![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Holy hell. Weekends are COMPLICATED.
Jul. 24th, 2006 07:48 pmYeah, so. Here's a table of contents for you.
1. Visiting Batland is fun, mostly.
2. Especially when it means seeing lots of family
3. But sometimes family can be a little exhausting
4. But that's OK 'cause there are horses!
5. Sadly, excitement about horses can lead to carelessness with parents' car
6. Hey, I know! Let's talk about (possibly) rabid raccoons that come up onto your back porch to die!
7. Let's also talk about 20-year-old air-powered b-b-guns and how they are perhaps not the best instrument for putting (possibly) rabid raccoons out of their misery.
8. Well, that's out of the way. Now what? Wait, the car isn't working again?
9. All's well that ends well.
10. Except the car still doesn't work.
11. PS, happy birthday, Priss. No charge for the new car battery.
1. Visiting Batland is fun, mostly.
I had Friday off and took today off so me and Mr. Smarty-Pants could go visit my folks in their country place, Batland -- named for the bats in the attic. We drove up Friday morning/afternoon and arrived in the evening, just in time for my parents to feed us a couple glasses of wine and then cart off my also-visiting grandmother for a Friday night fish-fry.
Since Mr. Smarty-Pants is vegan, and I am his spouse, and since also-visiting cousin Sweetie (14 years old and an angel on earth) wanted to stay with us, I set forth to create an edible dinner for three at Batland. In my drunken, dinner-making fugue, it's possible I told young Sweetie a little more than she needed to know about my history of teenaged naughtiness (very mild by most standards but obviously shocking by hers).
2. Especially when it means seeing lots of family
Parents and grandmother returned from dinner and helped me do the dishes, and then we all had a jolly evening catching up. My grandmother forgot her hearing aid when she flew out, though, so the evening necessitated a bit of bellowing.
3. But sometimes family can be a little bit exhausting
I love my grandmother, I really do, but she's a little high-maintenance. Also, she loves making terrible (and obscure) puns. It's a good thing Mr. Smarty-Pants has such an affection for terrible puns. The two of them get on famously.
4. But that's OK 'cause there are horses!
Saturday morning, Sweetie and I went off for a riding lesson at the barn where Sweetie's been training while she stays with my parents (a month-long visit this summer). I used to ride at this barn a lot when I was Sweetie's age. I don't have any real physical talent for riding, but I do love it.
Anyhow, we had a very enjoyable lesson that started out in some mild flatwork (I can't believe I remember how to leg-yield!) and culminated in a series of five 2' or 2.5' jumps all in a row -- with room for one stride before the last two, and room only for landing and take-off between the first three. I forget what that kind of arrangement is called. Anyhow, I rode a very amiable and easy-going thoroughbred named Tony, who forgave me a number of truly bungled approaches and got us through the gauntlet of jumps in one piece a number of times.
5. Sadly, excitement about horses can lead to carelessness with parents' car
"Wow, what a fun lesson! Well, time to head back. Except, what's this? Oops! I left the lights on in my parents' little old Honda Civic, and now it won't start! Good thing the handy riding instructor is still around and can give us a jump in from his big ol' farm truck!"
6. Hey, let's talk about (possibly) rabid raccoons that come up onto your back porch to die
"Well, we got home in one piece and my dad is only mostly furious at me for screwing up his car. Time to relax and have some fun!" Except for the part where dad comes in the back door and says, "There's a very sick raccoon on the back porch. Don't go out there." So of course we all crowd around the window and peer out at the poor thing which is quivering and shaking and sort of crawling around.
7. Let's also talk about 20-year-old air-powered b-b-guns and how they are perhaps not the best instrument for putting (possibly) rabid raccoons out of their misery.
When we bought Batland about 20 years ago, my dad got an air-pump bb gun that, if pumped up enough, could put a bb through a phone book. That was 20 years ago.
