NukeBoy2 and Phoebe-May 09

The weekend started out good.  I accompanied NukeBoy2 to an overnight camp out with his scout den.  NukeBoy1 tagged along and we had a great time.  It was the first time I had been camping in over 20 years, and a first for the NukeBoys.  They loved it.  NukeBoy1 and I will be heading to the mountains later this month with his entire scout troop for a 3 night camp out that should make your Irish Spring stock go up.  I’m taking an extra bar just to stick in my sleeping bag, that way I can shower while I sweat.  We got to christen our new tent and that helped us appreciate the benefits of waterproofing.  It sprinkled over night, and the oversight of not venting our tent resulted in a rainstorm inside the tent in the morning.  Three human bodies in a closed tent mixed with the rising sun and 60% humidity equals wet walls.  We left it up to let it dry out and came back for it later.  So did 2 or 3 other “veteran” camping families, so I didn’t feel too bad.

The scouts performed a flag retirement ceremony over the campfire and I was taken by the words that were spoken.  Here stood 12 eager 8 and 9 year olds reading the words off of the cards they were holding, each of them clutching a stripe from a flag.  As each of the Original 13 states were named, another stripe went on the fire.  The scout would salute, then back away to allow the next scout to step forward with his stripe.  You can find the script they used here.  Towards the bottom there is an Optional Opening that gives a different perspective of the flag and what it means; or, used to mean.  It left me feeling a little pensive and lost in thought.  Just one day earlier I had recounted a story about one of my favorite teachers who, unbeknownst to me, had passed away last summer, so I guess the feeling of melancholy was to be expected, right?

When we got home Saturday I went and picked up a pallet of sod to repair our backyard.  This was pallet number 2.  Pallet number one was moved, laid and completed on Thursday; my body barely had time to recover before the second onslaught.  I had help on Thursday, but I was solo on Saturday; and boy, did my muscles feel it.  While I was laying the sod, I noticed that our 13 year old lab Phoebe was struggling more than usual to get around.  Her hips are bad and she had been slowly deteriorating over the last year or so.  By late afternoon, she could barely make it up the steps.  That night I heard her bark from the den, and when I went out to see what was the matter, I saw her trying to drag herself to the back door.  She couldn’t even stand up on her own.  I helped her up and she  made it outside, but balked at the steps off of the deck.  I picked her up and carried her to the grass to do her business, but her hips couldn’t even hold her up to do that.  Things didn’t get any better on Sunday, in fact, they got worse, so when I took her to the Vet early Monday morning I was prepared for the worst.  Or at least I thought I was.  She was obviously in pain and there was nothing they could do for her.  NukeMom and I had talked it over the night before, and I told the Vet that we needed to put her down.  I sat with her for a while and did my best to make her last moments good ones.  The Vet asked me if I wanted to leave the room and I told him no.  I owed Phoebe that much.  I can honestly say that it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.  When they asked me what I wanted to do with her body I was taken aback; I hadn’t even thought about it.  The Vet explained that all animals are cremated, and would I like to have the ashes?  I almost said no, but then decided yes.  I didn’t know why I said yes, I just said it.  When the kids got home from school I got to live it all over again.  NukeBoy1 took it well, but I knew that he would.  NukeBoy2 loves animals, especially his.  He was devastated.  NukeGirl was the same.  I held them and tried to comfort them, and when I told them about the ashes and that we could do something special for Phoebe, NukeBoy2 suggested putting them in the garden they are about to plant.  I knew then why I had said yes when they asked me if I wanted the ashes.

To top it all off I came across something else today.  Don’t they say that bad things come in threes?  Through a series of events that would take too long to explain (you all know that I’m a stickler for brevity-cough, cough), I discovered that an old school mate of mine was killed in 2002.  That isn’t what threw me, though; the story his sister told about it did.  We had played football together.  He was a crazy wild man who was wickedly intelligent, but he sometimes talked and acted like a loon.  His father is fairly infamous as well; he was the first Abortionist ever convicted of murdering a fetus. (THIS LINK CONTAINS GRAPHIC CONTENT) While he was out on bail awaiting appeal, he performed and botched another abortion that killed the mother.  Not a lot of positive things happening in that family.  I guess it just hit me that while I thought that Regan could go either way in life, I never imagined him choosing the path that he did.  I just know that I’ve been beat over the head with unhappy endings and finality the last week or so and I’m ready for a Spongebob marathon.  Or will that change the saying to bad things come in fours?

