The Pink Elephant in the room

I am not by any means a prude. However, in my hope to help a few people out there, who aren't sure what is, or is not, appropriate to talk about in a family restaurant, here is a short list of words even *I* wouldn't utter.

• Anything using "fuck." This rule may only be broken if you find an appendage in your food, such as, "What the fuck is this?" as you pull a small hairy paw out of your soup.
• "Penis." While I won't ban the use of this word in the bathroom for obvious reasons, I will unequivocally state that any phrases that start, "He posted pictures of his penis..." are not okay, especially when spoken at your table.
• "Lines." Please don't leave me nonsensically stumbling to explain why you just said, "lines on the bathroom counter," instead of "lines to get to the bathroom counter. Please leave your lines and any talk about them, in the dorm from whence you came.
• "Blow job." I am positive that I don't care if Erica gave Peter a blow job, but, after they wire your jaws shut, your boyfriend will be doing without them for a long, loooong time.

Now that we have established what can and cannot be said in a family restaurant, let me give you a few helpful hints to determine if you are indeed 'in' a family restaurant.

• The term "Family Restaurant" appears in bold red letters on the sign.
• There are people at least 1-2 feet shorter than you are in every direction you look.
• They have a game room that doesn't include any darts, poker, or pool tables.
• There are pissed off parents as far as the eye can see, wondering when their children will need to potty, so they will be free to discreetly rip out your vocal chords.

I think that I am the true test of what is absolutely, positively offensive. If you have managed to offend me, you have crossed a line. In the event that the occupants of the table behind ours ever stumble upon this post, "Just because a restaurant has a bar, doesn't mean it is one. Just because you're drunk, doesn't mean it's okay. Just because you can, doesn't mean you should...and the last one, is all that saved me from dumping my glass over your foul mouthed little heads, but, the next time I would STFU if I were you, restraint only goes so far."

Only wisdom and serenity today

Jelly Bean with Honey this morning, Honey continues to decline.

Yesterday I had a revelation, I was on the phone with my mother and I told her that I couldn't really talk because I had to give the hamster a bath, and my mother responded with, "You're a fucking idiot. Just let the g*damned thing die. Why don't you give one of your kids a bath instead." I realized something at that moment...my relationship with my parents will never be fixable, because we don't *like* each other.

It isn't about who did what when, or even who said what...the biggest problem we have, is that we just don't like each other. We don't share the same tastes, values, or beliefs. We don't share the same goals or visions. In short, the only thing we have in common, are my children.

I'm walking away. Really. I am walking away now. I am putting an end to our relationship. They don't give a hoot about any of my kids except my oldest, and he is old enough to pick up the phone and call them if he would like.

It is time to end the cycle, and I suspect that we will all be happier people for it. I'm tired of being reminded on a daily basis that I am not living a life they approve of, and that I am not mothering in a way they sanction. I can only imagine that they are frustrated that I can't or won't change to conform to their standards.

I can tell you this, they did everything 'right' according to the records they keep, and they haven't seen any of their children over a holiday in a decade. If that is the result of doing it the 'right' way, I hope I keep doing everything wrong, because after my kids leave home, I want them to 'want' to spend time with me. I want them to fill my home with love and laughter always. I want love to be the greatest factor in my relationship with my kids, not judgement.

So, here is to having the wisdom to know what I can't change and the serenity to accept it.

An addendum to the Hamster Chronicles

First, I have to give a shout out to our local major pet store, Petco. I know what you guys are saying about major franchises, but, our local Petco, at least, has got it together. Believe you me, I never thought I would utter those words, but, it is true.

The shop that we got Honey from, is a local store. It is not a franchise, and the owner that I dealt with, IS the owner/manager. I am *not* impressed with them at all. Not only do I come to find out that they routinely treat the water in their shop for Wet Tail, whether the animals are sick or not, but, they offered me nothing but misinformation designed to sell me more crap, that would have not been effective in treating the Wet Tail anyway.

