More Prodigal reptiles

Quite a few times our tutles have runnoft.  2/3 of them have returned.  Starshine is still AWOL.  If you find a grape-fruit sized Southeastern Box Tortoise in Southeast Eugene, please give her lots of snails and be warned that she will live 40-80 years, depending on where you get your information.  I failed to research Turtles before I said yes.  Lesson Learned.

More recently the Leopard gecko when AWOL about 6 weeks ago, (See 2 posts previous).  We tore the house apart and had given up hope.  Meanwhile, life has gone on.  The hooligans have been up to various hijincks, particularly playing war, riding skateboards (with helmets), sneaking off to the corner store for candy every possible chance, and going off to sleep away camp at the beach this whole week.

In their absence, the house has been very quiet.  It is clean and peaceful.  I have been staying up late doing various projects.  Tonight I shuffled into the kitchen for water when something caught my eye  peeking out from under the stove.

The words MOUSE!RAT!ROACH! were flying at me-- it was none of these.  I know my mouse rat roach--I lived in Baltimore for 4 years, after all.   It was a yellow and black speckled head-- indubitably the gecko.  

The Man Who Lives In My House was right behind me when he heard me croak, "Lizard!"

He knelt down and peered under the stove, "She's right there!   Run up and turn on the heat rock, Kate!"

I didn't think she'd opt to crawl into his hand, but I was wrong.   Everyone loves TMWLIMH: my mother, the dog, the kids, even the lizard.

The Larger Hooligan will return to a clean, purged, and re-arranged bedroom, with his lizard restored to the tank on his dresser.

I think he may forgive me for touching his stuff.

Reptiles were not in the fine print

Neither was football, but that's another post.

A perfectly horrible day, kicked off by the younger hooligan crying quietly int his waffles as he comtemplated what to write in his teacher's end-of-the-year thank you card.  He loves his teacher, loves school and hates goodbyes.  Every year we go through this, but usually it doesn't happen until the last bell rings.  This teacher is particularly spectacular.

Meanwhile, upstairs in the lair of the 12 year old, the gecko was missing.

Hysteria ensued.

I have trouble relating to the affection my elder son feels for his gecko. But there it is.  And the social studies final was set to commence in a mere hour.  How was he ever going to remember details of ancient chinese dynasties when the lizard was not in her proper place.

If he hadn't yelled at the smaller hooligan when he came to help search, I would have had more sympathy.  Even without sympathy, I spent the entire morning excavating all the dust/spare change etc. from under every bed, bookcase etc. upstairs.  To no avail.  At least it's a lot cleaner.

I have been accused of being glad she is gone.  I am not, if only because now I will worry that she is going to re-appear, say, in my hair at one in the morning.

Sleep well!

Big shoes to fill

I just ordered two pairs of navy blue converse low tops, size 10 and 10.5, mens, for the Larger Hooligan.  It occured to me that just 2 years ago, we wore the same shoe size-a women's 8, which is about a men's 6.  His feet have grown 4 sizes in two years.  It must be painful.  It is certainly painful on the budget.

At least he has good taste.  It's a pity we can't share anymore.

More like barbed wire than velveteen.

This bunny glared at me from the shelf:

 

"Buy me!"  He snarled.  So I did.  Isn't he fierce?  I was quite intimidated.  He reminded me of someone:

I send him to my nephew with a note:

Dear Cupcake,
Please keep a close eye on this bunny.  He is very fierce.  He bit me.  Happy Easter!
Love, Aunt Kate


They get along very well.

Post auction Post

I have not exploded, nor has my house been condemned and my children removed by the state-  although I would not welcome a social worker just yet.  I am slowly restoring order to my normal life.  I don't really feel like it, though.  What I feel like doing is counting the money and crowing.


We raised a record $27,000 at the auction this year.  And it was a fun party, which is just as improtant as the fund raising, in my opinion.

Take Cover

The Smaller Hooligan: "I kind of need a haircut."
Me:  "Ok, as soon as the auction is over next Friday, we'll get you a haircut."
Smaller Hooligan:  "Everything has to wait until after the auction."
The Man Who Lives In My House:  "Mom's not even going to go to the bathroom until the auction is over."
Me:  "Yeah, next Saturday I am going to explode."
TMWLIMH:  "It would be best if you did that somewhere far away, like maybe at an ordinance range."

C6H12O6 Negotiations

The Smaller Hooligan deigned to accompany to the grocery store.  I sent him to the cereal aisle to make selections.

"Pick out anything you like that's under 7 grams of sugar,"  I cautioned.
He narrowed his eyes at me, "How about 14?"
"10, and not a speck more."
The deal was struck.

He was gone a long time.  I got the chicken, milk, sour cream, eggs, ran into a neighbor--we were bemoaning the school budget woes at length when he re-appeared, empty handed.

"You couldn't find a cereal you like under ten?"
"No, You know that kind they were advertising on TV in the hotel with the cavemen?" (that would be fruity/cocoa pebbles--he is not acquainted with The Flintstones) "Well I found it, and the fruit kind has only 9 grams, but It looks like I'd be eating a pink turd.  Why would I want to eat that?"

An excellent question.

He was very cross.  It was as if those wily advertising agents had promised him a gift that he'd looked forward to eagerly, which had turned out to be gross.

We settled on mini-wheats and special K.

I think I won this round.