Yesterday, Amylynn and I were getting some things together for a birthday party that she’s hosting this Saturday.  We needed to go to a hardware store for glass jars. 

Here’s one of the few ways that we differ – I never ask for help in a store because store people are idiots and always tell

Amylynn going shopping

you they don’t have what you’re looking for even when it’s right in front of them.  Amylynn believes that the store folks are there to assist her and to do whatever she bids them to do. 

With her diamond tiara on straight, she will sweep through the door and demand of the first employee she encounters where something is and with a wave of her hand indicate that they should lead her right to it.  I always follow behind her, carrying the train of her gown and her scepter.     

After being led to the Mason jars, she made the mistake of using the word “plethora” on the poor hapless clerk. 

“Plethora?  That’s a word you don’t hear often,” he mumbled.  He should have just led and not talked.  Didn’t he understand he was in an aisle filled with glass with a woman he’d just insulted and another one from Jersey?  I told you store people are idiots. 

Amylynn looked down her pert regal nose at him and right at his single eyebrow.  “Really?  I use it frequently,” she informed him.

A Plethora of Pickled People

Me, in my head, “Run little man, run!  Save yourself!”

But it was not to be.

He said (I swear), “People only use big words to make other people feel stupid.” 

“Sir, I am certain there are many reasons for you to feel stupid but my using the word “plethora” is not one of them.” Queen Amylynn proclaimed. 

It didn’t end well. 

Remember those pickled people jars from the 80s?  Well, the hardware store in our town now has one for sale on aisle 12.    

Back in the car, I did point out that maybe she shouldn’t ask for help in stores anymore, I’m just sayin’.

The girl who lives at my house came home with an extra credit science project last week.  And trust me; she needs that extra credit like nobody’s business.  Believe it or not – it was to build a solar system.  How freakin’ unoriginal is that??? Why didn’t the teacher just give the option of a solar system or a volcano??? It could have been something fun – like breaking the sound barrier with fruit or using a homemade rocket to launch a magic eight ball into orbit – but NO.

Me: No matter what, we are not hanging the planets from a wire coat hanger.

Girl: Why not?

Me: Joan Crawford would not approve.

Girl: (Clearly annoyed) Can you just not be you for a second?

Me: (Clearly ignoring that comment) We’ll make it from produce.  The sun can be a pumpkin. 

Sun Pumpkin

Girl: You don’t even know how to buy produce.  Daddy goes to the grocery store.  There’s no cake in the fresh food aisle, I doubt you could even locate it.

So, we go off to the store, not the grocery store mind you, but to a hobby emporium.  We couldn’t find anything that we could use that would be easy to make round and in the right sizes, except for Styrofoam balls.  Now I know that was your first thought when I started this post but I’m here to tell you you can’t use Styrofoam balls.  You want to know why?  Because 10 of them cost $52.89.  And you need special paint that doesn’t melt Styrofoam.  That special paint cost $3.99 a can.  We needed plan B.   

$52.89 PLUS Paint

Girl: We could make the planets out of rubber band balls.

Me: Yea, that won’t take forever.

Girl: You have to admit it would work.  They make rubber bands in all colors now and we could make them in any size we need.

Me: That would be a great idea if you had mentioned it when you were born and I could have made one per year until you were 11 bringing us to today and your need to build a solar system.  I’ve tried to teach you about planning ahead . . .

Girl: You’re insane.

Me: Why don’t we give your teacher the $52.89, I’ll bet that would get you all of the extra credit points.

As it turns out, I was replaced on the project by Ed.  He broke the news to me gently, saying something about artistic differences and such.  I hope the girl who lives at my house knows she’s never getting $52.89 out of her father for Styrofoam.

It dawned on me the other day that I should stop complaining about the “Bank of No Forks” and find some other type of gainful employment.  I made a list of things I’m good at:

Complaining, cleaning/laundry, mortgage underwriting, handmade jewelry, taking care of small animals, scaring ghosts off – not a complete list but a start . . .

