Yeah, I'm sick. I have a semi-cold. Not really bad, just annoying. Actually, I'm pretty good at being sick, as it entails lots of lying around, reading, drinking lots of fluids, and sleeping. All my normal hobbies, only now I don't sound so lazy.
So the only thing I'm pissed about is that it's my day off. What a waste! When I could have called in sick to work and had an extra guilt-free day off. Damn.
And I was so going to my parents' house today. Not really to see them, or my annoying brother, but his decidedly wonderful offspring, my only nephew. Who is the cutest, funniest, smartest, most amazing 5-year-old on the planet, and couldn't be any more perfect if I grew him my ownself.
Some of his favorite things, in no particular order:
--Playing hide and seek (during which he hides, then hollers, 'OK, come find me now!' and giggles maniacally at his genius hiding spot, usually under my parents' bed)
--catching grasshoppers to keep in a plastic habitat, let them go, then catch them again (obviously we wouldn't be doing this one today, as it is fahreakin' cold)
--my parents' cat, named technically Spider. (When we first got him, he was so teensy tiny and his little black hairs stood up all over his back and...actually, I think my mom had a dream that she named him Spider, so we did. Our one brush with the New Age. He has been called Panther since my brother and I taught him to jump up and cling to our outstretched arms with HIS outstretched claws. Super cute when he was a teensy ball of fluff, not so funny when he reach 10 lbs. He got so good at it, he would spring up at you any time you reached your arm out, like in the middle of the night, reaching for the faucet to get a glass of water. Panther screams supposedly sound like a woman, and they can attack people, so it all ties together, see? Oh, and he's solid black and a minion of Satan. So, Panther is appropriate.)
Why does my nephew love him so? I really have no idea.
--Dr. Pepper. Because my mother has yet to beat her fifteen year addiction to the stuff (for the previous ten years it was Cherry Coke), and can always be seen can in hand. She has even allowed him to have a donut and Dr. Pepper for breakfast. Which drives my brother crazy, and makes me worry about orthodontia.
--Yogurt. Again, with my mom. She has nothing on that couple in the commercial about all the different flavors of yogurt. Except that hers aren't lined up neatly, but squirreled away amongst the cow vaccinations, Diet Mountain Dew (my dad's vice--see how I come from a long line of addicts?) mysterious things in knockoff Tupperware, and the occasional baggie of thawing calf fries.
--Deer Hunter, a computer game where you...well, hunt deer. Last time I was home, he even postponed his usual lavish shrieking welcome to finish 'gettin this deer'. Sniff.
--Play-Doh. Which his amazing Aunt Queen bought him gigantic quantites of for his birthday (and his father displayed amazing paternal savvy at hiding half of before little guy noticed they were gone). His mother had to buy another supply for Xmas, only two weeks after his birthday. He has created some surprising original works, such as the pile of 'yellow coyote poop' on my mother's kitchen table. Genius use of color and texture.
--Me. I am the bestest aunt ever, as I will play hide and seek and white trash gymnastics* forever. (I have sometimes taken TWO naps on an 8-hour visit. If we could harness five-year-old energy, we wouldn't need Boone Pickens' windmills.) Some of the most heartwrenching phone calls I've ever had were his little voice piping over the line "Are you comin to Grandma's right now?" when I'm on my way to work. Or the forty-seven phone calls I get in the hour-long drive to Grandma's--"Are you here yet?" And seeing his little face pressed up against the screen door when I do arrive, and hearing "She's here, she's here!" (No male has ever been that excited about my arrival. EVER.)
*Somersaults on the bed until Grandpa makes us stop ('cause it's his bed), somersaults in the kitchen floor, holding his hands and letting him 'walk' up my body until he reached my stomach and he's in a little ball, then flipping him over until his arms nearly wrench out of his sockets. Safety first!
So you can see why I'm pretty bummed, and have spent the last three hours reading other people's blogs. Then I realized that I haven't nattered along on mine for a while. And, embarrassingly enough, MY blog isn't even saved to MY favorites. Hm. Sad.
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