Last week was filled with final preparations and celebrations of Daughter's graduation from high school. After months of planning limos, flowers, parties, purchasing gowns, shoes, jewellry, preparing nails, hair and makeup... the day finally came to Honour the Honour Student with a Wednesday's Grad Dinner, Dance and Safe Grad until 4:30 am, and the Convocation ceremony on Friday morning. Then she was off to do it all over again for her boyfriend's graduation Friday evening until the wee hours of Saturday.

But at least the stress and sleep deprivation of those days would soon be rewarded with a vacation that started Sunday. Daughter, Sam (here modelling her new Patriotic shirt) and I were off in our rented candy apple red Endeavour to Fargo, and now Minneapolis for a week.

Yep we're finally here. Our hotel is just blocks away from our final destination; the Mall of America.

So it was with great anticipation that I awoke this morning for an incredibly sinful IHOP breakfast before hitting the Mall for the day.

And so it was with great disappointment that Daughter awoke this morning... sick.

Gad.

If this post from nearly two years ago didn't convince you of my Uber-Geekiness, then this latest re-discovery certainly will clinch it.

While cleaning out the garage, Hubster (OMG, he is finally cleaning the garage!) unearthed a treasured item from my youth in The Stone Age the early 70s:

My Jewel Stone Rock Tumbler.

Yep. I was A Lapidary.

Well, my Dad was.

I was, in reality, A Lapidary Assistant. A Lapidary Protégé. A Lapidarian Apprentice.

Even though my parents had given me the tumbler, Dad ensured the required recipes of grit type, water and proper periods of electrical power were adhered to.

I helped pick out the stones. From then on everywhere I went, I travelled with my head down, searching for just the perfect specimens. After awhile, I got to know which type of raw rock would make the best polished gemstone.

But the most important ingredient was patience.

And luckily, my Dad has the patience of a Saint. He even kept the whole kit, stones and all for me. When unpacking it last night, not unlike Indiana Jones, I made an incredible discovery: one jar had remained sealed after all these years. Following numerous futile attempts at prying it open, I finally succeeded - to find it still had rocks inside!

After washing them up, I added them

to even more he had stored in an old ice cream tub in the box:

Yes, it's a good thing I had that Jewel Stone Rock Tumbler. In just a few decades, I had polished rocks like Mother Nature would have created...

... in erm, just a few decades.

It sucks driving to work on a Monday morning.

It sucks even more having to drive to work on a Monday morning in the rain.

It really sucks having to drive to work on a Monday morning, in the rain, behind a police car that just turned onto the street up ahead.


Because no matter how slow they drive (and of course they drive as s-l-o-w-l-y as legally possible) no one has the guts to pass them. It doesn't matter that we are all law-abiding citizens. All the traffic slowed down too.

Including me.

Stay out of their sight! Don't do anything stupid!

Are my tail lights working? Gad, I didn't do my "walk around the car checking them all before every trip" this morning. To be honest, I have NEVER done my "walk around the car checking all the lights". Ever. (Well, not since that day I got my licence in 1976).

Is my insurance sticker still stuck to my licence? I put it on in February... maybe it fell off.

Are my windows clear? Are my tires inflated properly?

Gaaaaaah!

Stupid police car.

But I knew the snail-like procession wouldn't have to crawl behind them much longer. There was a Tim Horton's up ahead.

Yup. True to form, the Call of the Donut saved Rush Hour once again.

After they turned off, we all rushed past to make up for lost time.

It's not just for humans anymore ....

Ahhhhhh. Finally. Home after another long workday. With the house to myself for awhile at least, I was looking forward to relaxing before the family came home for dinner.

So I sat in my favorite recliner by the front window and put my feet up as the laptop booted. Outside, a commotion caught my eye. A blackbird was attacking another bird on the lawn; a tiny thing only capable of verbally berating it, until two more birds swooped into the fray and chased the bully blackbird away.

Aw... it was a Fledgling Robin, with Mom and Dad Robin hovering protectively nearby. Wisps of down still crowned his head and his stubby wings flapped, but were not yet capable of flight. So he hopped everywhere around our front yard, quickly ducking into the short grass when a car roared past. His parents took turns digging into our lawn for some wormy sustinance, and opening its beak as wide as possible to reveal his bright orange gullet, he greedily gobbled his dinner down.