Complaining would be great but I can’t find anyone who pays for that, there’s not enough money on the planet for me to clean or do the laundry of someone I’m not married to or didn’t birth, mortgage underwriting doesn’t pay enough to support me anymore and jewelry making never did, I didn’t go to school to be a vet so the small animal thing is out – that leaves me with scaring off ghosts.  I ran that by Amylynn since she’ll be going with me.  She was a wee bit skeptical at first –  “You need to revisit that list or make a new one, crazy sister.” 

I convinced her with my Craig’s List Ad:

Have an unwanted ghost at your house?  Hire us, Ava Louis and Amylynn Bright, to rid your home of all disembodied spirits of dead persons.  Excellent track record of scaring all types of ghosts from ever bothering you again.  Don’t spend another minute afraid in your own domicile.  $1000.00 per removal plus travel expenses if needed.  Full money back guarantee if not fully satisfied.

“Well, you do have that ability, it’s like a superpower.” Amylynn grudgedly admitted.

Indeed it is.  I have never been to any purported haunted place in my life and seen a ghostly anything.  Not once, ever.  I’ve had the curators of haunted museums apologize for the lack of ghostly activity while I was there.  I’ve eaten delicious homemade nut rolls in the kitchen of a haunted house where bread was supposed to fly everyday at 4:00PM off the top of the fridge and nothin’.

I’ve actually been blamed for making ghosts disappear – as if I’m the frightening one!  Okay, well maybe I’m frightening to the living but certainly NOT to ghosts! 

I think I’ve found our new career . . .

Tell us what great super power you have – don’t be shy, we can hardly wait to hear about your talents!

Life’s funny.  Amylynn showed me an ad in a magazine for a TV show about people who have made a fortune making duck calls.  I kid you not – duck calls.  I had no idea that enough people needed to call ducks that you could make a fortune selling them.  Aside from all of the jokes I could make, let’s just say I had no intention of ever watching this show.  I have standards, people, and the line gets drawn at the Preppers on the Discovery channel.

Last night, I’m mindlessly flipping through the channels looking for something funny to watch for a few minutes and I stumble across the aforementioned show.

I paused for a second because until that moment I wasn’t really sure the show was real.  But I’m here to tell you it’s real.  I was instantly taken in by the interesting “look” of the duck calling clan.  There were three men and two women.  The two women looked fairly normal.  The men looked just like you’d think duck calling manufacturers would look.

Red necks, lots of camo, hats, and lots of yukky hair – everywhere.  Yuk.

Why did I pause you ask?  Well, let me tell you, one of the ladies has signed up to write a cookbook.  Yup, a cookbook from the wife of a man who makes duck calls for a living.  Admit it; you would have been curious too.  I’m thinking grits and biscuits with gravy – well, I’m thinking wrong.

It was late at night but she told Duck Boy #1 that she needed frogs – FROGS- for a recipe she was cooking in the morning and that he needed to take Duck Boys #2 & #3 out FROG hunting.  I shit you not.  Never in a million years could I, as creative and crazy as I am, come up with that to entertain you.

He made a pretense at being annoyed, it was the middle of the night and he did have his camo jammies on already.  The other two also appeared to be in lounge wear.  Luckily, it turns out that jammies and lounge wear are just perfect for frog hunting.  So, without having to change, they were off into the swamp around their mansion (they live in a mansion, in a swamp, where they make duck calls, really) to collect the needed frogs.

Duck Boy #1 tells us how it takes a special skill to steer the boat while the skilled frog hunter catches the frogs in a net.  After the skilled frog hunter scoops up a giant big fat frog, yuk, he flips the frog into the boat into an ice cooler.  Now here’s the funny part – the ice cooler has to be manned by a human.  He sits on the lid and at the exact right moment, jumps up, lifts the lids so the mighty frog hunter can drop the poor creature into the chest and then closes the lids and sits on it.  That’s his job. 

Duck Boy #1 explains that the cooler job can be handled by “any human” since no real skill is required.  He chuckled when he said “any human” because clearly it was an insult at Duck Boy #3.  The camera pans to the human on the cooler and he smiles.  He has just been severely insulted and he is, somehow, not upset.  Perhaps that’s why he sits on the cooler?  And just so you know, he had all of his teeth when he smiled.

