Weekend Excursion

The Check Engine light came on in my car again. At least this time it had the charity to not come on right as the inspection sticker expired (like it did last year). So I had the opportunity to wait a couple weeks before I took in it for an oil change. It was the same problem as last time: a faulty oxygen sensor. Luckily the one we just replaced was under warranty so we didn't have to fork over another large chunk of change to have them replace it. Which really ticks me off because the freaking most expensive sensor costs a little over a hundred bucks online. Maybe I ought to take an auto mechanics course, then I can rip people off for hundreds of dollars in labor.

Next time that light comes on I'm going to disconnect it.

Maggie called and told me that she and Beth and all the kids were going to Mom and Dad's on Saturday and there was going to be a potluck cookout there as well. Happily the car got fixed in the nick of time so we were able to go. Papaw's house is Henry's absolute favorite place. They have a pond with ducks and kayaks, a giant tree with enough swings in it for every grandkid, trails through the woods, and best of all, cousins right down the road. After the cookout Ben and I set up a tent and we spent the night with Henry beside the pond.

Before we left I asked Henry if he needed to use the bathroom. He said no. Then after we got settled in our sleeping bags came the inevitable, "I have to pee."

"Go outside and pee in the woods."

Henry took about two steps from the tent.

"No, over by the woods."

Finally Ben shined the flashlight on a spot far enough away from the tent and told him to pee on the light.

Then as he's peeing he asks, "What's that smoke?"

"It's steam," Ben answers.

For at least a half hour after we laid down Henry kept asking a million questions.

"What's that sound?"

"Frogs."

"What's that sound?"

"Bullfrogs."

"What's that sound?"

"Crickets."

"What's that sound?"

"Barking dogs."

"What's that sound?"

"An owl."

"What's that sound?"

"Daddy snoring."

After Henry fell asleep I laid awake awhile. It seemed the frogs and crickets and dogs and owl were going to keep it up all night. Especially the dogs. I figured that some puppies must have gotten stolen or something because the twilight bark went on and on and on. Either that or a raccoon was taunting them from a tree. Finally I fell asleep and woke at dawn to an alarm of a million chirping birds, frogs, bull frogs, and the twelve dozen roosters at the chicken farm across the road.

I love camping. It's so easy for me to get up in the morning. I went back to the house with Henry for breakfast. Then we all got ready and then went to church. At church there was a family who used to be in our ward in Cary. I asked Mom if they had moved into the ward but she didn't know. Turns out they were just visiting. They told us they'd just seen a couple that reminded them of us, a tall guy and a short dark haired chick (we actually met that couple at the cookout) and said to each other, "Wow, they look like the Tilleys," and then we walked in right after. It is weird finding out you have doppelgangers out there. I have a feeling we're the evil version, though.

Henry, true to form, screeched bloody murder when it was time to go home. The good side to having to listen to Henry scream, "I don't want to go!" four million times is that it wears him out so well he sleeps for the rest of the ride home. Unfortunately when he woke upon our arrival home, he remembered quite well that he hadn't wanted to leave Papaw's house and commenced pitching another fit.

Good times.

Return of the Little Brown Bat

Last year while perusing the attic for some item or another, I happened to look up at the screen that covers the gable and noticed a tiny resident nestled up under a ventilation slat. A Little Brown Bat, from what I could tell from pictures on the internet. This photo is from the internet; I have never had even the slightest interest in touching it, let alone get my picture taken with it. I pretty much left it alone because it couldn't get into the attic because of the screen and I figured maybe it would help keep down the mosquitoes and other undesirable bugs that plague this area. Then that winter he took off and I forgot about him. Today as I was fetching a tape measure off the shelf next to the attic gable, I saw that the little bat was back. Henry came in behind me and I showed him the bat but didn't let him get near it. I pointed it out with a screwdriver because he was a little hard to see. I gently poked the screen with the screwdriver to see if the bat would move and it peed it little bit. I'm not sure if it was a coincidence or if I scared the pee out of it. At any rate, I was grossed out and got the tape measure and left.

