Three gerbils walk into a classroom...

Well, actually, we didn't walk.  We were abducted by the "great giant hand" that once in a while throws us some food and removes the little blue water source that we have to lick every day to just get a lousy drink of water....Hello, my name is Tree Frog, and I'm a white gerbil.  I was given this ridiculous name by the smaller of the five large mammals who do not live in the cage with me and my two roommates, "Brownie" named so because he is brown which I find completely racist and "Ting Ting" because the smallest of the cageless mammals thought it was funny to repeat words...We like to make fun of him for that and often say, "Hey, Ting Ting, want to go to the other side of the cage for some chow chow?"  We get a lot of mileage from that joke, and joking helps since we're not really, uh, you know, able to go anywhere except on the wheel which Brownie hogs all the time...until, today...

We were just all huddled together in the corner as usual trying to catch a few winks when suddenly the cage opened and in popped the great giant hand.  Instead of the usual flow of food into our food bowl, we were each randomly grabbed and put into a little plastic cage and ripped from the comforts of our little abode. I asked Brownie, who sometimes seems to know more than we do and was usually the last to be caught,  "Hey, what the heck is going on?"  He said, "Looks like it's field trip day..hold onto your tails boys.  We're goin to the outback!" We sniffed the parameters and tried our best to find an escape. We were moving a lot faster than the wheel usually goes and on this trip, when we stopped moving, everything looked different.

The next thing I remember, the smells were a lot different than back at home.  I think I heard one of the big mammals call this the "2nd grade classroom".  It was quiet at first and then it was like rolling thunder in the background moving closer and closer. We all huddled together and prayed for it to be over, but it was no where near over.  I recognized one of the smaller mammals from home.  It was the one who had named me Tree Frog because of my red eyes.  She must have not done very well in her science class and not learned the difference between a frog and a gerbil.  Poor kid.  I couldn't worry about that just right now though cause I was too terrified about all the impending doom I could feel.  The biggest mammal, who must have been their leader, said, "Ok, quiet down now, and let Ellie tell us about her gerbils"..."Her gerbils?"  Oh, these pretentious mammals.  Who do they think they are?  Anyway, the ceiling opened and in came a smaller hand, but there was no food in it....only a forboding feeling that one of us was about to be snatched...to what purpose, I do not know....I squealed and then remembered a movie the little humans were watching that I could see from our home sanctuary which seemed so very far away now.  In this movie, the little hamsters- tailless lot that they are -gave the advice to "Pee in the hand! Pee in the hand!" and so I tried that, but I must have already dropped the goods before I actually landed in the hand cause up I rose and out of the little transport jail.  I sniffed the air, and tried to run...it was like being back on the wheel except it was just from one little hand to the next.  Where in the world did all these hands come from?

Finally, by some great unknown mercy, I was returned to the little transport jail and went to the corner where I huddled and tried to hide and tried desperately to forget that this day ever happened.  But it was not over...I had to watch in terror as the same fate awaited my roommates.  There is no telling what kind of nasty diseases we have picked up from these smaller mammals.  We must initiate emergency "clean your buddy" protocols immediatly...or at least as soon as we get back to the safety of our home...if that ever happens.

Once we had all been thoroughly violated, we were put back into the cage.  Then, after another moving through space episode, suddenly, we entered someplace that seemed a bit familiar.  The smells were the same and as if by some miracle, our humble safe house came into view.  It was almost worth being grabbed by the great giant hand just to be back into the corner and huddle. There was even fresh food.  We gathered together, held paws and sang "Kum Ba Ya".  We were blessed to be home.

Conspiracy Theory

I have no way to prove it, but I have a theory.  My children, each precious in their own special way, are on a mission to drive me insane.  This theory has developed over quite a few years.  Abby is 9 now and is honing her leadership skills with her younger sister Ellie, 7 yet devious, and little brother Jacob 5...who has the skill of selective hearing down to a science.

