Park it right over there. That’s right. That nasty part of your personality that emerges occasionally to snap, bite and claw the ones you love the most. It’s crab season here in the Pacific Northwest and I am Crabby Patty deluxe. My children are trying to escape to their grandparents but I won’t let them. The only one entitled to free, unfettered time is Mr. Understanding and I’ve already made him do a few chores, which just passes the crab along. Little chores, things like sign contracts for rental furniture and fax them to China. Phone calls for an appointment with a physical therapist so his arm will work again properly one day. He is here, a day early, because neither we nor his secretary can figure out the international date line and apply it to an itinerary. I could not figure out for the life of me why he had such a long layover in Tokyo ….
Back to the crab. Middle Sister came up with the phrase CURB YOUR CRAB this summer. I won’t say to whom she said it but the phrase is so apt I think she should needlepoint it and pass it out to all her family members, starting with me. Yesterday, I spent the morning in a legal continuing education class, which perhaps fomented the crab; the names Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, and Nicole Richie did not come up once when we were discussing DUIs, can you believe? Flog me, please. The crab was put in neutral for the afternoon because Middle Sister bought me lunch and we shopped at Nordies in the afternoon. This morning started with a veritable cornucopia of vaccinations for all family members. (Our appointment on Tuesday was canceled while we were in the car on the way to town at 7:30 a.m.) Thing 3 cried for 10 minutes solid in anticipation before the first shot and then when she was given it, shed not a tear. Driving to Lake Chelan for our first Five Family outing with aching upper arms will be lots of fun. Good thing Klab, Lab Rat, Princess Ai Lin and Prince Duder will have cocktails ready for our arrival.
Even though my inner crab has not retreated to its shell, there is some good news. I got three free screws on Tuesday. This drops the average price of a screw to $250 for the week. The Radish got a new, larger bed and loaned (I say loaned because my sisters would otherwise tally it into my inheritance) us her queen sized sleigh bed. It was missing three screws on the slats. Los hombres, whom I subcontracted to move said bed and assemble it, y yo hablemos un poco de espanol. El jefe threw in the screws for free.
This princess is off for a corona with a big C to parallel park her crab – if the crown fits, drink it! Mr. U will need one too when he wakes up from his nap and realizes he does not have swim trunks for Chelan. That’s one suitcase I am not packing.