So I’m at the local Starbucks in an attempt to have some “me time” and churn out a blog article. This place is totally packed and very loud. It looks like a library on steroids. Lots of fresh faced high school kids sitting or standing around talking. I would imagine that they should be studying (it’s 8:30 on a school night for Pete’s sake!) but I don’t see many books. Hmmm, maybe this is some kind of modern teenager social gathering place. I wonder if kids still go to the mall. I’m not up on the current social habits of the over 14 crowd, I’m afraid.
OMG there is a dude here wearing sunglasses. He’s maybe late 40’s. Wonder what his deal is, is he going for the international super spy look? OMG his wife/mistress/girlfriend/female companion is wearing sunglasses too! Maybe they’re famous. I’ll have to try and get a better look at them…but how can I with the sunglasses? If only Mia were here to lick them so they’ll take them off. Hmmm, sunglasses man has a wedding band, but can’t see the lady’s hand. Oh she just changed seats. OOOOH no ring on the lady. Uh oh, I may have been spotted…look away.
OK, need to concentrate. Mental note, next time bring my iPod. So speaking of Mia, she’s entered a destructive phase lately. So far nothing of huge value, however no roll of toilet paper is safe in my home unless it’s well out of reach.
Sunglasses lady just left. Hope they’re not plotting to blow the place up.
Mia has developed a penchant for stealing stuff out of the kid’s bath tub. I knew she liked to go in there, after the kids are bathed and root around, but I didn’t know the extent of her thievery until I went into Perry’s room the other day. I discovered her cache. On the floor was a stack of assorted tub toys, shampoo and bubble bath bottles and the combined shredded remains of a Perry pull-up and a roll of toilet paper.
The other day I found Perry’s Magic Ankle medicine in the back yard. Another victim of Mia thievery. Magic Ankle Medicine, you ask? Well, Perry is the master of stalling at bedtime. So he decided that his ankles were hurting him, therefore, he couldn’t sleep in his bed. He had to sleep in my bed, where his ankles were A-ok. I devised said M.A.M. to quell that concern, and now it’s part of the nightly routine (It’s just baby Vick’s Vapo-rub). His current bedtime stalling plot involves asking for a carrot at the critical moment when I’m about to leave the room. He knows I won’t turn down a request for a vegetable (the kid lives off pasta and waffles) and it takes time for me to peel it and for him to eat it. Smart little devils, my kids.
Sunglasses lady just came back in; apparently she had stepped out to take a phone call: the plot thickens. Was it her hubby? Her terrorist cell leader? Paparazzi? Maybe I should wear sunglasses so I too can look dangerous and exotic.
Last night I went to bed early. Mia was in the living room, chewing on an extra thick CET Chew. I try to give her the thickest one and the little old ladies the thinner ones. It often fails because: clearly, Katelin and Scully’s are the best. If I was smart, I’d give Katelin or Scully the thick ones and Mia the thin one so she can get the proper one via thievery, but usually by that time of night, I’m not ready to think that hard.
Anyhow, Mia was chewing her chew when I went to bed. Usually she follows me to bed, but this time she didn’t. I didn’t think much of it and maybe an hour or so later, she jumped onto the bed. Throughout this time, the little voice in my head gently reminded me that a quiet Mia is a bad Mia. I ignored it of course.
This morning, I got up and there was carnage on the couch. Mia had apparently finished her chew and moved on to a now unidentifiable wicker thing. There was just a pile of wicker pieces. I think it was the remains of the remote control basket, but I’m still not sure. Fortunately we never store the remotes in the remote basket so they were safe somewhere between the couch c cushions. Interspersed with the wicker remnants were the shredded remains of a Hi-C juice box. I sure hope it was empty when she got a hold of it. Guess she finished her little rampage and flounced off to bed, innocent as a lamb.
No vomit so far, the wicker seems to be agreeing with her.
She ate the whole container of crawfish food the other day without as much as a gurgly stomach. (Did you know we have a pet crawfish? His name is Etoufee. He eats peas and shrimp pellets and lives with a couple of goldfish that are too big for him to kill. He killed his other buddies. He’s not very nice.)
Did I tell you Mia is still trying to figure out when and when not to be a guard dog? Every night I go to bed before the husband. Mia always (unless she’s getting into trouble) comes with me. Every night when the husband comes to bed, Mia barks her big mean bark like she’s going to kill him. Every night the husband has to yell at her: “Mia, it’s me. If the bad guy knows your name, he’s not a bad guy”. Eventually she settles down. Last night he worked late and I left the bedroom door open. When the back door clicked, she shot out of bed like a bullet; I thought she was going to attack him! I didn’t hear any screaming so I guess she didn’t.
It’s funny though, because for all her bravado, she is just a big chicken. Somebody barks at the door, and she lets loose a volley of big deep scary barks and heads towards the door. But when it comes down to it, she lets Scully and Katelin run interference and she runs to where I am and continues barking. Like she’s telling them: “ok, you guys handle it, call me if you need me”.
OK, the teens are leaving. Actually one of our baby teen vet-wannabe girls just came in for some geometry tutoring. At least there are some kids here to study. See: people who become vets are extra smart and studious. The sunglasses couple left with no resultant mayhem or major illicit behavior.
I’m going home to see what Mia destroyed this evening and then it’s off to bed.