Their "Drive Momma To Drink" campaign meetings probably go something like this: 

Abby:  "Ok, today, when we get in the car to go to school, make sure that you ignore Mom when she says to put on your seatbelt.  Then, start picking at each other.  Jacob you scream at Ellie and tell her that you think she smells bad...Ellie, you pinch Jacob a little bit, and then Jacob you pretend to cry like she just pinched your arm off.   Let's let this continue until we almost get to school, then Jacob, I want you to suddenly remember that you're not wearing shoes and begin to panic and cry and have a fit...I'll start talking about one of my friends at school who acts like she doesn't like me, and I'll pretend to cry and ask Mom why she can't home school us.  Next, when we get home make sure you throw all your dirty clothes into the pile of the clean clothes and don't even think about picking up your clothes and putting them in your room.  The goal is zero organization..got it?  Oh, and for the sake of all the candy in the world, please don't flush the toilet!  Just do your business and walk away. We'll have more instructions later.  Let's let her get good and steamy before we throw in the old "Oh, I just remembered I have a science project due tomorrow" on her.  She'll be locked in her room hiding under the covers in no time."

Yep, that's my theory...and I'm stickin to it. 

-Yvette

Dead man's clothes walking....

    My mother in law doesn't like for ANYTHING to go to waste. My husband came home last night from a visit to her house to watch the Oklahoma/Texas game with his Dad, and in his arms were two pairs of jeans and a really ugly Hawaiian shirt. It seems like every time we go to her house, we come back with something that we neither needed or wanted.  She doesn't want to be a pack rat...She just wants to make me one!  I didn't really want to tell Troy that it was a hideous shirt, but he could tell from the look on my face.   I knew he hadn't been shopping so I asked where he got the new duds...
    He said, "Well, Mom's neighbor's husband died and she was giving away his clothes and Mom thought I might need these." 
    "Really?", I said..."Uh, that's a little creepy, don't you think?" 
    He said, "Well, no.  That guy isn't gonna need them anymore."
    Now, I know that we can't take it with us, but at least let me have the chance to just go to the Good Will store and buy anonymous origin clothes instead of knowing that just last week, a living body was walking around in these. However, now, I'm a little creeped out because there are two pairs of jeans still on the kitchen table and a dead man's Hawaiian shirt in the bedroom floor...cause Troy doesn't pick up after himself and that dead guy sure ain't gonna come do it.
    What have I learned from this other than to keep my mother in law away from funerals?  On a personal level, I have learned that I get creeped out by clothes on my kitchen table that - up until recently- belonged to a now deceased person and we (being Troy) should learn that tiny little cute, but oh so effective, two letter word called "No". 

Be like the hummingbird...

     I put a hummingbird feeder on the deck just outside my kitchen window.  At first, there were no hummingbirds that came to feed.  Then, one day, there was a flutter, followed by another visit but only by one hummingbird.  Over the course of about a week, that little fella, I'll call him Rambo, decided that this would be HIS own personal feeder.  Any other brother hummingbirds would just have to vacate the premises and find another watering hole. In all my life, I had never seen a hummingbird actually perch until Rambo came along.  I call him Rambo because of the way he will dive and attack any and all other hummingbirds that dare to flutter by his feeder. When he is perched, I can see how beautifully simple he is.  He has a green chest and brown back, and a very long hummingbird like beak.  He's so elegant.
     He's turning into a good teacher too.  Just this morning, I realized that Rambo is being used to teach me about the importance of resting.  Even hummingbirds perch sometimes because most of the time he's fighting off all the other critters that would take away his stuff.  Lots of little birds and bugs pick at him constantly...trying to wear away his peace and calm.  In spite of all that, he rests.  I know that God will give me the strength to fight all the other bugs and birds that try to pick away at my peace...just the way He gives Rambo his resolve to fight, but rest and perch.  Time to fill up the feeder.