Two days ago, it took him half an hour to make a nine-tenths-dead raccoon ten-tenths dead, at close range. I don't want to know the details. I also don't want to know how much bleach he inhaled when, after burying the poor animal ("Is he sure it's dead?" a slightly hysterical Sweetie asked) he returned to sterilize the entire back porch, lest the critter have left some rabies-juice behind.
8. Well, that's out of the way. Now what? Wait, the car isn't working again?
Well, that was Saturday. Sunday, my mother organized a little field trip to a local museum for me, my grannie, and Sweetie. We drove off in the Civic, which promptly stalled out at a light and was returned home for my father to fulminate over. Good thing we left the car keys with him! Except, oops, we didn't. Anyway, we got to the museum, knocked around for a while, ate some terrible museum-food, and drove the hour and a half home.
On returning home, we discovered my father half-dead with irritation, and Mr. Smarty-Pants a bit rattled from having been a participant in the "back out of the driveway AROUND the poor, dead, key-less Civic and drive to Wal-Mart to buy a mis-configured replacement battery" dance. That's OK, though -- at least the Civic has a new battery, which, though mis-configured, well, kind of fits.
Except it won't start.
9. All's well that ends well.
Eventually, the menfolk get the car started, and we all settle down for the evening. I discover Sudoku (?) for the first time and while away the hours before bed that way.
10. Except the car still doesn't work.
Monday morning (that was today!), Dad takes Sweetie to the barn. He returns as me and Mr. Smarty-Pants are packing up our car to leave for NYC. Turns out the car stalled out three times on the way to and from the barn, even with the new battery. Looks like the electrical system's been damaged. Way to go, Priss!
11. PS, happy birthday. No charge for the new car battery.
Yep, Sunday was the anniversary of my birth. My dad, on hearing my offer to pay him back for the car's new battery, just shook his head and said, "Happy birthday."
Awesome.
At least I got to talk to my brother and his wife on the phone (and heard their youngest squawking in the background). That was nice.
Don't mind me -- I'll just be sitting here in the corner feeling a bit tired.
1. Visiting Batland is fun, mostly.
2. Especially when it means seeing lots of family
3. But sometimes family can be a little exhausting
4. But that's OK 'cause there are horses!
5. Sadly, excitement about horses can lead to carelessness with parents' car
6. Hey, I know! Let's talk about (possibly) rabid raccoons that come up onto your back porch to die!
7. Let's also talk about 20-year-old air-powered b-b-guns and how they are perhaps not the best instrument for putting (possibly) rabid raccoons out of their misery.
8. Well, that's out of the way. Now what? Wait, the car isn't working again?
9. All's well that ends well.
10. Except the car still doesn't work.
11. PS, happy birthday, Priss. No charge for the new car battery.
1. Visiting Batland is fun, mostly.
I had Friday off and took today off so me and Mr. Smarty-Pants could go visit my folks in their country place, Batland -- named for the bats in the attic. We drove up Friday morning/afternoon and arrived in the evening, just in time for my parents to feed us a couple glasses of wine and then cart off my also-visiting grandmother for a Friday night fish-fry.
Since Mr. Smarty-Pants is vegan, and I am his spouse, and since also-visiting cousin Sweetie (14 years old and an angel on earth) wanted to stay with us, I set forth to create an edible dinner for three at Batland. In my drunken, dinner-making fugue, it's possible I told young Sweetie a little more than she needed to know about my history of teenaged naughtiness (very mild by most standards but obviously shocking by hers).
2. Especially when it means seeing lots of family
Parents and grandmother returned from dinner and helped me do the dishes, and then we all had a jolly evening catching up. My grandmother forgot her hearing aid when she flew out, though, so the evening necessitated a bit of bellowing.
3. But sometimes family can be a little bit exhausting
I love my grandmother, I really do, but she's a little high-maintenance. Also, she loves making terrible (and obscure) puns. It's a good thing Mr. Smarty-Pants has such an affection for terrible puns. The two of them get on famously.
