the wiener mom and those #@!!** birds

Ahhh... yes, nature. You gotta love nature don't you, I mean DON'T You? And I do ( I swear) except for one part of it- the earliness.

I am forced by a variety of wieners to awaken before 7:00 6 days out of 7. I know, I know, 6:45 doesn't sound so bad, but I like to sleep. I think I need about 9 hours a day, which surprise, surprise I'm not getting. I have an issue with sleep; I have a hard time falling back asleep if I'm awoke. Once my brain turns on, it's on and churning away at such important matters as dialogue from a movie, calculating how many pounds I would lose by X date, if I lost X pounds a week, that sort of mental diarrhea.

So... Friday 4:00 AM (yes, that's in the morning). Those #@!!** birds have convened in the trees outside my window. By convene I mean that obviously there's some kind of neighborhood bird conference taking place now, at 4 am. I guess they really abide by that old adage about the bird and the worm (haha). I've never heard this many birds in our yard during any normal hours of the day, so my only thought is they must fly in especially for this conference. there must be a shuttle from the hotel and name tags. There's got to be bad coffee and donuts at 4 that they don't want to miss. I picture them milling around with a Styrofoam cup somehow held in one wing and a pastry in the other, briefcase tucked under the wing. "The nests in this hotel are awful" "I asked for a smoking room, but obviously someone was smoking." "You want to hit the telephone wire after the sessions?"

What do birds meet about at 4 am? Worms, nest building strategies, general survival. What else could there be? Maybe this was a conference for the MENSA birds and they were actually hammering out a solution for inter-species peace or a cure for cancer or mange. I don't know and I really don't care. Whatever it was, it reached a fever pitch.

Then it started to rain and that seemed to break up their little meeting pretty damn quick. Just a few hangers-on sneaking the extra pastries into their briefcases to take home for the kids.

Yes, this is what I'm thinking about at 4 am. Mental diarrhea.

the wiener mom and the blessing of a wiener's honesty

Middle wiener: Wow, mom. Your underwear are really big!
Thank you so kindly. I had wondered if perhaps my butt was getting too small, but no. Not so.

the wiener and the mysterious pull of the business debacle that is the lemonade stand

It's tiiiiiime... I saw my first one over the weekend. There they were, set up right next to the bike trail; never mind that most people biking or running on the trail are doing so for exercise and are not prepared to make any purchases, however enticing they might be. And what I ask you is more enticing than a dixie cup of kool-aid, or dare I even hope... countrytime lemonade?

The lemonade stand: a rite of passage for all children with any amount of interest in money or fleeting boredom. I remember my first (and only) lemonade stand. I didn't carry lemonade, because my mom said it was too expensive to make, which I totally didn't get. It's just like water and lemons and sugar right? Oh, but you need like a thousand and eleven lemons to make a pitcher of lemonade. So I had kool-aid. Important decisions were made. Signage was considered and created in a way to woo the most consumers. Prices were set. 10 cents, no, 20, no how about 25 cents. I was going to be rich! Then two hours and a small pile of dixie cups later, I've got $2.75 in my pocket and a heat rash. My mom wasn't even one of those tough love moms that demanded back the money to pay for the kool-aid.

So, the lemonade stand lives on, still mostly kool-aid stands because with inflation and the weakened dollar, blah, blah, blah (throw global warming in there too) lemons probably cost twice as much as they did twenty odd years ago. You probably also need twice as many, becuase of course they don't make lemons like they used to. The kids now encourage you to recycle your cup with their cute pro-environment crayoned signs. The cup of kool-aid is likely to cost at least 50 cents now. You're also more likely to be harassed by the proprieters than you used to be. "Hey, you, buy some lemonade! Hey! Hey!"

I know the day will come when big wiener fancies himself a businessman and sets up a card table in the drive way. He's already shown some interest. He was eyeing up the lemons at the grocery store, before I dashed his dreams by trying to explain how expensive they are. What will I say when he approaches me with a business plan to make millions by dispensing beverages to passers by?

I'll try not to be too cynical. I'll find him a sleeve of tiny cups that just begin to peak the thirst of a buyer, enticing them into another 50 cent cup. I'll help him spell lemonade, or maybe not. Maybe it's cuter if it's misspelled. Cuter, or more endearing at least. I'll watch from the front porch to make sure he's not abducted, or mowed down by a car that jumps the curb. I'll give him a hug when he comes to tell me that he only made $2.75. I won't even make him pay for the kool-aid.

the wiener mom and one or so of those things that you just gotta love

You just gotta love...
six year old boy kung fu moves

crazy tickle torture on mom and dad's big bed

the smell of the head of a boy who has been outside all afternoon

cheese tacos (that's a shell and cheese)

watching your boy walk home from the bus stop when he doesn't know you're watching
Stopping to look at every bug, stick and rock and weighed down by a giant backpack

freshly picked dandelions

the first "MINE"

a handmade "may day basket" signed, "lvoe ____"

the earnest tone of any converstaion describing the merits of dolphins over sharks

the toddling walk, wide smile and scraped up forehead

the yawns

the complete and utter lack of ruffles

all of it