When Ben got home I remembered the bat and reported it's return to the attic and described the peeing incident. Then Ben got dead serious and said I can catch rabies from it's pee. That made me laugh out loud big time. Then Ben got on the internet and found evidence that called his theory bunk, thank goodness. Not that the pee even got near me or the screwdriver. We looked in the attic but the bat was gone, so hopefully it really did get scared and won't be coming back. I guess we could stick a fan up there and that'd do the trick. Maggie told me one time that Dad found a bat hanging around the porch and laced into it with a can of Raid bug spray and then squashed it with a rock. Even though I was horrified by the brutality of its death, it still made me laugh to think of Dad hosing a bat with a can of Raid. He's very resourceful.

Yesterday I had fun chopping weeds and saplings with hedge clippers. The neighbors next door are selling their house and I didn't want prospective buyers to think we're slobs. It may be true, but they don't really need to know that just yet. The side of our yard slopes down really bad towards the neighbor's property such that you can't safely mow it, hence it's allowed to go natural, being full of trees and bushes so there are always saplings and stuff coming up all over the place. As I was grooming the jungle between our houses I happened to look up and came face to face with a huge poison ivy vine hanging down from the tree. I backed away and went inside and washed up. Last thing I need is a poison ivy rash.

Now that I think of it, I have taken a few crazy risks this week. I mean, I was cutting weeds in shorts, right next to a pile of sticks and tree limbs that could've been full of snakes, I poked a bat, well a screen next to a bat, I taught Henry the rules of Uno. I guess that last one wasn't so risky, but it did try my patience.

Revolting Saga

Here's a nauseating tale:

Ben's been battling an on and off again sore throat for like three weeks now. Ignoring my advice, he decided to forgo a doctor's visit in the name of saving a buck.

"What if you have strep?" I ask.

He looks at me dismissively. His classic line of thinking, "The doctor will look at me and say it's a virus and charge a hundred bucks, while I can sit at home and wait out the illness for free."

Even though this had already been going on for two weeks, he kept up his stubborn stance until Wednesday at work when it really started hurting. The doctor gave him a prescription for some stuff people take for allergies, which I thought was weird because every throat problem I've had has been quickly taken care of by an antibiotic. Anyway, to make a long story short, I had to take Ben to an Ear Nose and Throat specialist today, mainly because his esophagus quit working and he started coughing up pus, and oh yes, blood. Yum. The ENT doctor had to run a tube down Ben's nose into his throat. Diagnosis: Acute Trachyitis. He got two shots in his butt and has to take four massive horse pills a day to kill the infection. Poor Ben. It doesn't help that the medicine the first doctor prescribed gave him a rash.

Hopefully this disgusting/painful experience will convince Ben to take his health more seriously in the future.

My Kid, the Comedian

Last time I had to teach Joy School the kids and I sat around the dining room table eating our "unique" snack to go along with the lesson, which consisted of a last minute scrounge of cheerios, raisins, goldfish crackers, chocolate chips and a bag of microwave popcorn. The kids, all six of them including Henry, as they are often inclined to do during moments of calm, engaged in telling knock-knock jokes:

Knock, Knock.

Who's there?

Tommy.

Tommy who?

Tommy Chocolate Chip.

Hahhhh hah hah haaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

I smile indulgently. "You guys are funny."

You gotta love kids.

Henry has decided that he really likes the movie "Tommy Boy." Chris Farley cracks him up. The other night while Ben was out with the missionaries Henry asked to watch it so I put it on and started on a crossword. Then a while later Henry said he was hungry and asked for a slice of bread. I said okay and he brought the bread sack for me to undo the twist tie for him. As I was opening the bag a sudden premonition struck me and I handed him the end piece, which almost never gets eaten in this household unless we're completely out of everything else.

"Eat this at the table," I said. "You have to eat it all gone."

Sure enough, about two seconds later I hear Henry in the dining room, "Oohhh! I killed it! I killed my little friend!" He comes triumphantly into the living room with his ripped up bread, grinning like he knows he's the funniest kid on the planet.

This after he sang the Darth Vader/Imperial march for the Joy School talent show. I should have sent him to Joy School that morning with a piece of bread and he could have done the Tommy Boy impression instead.

Retraction

All right, I've been called down for saying I never saw my dad do housework when I was a kid. I really should have said I didn't remember seeing my dad do housework.

Mom asked me, "Don't you remember that time when I was in Gatlinburg for a month and you stayed home with your dad?"

Um, apparently not.

My sister called and said Dad had just finished doing a load of laundry when he sat down and read my blog. In my own defense, I never said Dad didn't do housework.

Sorry, Dad. You're awesome!

But don't think this is going to make me want to run to the kitchen and do the dishes.