Petco, where I have either purchased or adopted all of my other hamsters, is in my opinion, a class act. They are in partnership with a local vet, and they have all of their small animals who show any sign of illness or injury treated. They even have a program in place, such that, if I had not been able to afford to have Honey treated, I could have surrendered her to them, even though I didn't purchase her there, and they would have had her treated by their vet, and later she would be placed up for adoption, if she healed. Honestly, I tried to encourage the shop owner where Honey came from to either contact the vet, or surrender the rest of Honey's cage-mates, to them. Let's just say, she wasn't interested in my suggestion.

I have two hammies that I adopted from Petco recently, and both came to me with their veterinary records. One nearly lost an eye to his wheel in the store cage, and the other was an owner surrender because Big John is meaner than shit...of course, he also lived in shit for a long time with his previous owners, so I have hopes that one day, after we work with him for awhile, I'll be able to clean out his cage without worrying about losing a finger. Big John is also the coolest, baddest dude in town. He is so freaking funny that his antics make up for his grumpy ways...and, I think we even understand each other.

So guys, don't rule out the big name pet stores, check them out for yourselves and talk to the staff there. I have unfortunately found, that the local guys, aren't always the good guys.

***The BBB was the only party that I contacted willing to take a complaint against the pet store. The ASPCA, the state, and the county all fobbed me off to each other. The saddest part of this for me, is that I'm not looking to be reimbursed (not that I would refuse compensation for the vet bills) but, that I'm not sure the BBB has much if any jurisdiction over the treatment and welfare of animals.

The Hamster Chronicles

In the event that you all didn't know, I have a small sized petting zoo, and we seem to add to it on a regular basis. I have two dogs, two cats, a parakeet, five hamsters, four fish tanks, a frog, and two betta bowls. Theoretically, with six children, I should have plenty of helping hands to help dole out snuggles and meals.

One of our newer acquisitions, a black bear hamster is ill. I noticed on Thursday, that she had not run on her wheel Wednesday night. On Thursday, I put a couple of treats on her wheel to see for sure if she wasn't running. The treats were still on the wheel Friday morning, so I picked her up to look at her. Her bottom was damp, and anyone who knows anything about small animals, knows that Wet Tail, is the worry of every hammie owner and aficionado. Wet Tail has a 90% mortality rate.

The first thing I did was call the shop to ask about the health of the other hamsters in the cage. The shop owner informed me that she had found three dead, but, that she didn't know why. She also tried to tell me that Wet Tail is completely curable, and that a vet visit was most unnecessary. I was horrified by the lack of care that the animals are given.

Don't get me wrong, I've lost hammies in the past, but never in a way that they suffered in any prolonged manner. I am also pretty sickened that the shop will continue to sell the hamsters from that cage to families like mine, setting the children who will love them, up for disaster. The disease has a slow onset, it takes between 7-10 days for a hamster to show symptoms, which is why the reputable shops will offer a 14 day policy on hamsters. I'll be honest, I've been a little queasy since Friday thinking about all of this.

I eventually found a vet in my area (that was less astronomical than others) who would see Honey. She confirmed what I already knew, that Honey had Wet Tail, and that while she would give us antibiotics, we shouldn't get our hopes up. She gave us a five day window, tomorrow, we will be just over half-way there. We are keeping our fingers crossed for our Honey Bear. In the meantime, I am changing bedding every 8 hours, administering antibiotics every 12 hours, and washing her soiled bottom every time she has a bowel movement. Talk about fun! You don't know adventure until you've washed your hamster's asshole with betadine...just take my word for it...okay?

I am actually approaching you guys on the Internet, not because I think that you are going to be greatly interested in our hammie, but, because I want to know what your thoughts are on the moral aspects of pet shops, and the treatment of 'less valuable' companion pets might be? I spent all day on Friday trying to find someone in our state/county that could tell me what the law is in reference to just letting animals suffer and die because they aren't of a great enough dollar value...and let me just say, that nobody seems to know. So tell me, what do you think should happen?

You haven't eaten out, until you've 'eaten out' in the South

"Now, this here is a nice place. I just wanted to take y'all out to a really nice restaurant, and this here place is that, a really nice restaurant. Let's have us a good dinner at this nice place, on me."