Our first word this week is deipnosophist; meaning a person who is an adept conversationalist at the table.  They don’t specify which table, but I guess it could be the dinner table, bargaining table or operating table.  Lots of Doctors out there that don’t know when to shut up.  President-Elect Obama would do well to work on his deipnosophistry and shy away from the teleprompter.  I guess we could say that about almost every politician in Washington.  You know the most dangerous place in Washington D.C.?  Between Chuck Schumer and a television camera.  Our second word this week is maladroit; which means; lacking in adroitness; unskillful; awkward; bungling; tactless.  Look it up and you’ll see a picture of the McCain campaign and most of the Republican party.  I thought the Dem’s mascot was the Jackass.  The Democrats should take advantage of their near super-majority to vote for a change of mascots.  They could give the Republicans the Jackass, and debut their new mascot: a Rabbit with a Blackberry, blue-tooth earpiece and a wallet big enough to hold $600,000,000 running circles around a Jackass.  Don’t forget to check out the BWW Homepage for all of our entries to date

Go by and say Hi to Joeprah, he’s finally resurfaced.  He said the aliens treated him fine, but due to excessive “experimentation” by the aliens, he has to stay lying down for at least a week.  Doctors orders.  He also said he now prefers Reese’s Pieces to M&M’s.  Wierd. 

Doesn’t seem fair all these years later, does it?  13 Trillion dollars in exportable consumer goods and a city in exchange for two sterile Panda bears.  So much for that zoo breeding program.  I still wonder how the Chinese are able to extract all that lead from their polluted air and put it in things like dog food and paint for children’s toys.  Maybe that was one of the things that Nixon gave them that the government never told us about; Lead technology.  Erstwhiles.

Our first word this week is Yangtze.  The Yangtze river is the third longest river in the world, but it is one of the deadliest.  Floods have claimed over half a million lives since 1911 alone.  To control flooding, the Chinese are building The Three Gorges Dam.  When they are done in 2009, it will be one and a quarter miles across and over 600 feet high, making it the largest dam in the world.  All the Chinese had to do to accomplish this is displace over 1.3 million people, submerge over 1,500 cities, towns and villages, and put between 20,000 and 30,000 men to work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for 15 years.  THAT is some serious overtime.  Oh, yeah, almost forgot; some say it will be the biggest environmental disaster ever.  Guess that’s not Inconvenient enough for Al Gore.  Wow.  I went all Robert Kennedy Jr. there for a minute, sorry.  Whether you are for it or against it, it is an amazing project; what the future holds is anyone’s guess.     

After searching for a good word related to the Olympics, I come up empty.  So I made one up.  Phelped will soon enter the lexicon as a verb meaning; to get beaten soundly; trounced; obliterated.  Seemed like a logical word to make up seeing how the only competition Michael Phelps has is dolphins and Cuban refugees.  Don’t send hate mail, I’m friends with some Cubans and they laughed when I tested it on them.  So there you have it; an unconventional BWW, but interesting still the same.  I’ll provide you with a link for Phelped once Urban Dictionary puts it up.  Provided; that is, that they accept it.  Check out the BWW Home Page for your Medal of vocabulary Gold.

The second word this week is a contribution from my sister Stacey.  Wasn’t that a TV show; My Sister Stacey?  No?  Well, it should have been.  The word she contributed is trichotillomania; which is the compulsion to pull ones hair out.  Being a teacher, I can see where she gets it from.  I have three kids, and, at times, a genuine compulsion to become a trichotillomaniac, but since I’m already follicly challenged, I’ve learned to maintain.  Edgar and Ethan, the two stalwart follicles who are holding their own about 6 inches north of my eyebrow ridge, thank me for it.  They know they are only weeks or perhaps days from being washed down the shower drain anyway; they certainly don’t need any harassment from me.  Check out the BWW Home Page for missed assignments, and let’s get those overdue words in; other people are waiting to check them out.

This weeks second word is sycophant; meaning a self-seeking, servile flatterer; fawning parasite.  You can also use Toady, Yes Man or Flunky to the same effect.  Picture Dwight Schrute fawning over Michael Scott in The Office, or Bill Clinton in his new role as Hillary’s biatch.  The pronunciation is “Sicko” rather than “Psycho” fant.  Everybody has known one at some time in their lives; the person who is so good at kissing ass that they actually list it on their resume under Skills Acquired.  I worked for a few and thankfully all but one of them got what was coming to them.  Check out the BWW Home Page for the full list of verbaliciousness.

Farcical is our second word this week.  It means; pertaining to or of the nature of farce; ludicrous; absurd.  A good example would be, oh, I don’t know, um, like, how about someone who’s afraid of a number?  That would be farcical, don’t you think?  I mean, can you imagine yourself screaming whenever you saw the number 7?  You’d NEVER be able to watch a football game, let alone take a trip to Vegas.  Musicals?  Forget about it; no 7 Brides for 7 Brothers for you.  Movies?  You can forget the James Bond franchise, that’s for sure.  No Brad Pitt chasing Kevin Spacey in the rain while Morgan Freeman thinks about retirement either.  No Magnificent 7, 7 Percent Solution, 7 Year Itch or 7 Easy Pieces.  You could only enjoy Sinbad’s Golden Voyage.  Snow White is weeping right now.  I won’t even mention the sins, you obviously have enough going on right now.  Do us all a favor?  Get over it.  Don’t forget to check out the BWW Home Page for our progress up to now.  Go flex your brain muscle.