final countdown

Where to begin, where to begin?

When Lee moved into the house across the street he prefaced the pleasantries of introductions with a numerical countdown of days till he became a millionaire.

"Three hundred eighty-six more days uh this an I'll be outta here!"

I didn't know what he meant, but assumed it related to his condition of being home all the time without a car, subsiding on government food vouchers, and talking about magical orbs and spirits.
As time elapsed Lee's countdown decreased, and he explained that he would be entitled to his millions when George W Bush was no longer president. When the figure dropped below three digits I realized that it was, in fact a countdown till inauguration day; Jan 20th 2009.

After returning to Knoxville from my extended Christmas vacation I was shocked and alarmed to realize how low the countdown had dwindled. Jason and I had always chalked it up to fantasy; assuming that something would happen before the day arrived, but here we were, just days till inauguration. I decided that I would be gone that day, but the days leading up to the 20th were so uneventful I forgot to take precautions.

When the day arrived Fox and I watched the ceremonial preparations unfold on television, and occasionally glanced across the street to check Lee's status.

The only thing I noticed was an array of unfamiliar vehicles arriving and departing from the house. Lee didn't leave his house for quite a few days surrounding the 20th, which wasn't uncommon. He normally sleeps till noon, so it's possible that he leaves his house after I go to bed.

The next weekend Jason had some friends over to play music. I guess Lee suspected a party was going on so he came over with his standard mason jar of moonshine and a miniscule joint. He seemed pretty lit when he arrived, and after watching the guys play three or four songs he began asking me to google stuff for him. First he asked me to look up something regarding orb manifestations in photographs, then a ranch on the Comanche reservation in Texas, and finally the 2009 Ford dually F-350 crew cab truck. He kept making commands like, "type one in that has black interior", and "how much more is it to get REAL big speakers? I mean NICE."

I was going to explain that it wasn't possible to refine such a search, but after a couple of attempts I decided it was easier to just make up figures based on my own estimates. As soon as we had found a suitable image he said "Jill go get Dan an tell him to come over here an look at dis truck. He don't believe me when I tell him I'm gettin one. I'm makin a call tuh Lance Cuttingham an I'm gettin one uh them Monday morning. Jus wait. Tell 'em to git over here an look!"

Lee said this in a way that concluded that after seeing a picture of a truck on the internet, Dan would believe him.

Dan and the rest of the guys were in the middle of a song, so I told Lee that I would show it to him after they finished.

"He's jus right there! Jus tell em tuh look!" Lee griped in a too loud for inside voice, pointing.

I told Lee that it would be ridiculous to interrupt a band to show a guy (who couldn't care less) a picture of a truck on the internet. "I'm sure Dan knows what a new Ford F-350 looks like", I said.

"Yeah, but not like mine. Mine's gonna be top uh thu line!" Lee said dreamily.

I didn't even touch that one. I just walked away from the computer and ended the session.


Needless to say Monday came and went with no new truck. The countdown seemed to come and go, too, till the other night when Lee asked me to look up some other nonsense on the computer.

He started rambling on about someone trying to cheat him out of his money. I asked what he was going to do about it, and he said "I don't know yet. I'm gonna have to watch NCIS tomorrow night to see if I have to go out to the desert or not"

I asked him if he was referring to a television show, and he said "Yeah. See they talk to me an tell me stuff in code. Military stuff."

10/22/2008 Ice Pack for President

My 2 year old son has finally started paying off in the entertainment department. For the longest time babies just want to eat, sleep, get a new diaper, pitch a fit then start over again, but my son has graduated to the next level of rudimentary banter.

Each day at least one hilarious thing comes out of his mouth. I don't want to turn him into a laugh-o-meter, Bobby Hill style Ham, but I usually allow myself an initial ten minutes laughing at the remark with Fox, then secretly erupt in laughter through out the remainder of that day. Last week after staring at his oatmeal for twenty minutes, I asked him to hurry and finish up so we could go outside. He said "no! I can't" and wrinkled his nose while covering his eyes as if it would make the dish cease to exist. I asked him why he didn't want to eat something he normally asked for seconds of, and he said "Cause, cause it's broken!"

"The oatmeals broken?", I confirmed, and Fox nodded his head with a overly expressed look of disappointment on his face.

A few days later he was in his high chair screaming "EAT!! EAT!!" and I asked him what he wanted. He looked around for clues, and then said "food". I asked him how a peanut butter and jelly sandwich sounded and he said "uh huh! Birthday cake sandwich!" Although it was a delicious idea, I decided to just put extra jelly on his PB&J.

I have noticed that whenever we are around dogs, Fox usually ends up telling them that they are "yucky", and pointing at them while saying "shoo!". I thought it was strange only because Fox doesn't voice disgust at much of anything other than the toilet or the diaper bin. Otherwise I agree with his general assessment of dogs. Last week while spending time with my mom and her troop of shizus, Fox began pointing and saying "yucky, poo-poo! Yuk!". The dog thought Fox wanted to play so he rolled over exposing his belly and testicles. Fox screamed and pointed towards the dog's black balls and shouted "POO_POO YUCKY! POO_POO! ICK!" So Fox thinks that all non-neutered male dogs have poop attached to them.

I also think that it is funny that no matter what is upsetting Fox, an ice pack seems to help. After I sneakily took his "special" blankie and put it into the wash for the first time in two months, Fox began looking around in all the usual places. Under his bed, in the bathroom floor, between the fridge and the wall, under the couch cushions.... When the blankie didn't turn up he became agitated and started whining. I explained that I had put the blanket into the washing machine and that after drying it would return it to his embrace. He continued whining, so I opened the washing machine to let him see his blanket submerged in water, sloshing around. For some reason this image upset Fox beyond explanation and it propelled him into a twenty minute hysterical fit. I tried all of my normal techniques without success, and finally asked him what would make him feel better.

"ICEPACK!" He screamed with renewed disdain.

A few days ago I was watching the presidential debate while Fox sat in the floor "playing cars". Whenever the candidates are on TV or their pictures appear on the newspaper Fox points and exclaims "Obamacain!"
He seems to think that whenever you see those two guys together it is called an Obamacain. He started watching the speech and paying attention to the shifts in conversation. After it was over I asked Fox which candidate he thought would make the nation better; Obama or McCain?

He looked around the room and smiled as he answered in a quiet tone; "ice pack".