The above is a quote from a man in the restaurant that my old high school friend and myself ate at last week. That man was wearing a pair of purple Docker shorts, a ringer tee with a purple collar, and a ball cap. I suspect that the shorts and the shirt were originally a Navy color before they met with disaster in the laundry. Only a good old boy, could possibly describe the place we were patronizing as a "really nice restaurant."

The setting for this particular place is lovely. It is right on the water, it has both water and street access. You can watch the kittens play under the dock, feed the fish, or not adhere to the strict "Do Not Feed the Gators" signs, while you wait for your table. It is a place from my teen years, ripe with memories of eating there, first with my family, and then with my friends as I got older. It seemed a perfect spot to get together with my friend C, whom I hadn't seen since our junior year of high school.

What I didn't remember about the place, was that it boasts one of the largest private collections of taxidermy in the country. It, without a doubt, has the record for the dustiest collection of taxidermy in the country. I am relatively certain that the recorded sounds of the long dead beasts that play on a loop, is new. That, I doubt I could have forgotten.

I had also forgotten that it is upscale red-neck dining at its finest. It is on par with a nice steak house in price, and in sync with a Long John Silver's in clientele. Very unusual. In my day, it boasted some of the best seafood in our area. I suspect that they are suffering from the current economic times, just the same as the rest of us. I also suspect that I can't be the only person to be grossed out by the 'drinking water' labelled pipes that run the length of the stalls in the women's restroom, to the bar.

Among the decor, there is a lion frozen in time, with what seems to be an antelope spending an eternity in his last leap, just under the lion's jaws. After a few drinks, it resembles an experiment in cross breeding, more so than the circle of life. There are also gators, giraffes, opossums, bobcats, more lions, wild boars, a flamingo, a tiger, and a small collection of companion kitties from over the years.

Their menu is as eclectic as their motif. They serve gator, python, llama, antelope, kangaroo, emu, ostrich, turtle, and a few more 'wild' game selections. I love their sausage, all of it. As a kid, I would get 'gator dogs' there. It was always yummy. This time they were out of most of my tried and trues, so (after having drinks first) we decided to branch out and try Gator Toes, which can be eaten like a chicken wing, and are the knuckle to claw area of the gator. I wasn't impressed. We also tried the chargrilled python. The snake was good. For dinner, I had gator tail, which was yummy, and, it always is. I would have rather had the gator ribs, but the kitchen turned me off the ribs by serving the Gator Toes still half frozen. For those of you who are skeptical that any of the above is actually food, you are clearly not from the South.

I am very sorry that I didn't take a camera with me. Soon, very soon indeed, I will return to take pictures of this dining experience...just so that I can share them with you, my bloggy pals. I promise to feature at least one picture of the lion bumping and grinding with his prey, and if sufficiently inebriated, one of me showing my tattoo to the tiger there...which I exercised restraint and didn't do this past trip. Anyone in my area interested in getting in on this informal dining review? Let me know.

The very best part of the evening was seeing my old friend. There is something unique about being reunited with an old friend, because no matter how far apart you have drifted, only the kind of friends you bonded with in youth, before we put up all the walls that adults always do, can make you feel so happy and carefree...even if only for a couple of hours.

Of course, I don't know if that rings true if you take kids along, so don't chance it.

Gratitude With Attitude Tuesday

Dearest Douche Bags at Starbucks Today,

I totally 'get' the need for coffee.

HOWEVER, if, in your haste to get your caffeine on, you plow into another person or vehicle in the parking lot, don't you think that is going to slow you down way worse than having another person in front of you in line?

Also, you Fucktard Bitch in the beat all to hell white Dodge Grand Caravan? You deserve to be 'coffee boarded' which is much like water boarding, except with that effing Latte you just *had* to have *right this second.* I know that doesn't sound very legal, but, just like Dick Cheney, I feel you warrant an exception to the rules. When you made an illegal turn across four lanes of traffic after I chose not to let you hit me, for the second time, even though it would have been your fault? I regretted my restraint.

This is supposed to be a thank you letter, so what can I possibly thank you for? Hmmmm...I thank you for waking me up, anger is a much more powerful stimulant than caffeine. Maybe that's why Starbucks has done nothing about the serious danger their parking lot represents.

Sincerely,

Next time I see you, I'll be the one climbing out of my car...and I don't bitch slap.

