Monday, March 13, 2006

The weekend is over

The dogwoods are blooming and they stink. You can usually smell them way before you can see them, that's how strong an odor they put off. That's why you get to see pictures of their blossoms here in this post. Aren't they pretty?

Friday Peanut was released from school at 12:30 so we spent the rest of the day in Richmond killing the hours until it was time to meet his dad.

First we bought 4 loaves of cheap bread to feed the ducks, and then we got our haircut at the place in Carytown I just love. It was mostly so we could fix the bad haircut a lady gave him at Super Clips the weekend before (and that we now have to grow out because R. chopped Peanut's hair up even worse).

Then we fed the ducks. After about 1 loaf, Peanut was over the duck/goose/pigeon/seagull feeding and started playing while I finished. What's really cool is if you throw the bread up in the air, a few seagulls will race to catch it.

During all this, many other people were out with their kids feeding the various water fowl other snacks, mainly bread. There were a lot of Canada geese in attendance and, as many of you may or may not know, most geese/ducks are life partners. Well, apparently there was a boy goose trying to get in on another boy goose's girl so a fight ensued. It was interested to watch because geese don't really have teeth or sharp claws on their webbed feet. Sure they can be nasty at times, their fights aren't fatal. Eventually they untangled themselves, the intruder getting the point and hightailing it out of there. The victor squawked after any goose that came near him except his girlfriend. This relationship development became obvious once the two swam off together, side-by-side, the boy intermittedly calling out to the others to back the fuck up.

After that, Peanut announced that it was "Children's Museum time!" So off we went to play in the burping stomach and grocery store sponsored by Ukrop's.

We spent 1.5 hours there, with me chasing him from section to section as he explored the museum he's been to a bazillion times.

When it was time to head out to meet his dad, Peanut whined but came with relative ease. I was thankful because it is not fun carrying a screaming and kicking 6 year old out of an otherwise quiet building (or anywhere else for that matter).

I was excited to see his dad was at the halfway point a full 2 hours earlier considering, when I had asked R. the previous evening if he could possibly be there any earlier, he snapped at me, telling me he had to work (this coming from a guy who takes off work on a whim or leaves early on a regular basis).

So I dropped Peanut off and headed to my friend NASCAR Nut's house where I introduced him to Thai food, :).

Saturday morning I got the distinct pleasure of waiting in the local Firestone lobby while 4 new tires were put on my car. When I asked the guy behind the desk to switch the TV to CNN, the following dialogue ensued:

Me: Could you please switch the TV to CNN?
Guy: (getting the remote and paper with channels) I don't even know what it is....
Me: It's a news channel.
Guy: I know that, I mean, isn't it what they call the "Clinton News Network?"
Me: not blinking, Um, no, it's CNN.
Guy: It's biased.
Me: No it's not (and thinking, how the hell does he know if he's never bothered to watch it?)
Guy: Yes it is.
Me: (sitting back down at this point) If it were biased, there'd be a lot more Bush-bashing on there and well, since there isn't enough to my liking, it's not biased.
Guy: He walked out onto the floor at this point.

Later, more info on the death of Milosevic was being aired and he came to stand in front of the TV. My first thought was to tell him:

"Careful, it's biased so you might actually learn something!"

But I kept that to myself. Instead I answered his question of "Have they found him guilty yet?" with a "No, but it doesn't matter now because he's dead." I do remember referring to him a Hitler-lite, because he was.

Ahhh, republican ignorance. I'm sure he thinks FOX is the bee's knees.

Seriously though, I need to wear a sign when I go in there that says, "Don't ask me about anything other than what I'm here to have done. I know my car, I know what I'm doing for the most part and I do a lot of my own work so stop assuming I'm just another dumb broad."

Fer realz, because just maybe, they'll stop treating me like one.

You see, Sunday I replaced my back brakes pretty much by myself except when I needed some stronger muscles to get a certain bolt off and my dad's knowledge to get the right drum off. He did it the old fashioned way with a hammer and thick metal pole. Now I'm sore all over and somehow busted my left pointer finger so that it had a decent sized blood blister, which I popped once I cleaned my hands. Now it hurts naturally and is a little swollen.

Eh, nothing I can't handle.