4. But that's OK 'cause there are horses!
Saturday morning, Sweetie and I went off for a riding lesson at the barn where Sweetie's been training while she stays with my parents (a month-long visit this summer). I used to ride at this barn a lot when I was Sweetie's age. I don't have any real physical talent for riding, but I do love it.
Anyhow, we had a very enjoyable lesson that started out in some mild flatwork (I can't believe I remember how to leg-yield!) and culminated in a series of five 2' or 2.5' jumps all in a row -- with room for one stride before the last two, and room only for landing and take-off between the first three. I forget what that kind of arrangement is called. Anyhow, I rode a very amiable and easy-going thoroughbred named Tony, who forgave me a number of truly bungled approaches and got us through the gauntlet of jumps in one piece a number of times.
5. Sadly, excitement about horses can lead to carelessness with parents' car
"Wow, what a fun lesson! Well, time to head back. Except, what's this? Oops! I left the lights on in my parents' little old Honda Civic, and now it won't start! Good thing the handy riding instructor is still around and can give us a jump in from his big ol' farm truck!"
6. Hey, let's talk about (possibly) rabid raccoons that come up onto your back porch to die
"Well, we got home in one piece and my dad is only mostly furious at me for screwing up his car. Time to relax and have some fun!" Except for the part where dad comes in the back door and says, "There's a very sick raccoon on the back porch. Don't go out there." So of course we all crowd around the window and peer out at the poor thing which is quivering and shaking and sort of crawling around.
7. Let's also talk about 20-year-old air-powered b-b-guns and how they are perhaps not the best instrument for putting (possibly) rabid raccoons out of their misery.
When we bought Batland about 20 years ago, my dad got an air-pump bb gun that, if pumped up enough, could put a bb through a phone book. That was 20 years ago.
Two days ago, it took him half an hour to make a nine-tenths-dead raccoon ten-tenths dead, at close range. I don't want to know the details. I also don't want to know how much bleach he inhaled when, after burying the poor animal ("Is he sure it's dead?" a slightly hysterical Sweetie asked) he returned to sterilize the entire back porch, lest the critter have left some rabies-juice behind.
8. Well, that's out of the way. Now what? Wait, the car isn't working again?
Well, that was Saturday. Sunday, my mother organized a little field trip to a local museum for me, my grannie, and Sweetie. We drove off in the Civic, which promptly stalled out at a light and was returned home for my father to fulminate over. Good thing we left the car keys with him! Except, oops, we didn't. Anyway, we got to the museum, knocked around for a while, ate some terrible museum-food, and drove the hour and a half home.
On returning home, we discovered my father half-dead with irritation, and Mr. Smarty-Pants a bit rattled from having been a participant in the "back out of the driveway AROUND the poor, dead, key-less Civic and drive to Wal-Mart to buy a mis-configured replacement battery" dance. That's OK, though -- at least the Civic has a new battery, which, though mis-configured, well, kind of fits.
Except it won't start.
9. All's well that ends well.
Eventually, the menfolk get the car started, and we all settle down for the evening. I discover Sudoku (?) for the first time and while away the hours before bed that way.
10. Except the car still doesn't work.
Monday morning (that was today!), Dad takes Sweetie to the barn. He returns as me and Mr. Smarty-Pants are packing up our car to leave for NYC. Turns out the car stalled out three times on the way to and from the barn, even with the new battery. Looks like the electrical system's been damaged. Way to go, Priss!
11. PS, happy birthday. No charge for the new car battery.
Yep, Sunday was the anniversary of my birth. My dad, on hearing my offer to pay him back for the car's new battery, just shook his head and said, "Happy birthday."
Awesome.
At least I got to talk to my brother and his wife on the phone (and heard their youngest squawking in the background). That was nice.
Don't mind me -- I'll just be sitting here in the corner feeling a bit tired.
