It has truly been another most-excellent day. When Owen showed up, he was wearing his Woody Costume. He would not leave the house without it on. This thing cracks me up because the "belt" area comes up to mid-chest, the way it would if he were an old man.
It's so garish and cheap and silly with that vest and the built-on gun holster but he loves it so much and I love that he loves it. He also showed up with a skateboard and a helmet, neither of which he employed at all, but again- he would not, according to his mama, leave the house without them.
He immediately discovered the return of the tractor and spent quite a bit of time on it, pretending to drive. The tractor is endlessly fascinating to him. He found the attached toolbox and attempted to hot wire the tractor with every tool in there. None of them worked. But he did try. Pliers, screw drivers, assorted other things which I have no idea as to their function. This took quite some time and when I finally decided that I had had enough, it took me hauling him off bodily to get him to come back to the house with me.
He was not happy but I gave him some juice when he got in and then he wanted milk and then he insisted that he must pour the milk back and forth between two glasses and this went incredibly well- there was no spilt milk at all.
Here's another picture from that experiment.
The problem arose when he decided to add the juice to the mix. I must have had my back turned because before I knew it, he had the top off the juice and was pouring that into the cup with the milk and well, as you can see from the picture in the previous post, there was more liquid than there was container and we both learned something.
He moved on to the sink and did other water-and-cup experiments there and the day proceeded and I decided to try and call Verizon because I have not been able to send texts and I finally got ahold of some woman there who was, from the very start, a BITCH! I mean, seriously. She had this very condescending tone to her voice and I could tell she assumed that I was completely clueless (she was only 75% correct there) and while I was having this conversation, Owen pooped and it was a bit chaotic for awhile, trying to do technical iPhone stuff while talking to this woman and, at the same time, dealing with a poopy boy.
She finally determined that my texting had been blocked and tried to make a big drama out of it, as if my husband had deliberately prevented me from texting and of course, that was not the case at all, and she had to call him and we did a three-way, right there on the phones, and she kept calling him by his real first name, which is not what he goes by and he corrected her in a polite but firm voice and she got that blocked shit straightened out, all the while trying to make us feel as if it were OUR fucking fault, which it was not, and then we were discussing something else, I don't remember, and I said, "Perhaps grandmothers should not own iPhones."
"Well," she said. "I have four grandchildren and I certainly have an iPhone!"
"Do you take care of them?" I asked.
"God no. They live in different states and I wouldn't have it any other way."
Well. There you go.
She obviously has a career, which is being a phone tech for Verizon and being bitchy to people who call for help and I am merely a grandmother who has to deal with (oh, the horror!) poopy diapers!
"I raised my three children and that was enough!" she said.
"Fuck you!" I said.
No. I did not. But I wanted to. Really, really badly.
I also wanted to tell her that undoubtedly, her children are as relieved as she is that they live in different states but again, I held my polite old Southern Woman tongue and thanked her kindly for her assistance.
You know, Siri is kind of a bitch to me too. The other day she informed me in her I-know-everything-and-you-don't tone of voice that I did not have to hit the button every time I wanted to say something different to her, I merely had to hold the phone to my ear.
Gawd, Siri. I didn't know you were MAGIC! But, it would appear that she is although she has not proven to be terrifically helpful to me so far. I am thinking we might need to get together for cocktails, do a little woman-to-woman bonding. You know? Because I know I'm old and I don't know all the tricks but I'm an old WOMAN, not an old DOG and I can learn.
And I am learning.
I just asked Siri, "What is your favorite cocktail?" and she responded, "My name is Siri and I was designed by Apple in California. That is all I'm prepared to say."
See? Bitch. Withholding bitch at that.
She probably won't tell me what color lipstick she wears either. Oh well. Her loss.
Anyway, Owen wasn't bitchy and when we laid down for nap time he gave me the BEST and BIGGEST hugs and squeezes and kisses and when I said, "Do you love Mer-Mer?" he said, "Uh-HUH!" and boy, I just about died with the sweetness. We read our book and I told him the Mr. Peep story and rubbed his back and he went to sleep and for once, I did not sleep too but got up and washed Zeke with flea shampoo and conditioned his fur and then later, thought I'd killed him with cortisone ointment on his back but no, he was still alive, and I still feel so...good...from my trip.
I just feel like what I think normal should be like which I suppose means that I am not suffering from grave anxiety or panic or even any real depression but am just totally okay with everything and no, I am not taking any drugs beyond the usual. I think it is just vacation residual effects and I don't know how long it'll last but as long as it does, I'm happy.
Mr. Moon has gone to auction and so I'm alone for the first time in forever and it's fine although when I went to kiss him good-bye I smelled his cologne and his own smell and I said, "I'm going to miss you so much," and I meant it with all of my being and I do. I've got soup going on the stove, the base of it being some soup that Lily made and brought over, with other things added that were just hanging out in the refrigerator and I'm texting Billy as we speak.
I am just so grateful to be a grandmother who gets to see her grandchild often, who gets squeezes and kisses from him. Who, when he is leaving, says, "One more!" I am so grateful to be the woman I am, living the life I am, who doesn't have to be a bitchy phone tech who feels superior to other old women for not being a bitchy phone tech and even glad not to be Siri, who knows everything but who won't tell anyone what her favorite cocktail is.
Or maybe rum and coke with lime which, as Siri would be quick to tell you, is also known as a Cuba Libre. Actually, I just asked Siri what a Cuba Libre is and she asked me if I'd like to search the web. I said, "No, thanks," and she replied, "Your satisfaction is all the thanks I need," and that's a very fine thing to say.
I love being a grown-up who has a new toy.
Maybe I could get a Siri costume and wear it next Halloween. I think it would have built-in boobs and serious glasses.
Or maybe not.
Gotta go stir the soup.
I'm sort of looking forward to tomorrow. What's up with THAT? Next thing you know, I'll be pooping unicorns and rainbows.
Probably not really.
But if I do, I'll let you know.
Born in El Paso and that's all I'm prepared to tell you at this point.