Each time pedestrians walked nearby, the parent Robins flew into a nearby tree or bush, leaving The Fledgling to scrunch down alone into the camouflage of the grass. When it was safe once again, they soared down to feed their baby more wriggling treats.

Then it happened. While the parents were away, the Fledgling decided to explore and to my horror was inching dangerously close to the busy street.

I was out of my chair in a flash. I'm sure the neighbors thought me crazy, shooing the tiny adventurer back towards the house. When Mom and Dad Robin returned, they watched my every move from the birch tree, as I successfully herded their Baby back to safety.

Perhaps I was too successful. After taking some closeup photos of my new friend, I began to walk back inside the house.

Only to hear a frantic "Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!" behind me.

The Fledgling was following my footsteps across the lawn.

"No no, sweetie... You stay here." (Yes, as a matter of fact, I DO talk to animals.)

And as I returned to my chair by the window, I smiled to see Mom and Dad Robin taking turns feeding their mischievous Fledgling yet again.

You'd think in this day and age people would be a tad more considerate. I mean really; instead of acting like they live in a bubble, I wish they would start thinking of their neighbors. And realize that their actions affect us all; the people who have to share the same earth.

But noooo.... they just breeze through their life, only concerned about themselves, not caring a whit that they are polluting everyone's environment.

What am I ranting on about?

The Hummer.

Yep, the crazy woman my daughter and I were forced to listen to as we awaited the Orthodonist.

Seconds after we arrived in the dental waiting room, my ears were assaulted with a strange sound; not unlike the buzzing of an irritating mosquito... but I couldn't quite pinpoint its origin. My face must have revealed my aggravation, for daughter nudged me, rolled her eyes and nodded her head toward the culprit. Duh! The only other person in the otherwise silent room was sitting at the end of our row of chairs, reading a magazine and humming.

And humming.

And humming some more.

And not quietly. Oh no. This was LOUD humming.

The kind that prevents any kind of concentration on anything...

... except the humming.

So in lieu of scrambling over the chairs and forcably attempting to mute her, WE began to hum. Really loudly. Sadly... it didn't work. It didn't even faze her.

She just kept on humming. The LEAST she could have done was hum something decipherable, but regrettably it was the musical equivalent of gibberish.

Daughter was overjoyed when her reprieve finally came to leave and get her braces tightened. I was left to bear a far greater pain. For I had to wait alone and endure...

The Hummer.


Oh, you didn't think I meant THIS type of Hummer


did you?

Well, yeah, I hate those Hummers almost as much.

Almost.

Me: How about we go see Star Trek on Sunday?

Hubster: Sure!

Me: Yep. On SUNDAY.

Hubster: Okay...

Me: Because it's a Special Day.

Hubster:

Me: You don't know what's on Sunday, do you?

Hubster: Er.... Star Trek?

Me:

Hubster:

Me: SUUUUUNDAY. A "Special Day".

Hubster: *Click* Oh! (Face contorts into that Holy Crap! expression)

Me:

Hubster: I nearly forgot!

Me: I know. (Yeah... NEARLY forgot....) Happy 29th Anniversary to you too there honey.

What do you get when you perform the following calculation:


Do you get:

a) One ear-splitting, nerve-rattling KE-RASH!

b) One kajillion tiny shards of glass, melted wax bits and small decorative stones strewn across three rooms.

c) One severely pissed-off cat owner who was just preparing for bed.

d) One hour of crawling on hands and knees, picking said kajillion tiny shards of glass, wax bits and small decorative stones from carpet and dining room chair seats.

e) One protracted stream of curse words whilst picking out nigh-invisible, yet still painful, shards of glass from fingers and thumbs.

f) One thrilling session of vacuuming after midnight.

g) One freaked-out cat hiding for her life in the basement.

h) One grumpy blogger barely functioning on four hours sleep.

i) One shopping trip to re-purchase a large glass hurricane lamp.

j) All of the above.


And even if you don't have a cat, I'll wager you know the answer too.