I'm sorry for the lack of updates

My youngest son Felix, the little nob, came out of the closet.
Well, he didn't actually come OUT of the closet, he accidentally locked himself IN the closet and when we finally got the door open he was wearing his sister Moonie's nurses outfit over his mother's capri pants.

The Winter Olympics

Me and Felix, the little nob, made a deal concerning the Olympics.
He doesn't have to watch hockey and I don't have to watch figure skating.

Some things are best left alone

The damnedest thing happened tonight.
When Moonie and Felix, the little nob, got back from play practice they were skipping and singing
"I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair
I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair
I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair
I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair"
Over and over again.
When they saw me in the kitchen they both started laughing and ran up stairs together.
It's good that the two of them are getting along, but what do you make of that?

Cookie and her blubbering

When I got home today Cookie was sitting at the kitchen table with a piece of paper in her hand and blubbering like a baby.
Geez oh Pete, what has Moonie done now!
Cookie handed me the paper.
It was an assignment from Felix's english class.
He had to write something called a haiku, which is some kind of poem.
This is what Felix wrote.

My dad is the best
He likes hockey, but I don't
He doesn't judge me

The little nob. I think that deserves a couple of Jay and Jay Chicken Burgers.

Cookie, stop that blubbering will ya!

What's in a name?

The dog has a name.
Moonie suggested that Felix call him Boz.
Moonie said that Boz was the nickname of the writer Charles Dickens and that our Boz's story is like a classic Dickensian tale.
I told you Moonie was different.
I wonder if that book she carries around all the time is a classic Dickensian tale?
So I guess Boz is here to stay, 'cause a name sort of makes it permanent, doesn't it.

The smell of the greasepaint

They're doing a play called South Pacific down at the school next month and my daughter Moonie is going to be the set designer and she asked us if Felix, the little nob, could help her out as an assistant.
I asked Moonie what the play was about and she said it was about Marines in World War II.
I told Cookie that this could be the perfect thing to get Felix's mind off figure skating. Marines and World War II are about as far away from figure skating as you can get.
So of course I ... we, said it was ok.
You know, I'm pretty handy with a hammer and a saw myself, and I thought maybe I could pitch in and lend a hand.
Thank god it's not one of those tutti-fruiti musicals like Cookie dragged me off to see in Halifax that one time when Lexter was a baby and Cookie was pregnant with Darlene and Betty Anne.
For the life of me I can't remember what it was called but it had a lot of singing cats in it, if you can believe that!

Man's best friend

Betty Anne can sometimes say the stupidest things.

Felix, the little nob, had brought home a little one eyed pug dog that somebody had abandoned by the trash bin out back of the Quickie Mart.

Anyway, Cookie, and Darlene, and Moonie were out in the kitchen fussing something awful over the pooch when Betty Anne walks in all high and mighty and says:
My god, I've seen cuter looking rats out at the dump. Felix, next time try for a poodle, or better yet, just stick to figure skating.

After seeing how much fun the others were having that just frosted my butt to no end and without even thinking I said:
Betty Anne, the world isn't always a cute place and the sooner you find that out the better, now go out to the shed and help your brother find that box that the chain saw I got for Christmas came in, cause I'll be damned if that dog is going to share a bed with me.

Betty Anne also has crap clean-up duty for the next three weeks.

Our different one

When you have five kids I guess you have to expect one to be a little different than all the rest.
Moonie would be our different one.
If she were to stay here she could easily get a job doing nursing at the hospital, but sometimes when she takes her nose out of that damn book she is always reading you can see a faraway look in her eye and you realize that the first chance she gets she'll be running off to Toronto or, heaven forbid, the States, and they'll be no looking back.
I'd worry about her, for sure, but I'd be more worried if she stayed here and was miserable for the rest of her life.

Trying to quit

Cookie has been on me to quit smoking again.
She tells me to think of the grand kids and how breathing my cigarette smoke can't be good for them.
Now Cookie knows I would never do anything to hurt the little nobsters, but every time I think about quitting I see Felix with his weak ankles, or Moonie having one of her spells, or Darlene and Betty Anne being Darlene and Betty Anne and I just automatically light up another Rothmans.

That time of month

At eleven o'clock last night Cookie decided she would start her time of the month, and guess who had to drive half way to Halifax because Cookie forgot to buy them the last time she went to the supermarket?
For the love of all things holy Cookie, there are four of you, why can't you buy in bulk?
And when Felix starts snooping around and discovers the box in the back of the bathroom cabinet you're going to have to explain it to him, and when you're done explaining it to Felix can you maybe explain it to me one more time?