Your Weekly Pandemic Antics St. Patrick's Day Week and Al Turned 50 Edition...(3-18-21)

Your Weekly Pandemic Antics St. Patrick’s Day Week and Al turned 50 Edition

Well kids…it’s St. Patrick’s Day week. Despite not having the annual parade for the second year in a row, I hope you all wore your green, enjoyed your corned beef and cabbage, possibly drank in public on a street corner somewhere, and reflected on the fact that we’ve been at this nonsense for a whole full year already. Not only did we have St. Patrick’s Day, but we also celebrated Al’s 50th birthday. At least this year we were able to dedicate a whole entire day to him - normally he has to share his birthday with parade day goers and suffer through the shenanigans of a 100 of our closest family and friends at Sue Millers house for parade day breakfast, well not this year. Don’t worry your silly little heads about it peeps, I still did my best to make the first day of Al’s 50th year extra special…I’ll let you be the judge, here’s what I’ve got…

1. Sunday morning. As you all know, Sunday is Wegmans Day, and low and behold it was also Al’s Birthday. So, I did what any good wife would do and I got up, took Pot Belly Pig Dog and Goose with me, and decided to go on that trip to Wegmans with him. His one day. His one day of the week to get some peace and quiet and refuge from the craziness that is our house and not only did I crash it, but I took Goose and Pig Dog with us. Best – Birthday – present – Evahhhhh. So I don’t wanna hear from all of you that I’m horrible and unsupportive. I don’t go to any store, ever, no matter what, for just anyone. #truelove or #torture you decide.

2. Al wasn’t as excited to have us a long for the ride as we were to join him. All he had to say about us going with him was, “This isn’t a family funfest…” so I cut him some birthday slack and gift #2 was me sitting in the car with the dogs, letting him go about his business inside Wegmans. Goose and I people watched while Pot Belly lost her mind every time anyone so much as looked in our direction.

3. Special gift from the youngest Kap kid to her Dad on his 50th bday. She decided to give him a break from kicking his butt in 2K and they joined forces in Fortnite.

4. Driving up rt 290 to Wegmans on Sunday morning got me thinking about the days I’d be driving at top speeds to get to work at Spag’s, because God forbid, I was ever on time. This also got me thinking about my buddy Amy Bullett and the many times I would go to her house, not to pick her up and drive her to work, but to follow her until getting to 290 at which time I was to drive next to her to clock her speed. Amy was convinced that her speedometer was broken. Windows would be rolled down, and there she was in the “BFG” (Big - F$%# - Grenada) yelling out the window, “How fast am I going now?” and she would expect me to look at my speedometer and tell her the speed. Let’s just clarify these trips were pre – Elder Services, this was when we worked at Spag’s. Now’s probably a good time to publicly apologize to Mr. McCrohon…not just for this in particular, but for a variety of things, but mostly for my mouth. What can I say? Amy was a bad influence…said no one ever.

5. Pot Belly Pig Dog and bacon grease. I tried to be responsible and do as Mr. Merty had told me over and over again through the years, “whatevah you do…don’t put bacon grease down the drain….” (please refer to The Antics Week of July 16th 2020). So in respecting these instructions, I poured the bacon grease in a recyclable container and put the container on the deck to set before tossing it in the trash. Now I’m not a total idiot, I put this grease can up and out of reach of the dogs. I let the dogs out, I let them in. I let them out, I let them in and so on, but no sign of Pot Belly Pig Dog. She finally saunters in, and you guessed it, smells – like – bacon. Not only does she smell like it, but she’s covered in it. Paws, legs, head, chest, belly…the jerk must’ve dumped it and then rolled in it. You know what it’s like getting bacon grease off of a 60 lb lab? It’s hell, just ask her. Joke was on her because despite it being something like 20 degrees with the “real feel” of 2 degrees I threw her chunky self in the tub. That’s right Pot Belly, you torture me, I torture you…that’s what happens when you mess with me. Please see exhibits 1 …. #noremorse

6. Good to know that despite the ages of my children, they still like to have some fun and act like fools. Sunday’s entertainment included Sam trying to bounce a rolled- up piece of paper off of his sisters head and in to a mason jar. These games are clearly responsible for such things as the PEZ I found while vacuuming under the couch. And yes, I will acknowledge that most video’s I include in the antics are of my family throwing things at each other. Please see exhibit #2

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7. If your significant other asks you nicely to do something, specifically a task you have great difficulty completing yourself, and you don’t - and he or she asks you, I don’t know, say 5,000 times and you still don’t do it - If you fall on your face and break something as a result, is it your significant others fault? Bet your ass it is. You want to hear the belly aching and complaining when the injury happens? Of course you don’t. Get it together people…drop what you’re doing and go do it RIGHT NOW. You’ll thank me later.

8. Getting back to work. Not sure about all of you, but I’ve been pretty comfortable in my jeans, tshirts and sweatshirts for the past year. Now that we’re all slowly heading back in to our offices, I suppose we’re expected to dress accordingly. Yes, my work clothes still fit. Yes, I can still iron and match my clothes, and put on something other than sneakers and flip flops. I can still manage to tame this mane of hair and make myself presentable for the public. So why is it when I do dress for work I feel like that disgruntled kid being shoved in to church clothes on Easter? #jeansandtshirts4eva

9. Hybrid learning…as you know, the kids here in the Woo have been learning remote since last March. The trigger has finally been pulled and they’re all going back to school, Hybrid, starting on March 29th, in fact, some kids started back this week. The struggle is real friends, these kids are going to have to get up out of bed, and you got it, same as the rest of us, get dressed. I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to wonder if the youngest Kap kid will even think to get dressed in something other than her p.j’s and her “comfy wearable blanket”. I’m not saying a thing and ruffle the teenagers feathers. My plan is to sit back, and watch it all go down. If she notices that she’s being dropped off at school in her pj’s, then I’ll intervene. Stay tuned.

10. While sitting at my table working wicked hard and doing the work of the people, I hear this obnoxious banging and think it’s coming from the radiator. Instead, I see this. I’m thinking that the chipmunks and squirrels have started to call in reinforcements and have gotten the littlest of birds to join their army…Please note…Pot Belly who barks at nothing all – day – long, didn’t budge. Not a growl, a bark, a snort, nothing. Not so much as a low grumble from the others either. I could’ve had my eyes pecked out and she wouldn’t have cared…check out exhibit #3

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11. And last, but not least, not only has daylight savings time given us an extra hour of sunshine this week, but the luck of the Irish and George Sotiropoulos came to the rescue. George and his crew at Bravo Auto (508-363-2500) have resurrected the middle kids car, “The Sube”. Thanks to these guys the Subaru has escaped the unforgiving hands of the junk yard and will live to ride another day. She will eventually be carted off to the beyond where all good cars go to die, but not today friends. Not today.

Have a great weekend!