I explained all of this to Amylynn today – that frog hunting is a metaphor for life – either you’re the frog hunter or “any human” sitting on the cooler.  She suggested I go to bed earlier.

Let’s just say I’m very near the end of my child-bearing years.  I’m actually looking forward to a little menopause for the obvious reason.  You always hear about a woman’s biological clock ticking and her sudden need to have a baby but you never hear about that same need rearing its ugly head when you are just about unable to physically to do it.

Really Freakin' Cute Kitten

I’m sure it has an official name or something but I like to call it the “IneedakittenorI’mgoingtodie” period of life.  Some woman report that they experience an over whelming need for a human baby.  Since I wasn’t happy giving birth the first two times, I have an over whelming urge for a furry baby – hence the kitten issue.

Just so you know, I have a perfectly good dog and a perfectly good cat.  I treat them both like the children I gave birth to, actually I treat them better because I didn’t give birth to them.  When people ask me how many children I have, I say four.  I’d really like to be able to say five.  Let people wonder if I’m catholic or mormon or crazy.

Anyway, I drive Amylynn insane about this daily.  Kind of like the way she drove me nuts over the puppy.  However, she is married to a very nice man and I’m not.  I’m married to Ed.  Ed – the man who is not, I repeat not, “going to entertain the purchase of another cost sucking living creature in our house that has to be taken care of” by him.

Did I happen to mention the $493.82 we just spent on cleaning the dog’s teeth on Tuesday?  I guess I could pick my times better for asking for a kitten.

Today’s phone conversation –

Me: I’m going to need a kitten.

Ed: Did you and Amylynn buy a lottery ticket?

What the Baby Adorable Puma will grow into - I guess that kitten's not looking so bad after all, huh, Ed?

Baby Adorable Puma

Me: What’s that have to do with the kitten we’re getting?

Ed: If you win the lottery, you can have a kitten.

Click.

Damn, how’s that for permission?  If I win the lottery, I’m getting a puma kitten and Ed will have no one to blame but his sarcastic self.

As anyone who reads this blog knows, we are all about cute furry animals.  More specifically, we’re about having cute furry animals at our houses.

On Saturday night, at my children’s school, we had a science fair event.  Part of the evening included our local zoo bringing several animals for a visit.  There is nothing I like more than visiting animals.  The flyer said, and I quote, “prepare to cozy up to a hedgehog.”  OMG!!!!!  We love, love, LOVE hedgehogs!  I have never been more prepared for anything in my life!

Really Cute Hedgehog

I immediately texted Amylynn – “You are jealous because I’m going to cozy up to a hedgehog on Saturday night.”  We discussed what size purse I was going to need just in case.   

I swear, I do not own a red purse.

Ed did not find this to be funny.  Ed said I was not to even consider stealing a hedgehog.  Stealing is such an ugly word, don’t you think?  I like liberate.  Ed said I was not to even consider liberating a hedgehog.  Whatever.

For days I practiced saying “What hedgehog?” and “Did you have a hedgehog with you?”

There were two people from the zoo with the animals.  I was hoping for just one but I’m nothing if not adaptable to whatever situation presents itself.  The guy zoo keeper was a bit buff.  I pointed him out to Ed and asked if he could take him.  Before Ed thought about that he said yes.  Then I got the stink eye and “Don’t even think about it.”  My non-response resulted in “I’m not bailing you out of jail.”  This wasn’t a concern because Amylynn would – men never really understand the whole girlfriends as sisters thing.

To my great disappointment, we were not even allowed to touch the hedgehog.  I thought there were laws against false advertising?  “Cozy” up indeed.  The zoo handler held her in a blanket.  Her name was Nike and she was freakin’ adorable. 

At the end, we were allowed to pet the chicken and a snake.  I’ll admit I petted the chicken (she was lovely) but I didn’t pet the snake because it was very snake-ish.  I demanded to be allowed to “cozy” up to the hedgehog, as advertised,  and was told she felt like a cactus.  I insisted I didn’t care about that. 

I’ll tell you what; those zoo people kept their eye on those animals like someone might try to steal one for goodness sake.