***************

Dear Waiter,

Thank you for saving me some mega bucks. I usually tip well. When I am taking up your table because I wish to have a leisurely dinner with an old friend, I usually tip *very* well. However, your eye rolling and hefty sighs gave me all the encouragement I needed to stick to a 25% rule.

The gator toes that you suggested were still half frozen when you served them to us. While I wasn't looking for a freebie, it would have been really nice if you had served us a fresh order, instead of nuking the cold ones. If you didn't believe me, you could have touched one...honest.

The python was excellent, as was the gator tail. I was disappointed that you were out of all sorts of good stuff, like kangaroo sausage and antelope. Next time, I'll call ahead...to make sure that YOU aren't there and that your menu items are.

A suggestion for your future? Nasty servers never make great tips, that is why they call it the 'service industry.'

Sincerely,

If I had wanted shrimp, I would have eaten somewhere else

***************

Dear Self,

Bitch, you are CRAZY! How did you let the woman at the pet store talk you into adopting both of their crazy hamsters? That is just what you needed. Two more living, breathing, shitting things to take care of. Better yet, two more living, breathing, shitting things that require massive amounts of time and energy to be rehabilitated.

Please be advised to stop this self destructive behavior before your children are old enough to have you 'Baker Act-ed.'

Thank you for proving that your heart hasn't gone the way of your soul...vacuumed out to make room for the ever increasing levels of sarcasm. Now, go clean out those cages, and let those hamster chomps serve as reminders of why you are another stoo-pid human.

Sincerely,

The few brain cells that six pregnancies didn't kill

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Dear Big Boy,

Each and every gray hair on my head was put there by YOU! I suppose I should have asked first, if you would mind my undoing all of your hard work...but, it is MY hair!

Thank you for proving that I am raising a young man who will actually notice details about women. However, you tuned out before we got to a critical portion of the lesson..."I really hope that washes out!" is not the way to make a woman happy. Please be advised, you heard it here first, even if it takes your future wife and a frying pan to drive the point home.

Love,

Your publishing this for posterity Mama

***************

Okay guys, prove there is at least one of you reading, and go see Think Tank Momma to link up and play along!

Let's show a little gratitude...GWA

Gratitude With Attitude, courtesy of Think Tank Momma. Go to her site and link up, this is such great therapy!

***************

Dear Hamsters,

Thank you for making my children happy. They love you already. I do not.

I have to admit, that my son's hamster seems mild mannered and even tempered, and has yet tried to bite me. My daughter's hamster is a blood thirsty bitch though. Cute, adorable even...and mean.

Please let me serve you with this warning, the first time you draw blood, in absence of stitches you will be forgiven. The second time? I will lock you in the bathroom with my cats. Who is laughing now, huh?

Sincerely,

Rodents aren't really my thing

***************

Dear A's Parents,

Thank you for convincing my kids that we are normal. And by 'we' I mean 'me' not you. You all are clearly crazy.

My daughter came home from your house with a renewed appreciation for my housekeeping skills (or lack thereof) and I am grateful for it.

At first, I was all, "What do you mean their house is a wreck? They only have one kid, and her mother stays home?" Then my daughter told me about the chicken coop you have in your living room. And about your fish, pet rat things, and birds. I suppose it must be hard to clean around a CHICKEN COOP IN YOUR LIVING ROOM, so I understand now. I am thoroughly disgusted, but, I understand.

Oh, and no thank you, we would *not* like one of your chicks, unless you kill it, clean it, and pluck it first.

Many thanks,

Viv

***************

Dear Hubby,

I want to thank you for saving me all those calories. The beer that you opened, tasted, and then poured out would have added inches to my waist for sure.

Of course, they would also have made me happy. The fact that you don't care for 'real' beer saddens me, but, not as much as finding a bottle of craft brewed Hefeweizen, an IPA, a 'true' lager, and a bottle of Newcastle sitting in waiting to go out to the recycle bin.

It is established that we don't have the same taste in beer, so the next time you surprise me with a visit...stop and buy some Coors on your way in. You are no longer permitted to open anything that has a pry off cap that is under my roof.

Thanks for understanding,

Your wife, the beer snob