the car seat.

Nothing.

I've asked the girls to look in their rooms. And look in their rooms again.

Especially the Bean. She can be, oh, how shall I say this? A disastrous housekeeper. She could have a live warthog in her bedroom and I'd never find it. So I really zoned in on the Bean.

Did you look in your room? I mean, really look. Like, under things? Behind things?

And still nothing.

Last night I was on a mission to find those shoes. I cleaned. I organized. I set about mumbling passive comments loud enough for everyone to hear.

 I'm going to be so pissed, Bean, if I look in your room and find them!

Okay. Perhaps not so passive.

Big V chimed in, attempting to help, "We had him in your car after picking him up Friday night and I know he had his shoes on then. He had to have taken them off in your car. They must be in your car. Did you look in your car?"

Annoyed, I snipped back, Of course I have looked my car, thankyouverymuch. A thousand times I have looked in my car. My car is empty. In fact, I had the Bean clean out my car Saturday morning when she wanted to borrow it...  wait a second.... Bean. What exactly did you do with the stuff you took out of my car when you cleaned it?

"Oh. I put everything in your trunk."

* silence *

What?

"Well, I didn't know what you wanted me to do with everything so I just threw it all in your trunk."

* stunned silence *
I was stunned. Not her. She was oblivious.

Could you, uh, by chance, go out to the car, open the trunk and see if your brother's shoes are in there?

"Oh, I know his shoes are in there because I saw them when I cleaned out your car and put them in the trunk."

And yet you never thought to mention this at all during the entire week we've been looking for his shoes?

"Well, you never asked me if they were in the trunk."

* crickets *

You know what? How about you just go grab everything out of the trunk of the car and we'll start from there.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Freezer Leaks: EXPOSED!

I don't normally write about work because I'm afraid I'll get fired and let's be honest: (1) I need the health insurance, and (2) I'm not nearly as clever as Dooce and will probably never turn my firing into a multi-million dollar empire, so I was taking quite a chance yesterday by unlocking the secrets of the office freezer.

Imagine my shock (and slight horror) when, at lunch today, the boss stands up, goes to the freezer, opens it, and announces something along the lines of look at all these decrepit bananas; I shall, upon my most immediate convenience, take them home and bake them into a tasty banana bread for all to enjoy.

Say what?! I sat dazed and confused, convinced I had been exposed and surely would be fired for my satirical view of the beloved freezer. She continued to announce the 4-year old popsicles ought to be dumped.

Take a look at our newly cleaned freezer:

The brick of butter is still there.

And, so far, I'm still employed here.

So, let's celebrate by finally finding out what's being kept in that big deep freezer we also have in the office: 
  


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You might want to start brainstorming on how you're going to explain to your kids why the Easter Bunny didn't stop by this year.

What? Did you really think there really was the body of a mountain goat in there? Why on earth would we keep a mountain goat in our office freezer? You people are weird.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Secrets of an Office Freezer

Lean Cuisine and Sandwiches. Obviously, it's someone's lunch. Obviously, it's not mine since it isn't piping hot and sitting in a take-out container.

We also find an old banana that someone just couldn't dare part with.

A box of French Fries. We don't have a deep fryer, but I'm sure thawed out at room temperature those babies are tasty.

Ice cubes. Only one person uses ice cubes in the office. They must be prepared.

Cake. Trust me on this one: cake tastes better frozen.

Popsicles. No one actually eats these popsicles. At least, no one has since the fall of 2007.

A pound of butter: you never know when you'll need to move heavy office furniture. Greasing the floor helps things slide.

More old, black bananas: we feel bad wasting our rotten fruit. Please don't suggest baking banana bread because if someone hasn't had the urge to bake that in the past four years I doubt they'll find the urge now.

Ice. Lots of Ice. Ice packs. Ice cubes in a Ziploc bag. Ice cubes in a Styrofoam cup. You can never have too much ice, people!

Then there's this beast, which may or may not contain the body of a large mountain goat. Or it might just be running with absolutely nothing in it at all (every single day for the past month or so) because someone might have stock in the electric company.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Safety First

Big V says he wants to move to the country so we can have dirt bikes and shoot things. I grew up in the country and know that these things can be serious. Serious fun and serious deadly. So I told him something along the lines of you know how some men just ooze safety? Like they'd be the dad taking their kids to Hunter Safety class and impressing upon their children that guns are never, ever to be taken lightly? Yeah, you're so not that guy.

To which he was greatly offended, but then I reminded him about the time when I was mega pregnant, sitting on our front steps of our house as he test drove a motorcycle around the block and he came whipping by doing a wheelie. He giggled like a schoolgirl and I said this is why I don't think you ooze safety.

And then he got even more offended and huffed and puffed saying he was too safe.

So, ten minutes later I go out to the garage where he's cleaning out the back of his pick-up truck and he's got 18-month old Cletus the Used to be Fetus sitting nicely on the edge of the tailgate. Playing with a utility knife. With the blade exposed. And I screamed. And he quickly noticed the baby playing with the deadly weapon and snatched it out of his tiny fingers and yelled, "This doesn't count!"

But I think it totally does.