Sylvester and the Magic Pebble

One of my favorite times of day is when I’m putting Adam to bed and reading to him. He’s drowsy, I’m tired, and we get to have a little cuddle while we read. Sometimes, Austin joins us and we have an even sweeter time together.


I read Sylvester and the Magic Pebble, which was one of Austin’s all time favorites. It’s about a donkey named Sylvester, who finds a magic pebble. Through an unfortunate mishap, Sylvester is separated from his parents for awhile, which makes them all sad, but they are reunited at the end and realize that their family being together is what they all wish for. It’s a very sweet little book, which if you haven’t tried, I highly recommend.

http://www.amazon.com/Sylvester-Magic-Pebble-Aladdin-Picture/dp/0671662694

At the end of the book, Adam said, “That defin-ly is not a good book.” I said, “Why?!” Austin overheard and said, “Adam! How could you not like that book? It’s so good!” And Adam said, “Too much donkey. I like a little bit of donkey, but not so much donkey.”

There’s only so much donkey anyone should be expected to endure.

Gee, wonder why he was still single at 45

Before I met Jim, I had the world’s worst boyfriend. He was horrible for many, many reasons, but one of his least endearing qualities was his concern over my weight. He was skinny—not thin and lean, just wiry and bony. I dated this loser for about six months, which was six months too long.  Think "Shaggy" from Scooby Doo.


Because of his concern for my weight, he would plan long hikes and bike rides or “cook dinner” for me, which consisted of half of a bell pepper or half of a sweet potato. I wish I were kidding.

One wintry Sunday, I took a snowy walk with this horrible boyfriend. We were chugging along when we saw a humongous dog (think Saint Bernard) sniffing around by a shrub ahead of us. The dog looked up then started galloping toward us. This dog had a big, shaggy, brown coat of fur that made it look like a grizzly bear. I’m afraid of big dogs and felt a little panicked. The bonehead I was with leaned over to pet it and the dog nuzzled his jeans. Then I saw that the dark brown muzzle was covered with a schmear of lighter brown poo. The dog had been eating poo at the shrub! The moron said, “Don’t’ pet the dog—it has poo on it.” No kidding?! The dog continued on its way, and I saw the softball sized stain on horrible boyfriend’s jeans and said, “We have to get those off and cleaned!” Then we saw where the dog had been, and the poo was apparently of the human variety, because there was toilet paper in it. Someone decided to take a dump on this trail, and had planned for it with toilet paper. The trail was in no way in the woods; it was just off a state highway, and the sound of traffic was not far off, and houses could be seen from where we were. At that point, I was dry heaving, begging him to go back so we could get the poop jeans out of my sight.

If that had been me that the dog/bear had smeared with poo, I would have gnawed my own leg off or at the very least, stripped off my jeans and run back to the car. Then I would have taken the world’s hottest shower, followed by pouring boiling bleach on the part of my leg that had been under the jeans. And I would have an emergency therapy appointment. Ack! Even now, I heave.

Since it was Sunday, I had planned a dinner at home. I was making a nice dinner, with some yummy rolls, chicken, and salad. When we got to my house, I told him he could use some sweat pants of mine and I’d wash his pants. He declined because there was no way my pants would fit him—ha! (In a cruel twist, he gave me some snow pants for Austin because they didn’t fit him and was horrified when I tried them on and they fit!) So, he sat there in poopy jeans all through dinner. I kept watching his hand rest on his thigh between bites, watching for it to avoid the poo, but he was oblivious.

The next Wednesday, I went to see him in town and what was he wearing? Poop Jeans! He hadn’t washed them even then, and was continuing to wear them! I couldn’t hide my disgust and said that I couldn’t be around the disgusting filth. He said that actually, he didn’t believe jeans should ever be washed, because they lose that “new jeans” finish. That was it. A bad boyfriend is one thing; one that wears human feces on his clothes is another.

What else?

Let’s see, my job has furloughed 10 of its 16 employees. I am thankful to still be there, but am holding on by covering for several jobs, and took a 20% pay cut (and a cutback to 32 hours). Yesterday, I flooded the decontamination area when I opened the autoclave door which had been stuck. My boss tried to help open it with brute force, pulling every lever and turning every knob, including one called “Fill”. When I finally figured out that the door release wasn’t pushing in far enough, I used a screwdriver to release the door, and started the waterworks.

There are several jobs that I don’t know how to do, so I have had to pull out manuals and instructions and just follow the directions. It feels awkward, and I don’t feel competent, which is not a comfortable feeling, but I’m slogging through.

Jim lost his job. He won’t have a hard time finding another one, and it was definitely not a good place for him, but on top of possibly losing my job by April (when the company will run out of $$$) the uncertainty of where he will be working has kept me from sleeping very well. I was up last night until 2, and I watched Conan, Jimmy Fallon, two pre-recorded Colbert Reports and one Daily Show.

Austin is refusing to go to Marc’s house and of course, Marc thinks it is because I am not encouraging him to go. He doesn’t think that it’s because he created a relationship with Austin that centers around X-Box and that when he takes it away, there is nothing left. No, that couldn’t be it. He swears at Austin and throws things at him, then objects to the same behavior from Austin.

My dear friend left our company yesterday and I am really going to miss her. She took another job, that will pay her 20% more, which is definitely better than the 20% cut she would have had here. But still, she was one of the nice things about being here.

And that’s the end of the blues, for now.

At least the weather has improved. The tundra has melted from the roads, so they’re a little less terrifying. I’m knitting a lot, and enjoying myself doing it, although I haven’t made it to knitting group in a month.

Mom has discovered the joys of audiobooks. Austin had an older ipod nano that he is letting her use, and I have loaded a few books on it for her. She has listened to “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” and is now listening to “The Audacity of Hope” and “American Gods”. I also put “The Kite Runner” on for her. Where she works, she has to stay up all night, which is hard to do in a dark, quiet room. She has a headlamp, so now she listens to audiobooks while knitting, and that seems to help her stay awake.

One of my friends was picked by the Boston Globe for their blind date feature. He was matched up to a woman that they felt was compatible, and they met last night for dinner and drinks. Must have been good because M said that he was out until 1 and had a great time! I’ll be so glad if he finds someone because he is just so nice. I told him it would be funny if he “closed the deal” on their first date because it would be in the newspaper. He didn’t think it would be that funny.

One time, one of my friends was dating this woman and she was kind of a jerk with him. They broke it off, and he implied it was less than friendly. Well, my girlfriend and I figured out her full name and called him while he was on a business trip, saying that Jane Doe had called and was really needing to talk to him, but didn’t have his cell phone. Well, my doofy friend thought that he had impregnated her, so he was sweating bullets! He called her and said that he heard that she was trying to reach him. She texted him something to the effect “You wish!” When we told him the truth, he did not think it was nearly as funny as we did. That’s what one sleepless night does to a guy, I guess. He still doesn’t think it’s funny.

No big plans for the weekend. Jim is around, and Austin will be home, so my quiet Friday evenings that I had grown accustomed to may have ended.

We had a nice birthday party for Adam the other day.  I asked him how old he is and he said, "What's after, after 7?"  So, he said that now he's 9, and that he wanted to have a special entrance.  We turned off the lights, put candles in some cake, lit them and started singing "Happy Birthday".  He rode in on his scooter, blew them out and we had cake.  Then he wanted to play musical chairs, so we did.  If anyone is looking through our windows, they're wondering why we have 2-3 birthday parties per week, but they're fun and harmless.

Lety