Me and the Kirby Guy
April 15, 2003
The Taxman Cometh
(Here's hoping it's not
between the cracks!)

X-rated?  No.  Sorry to disappoint.  A sin?  Absolutely.

I've been having Kirby issues lately.  First, way back in November, my daughter used some birthday money to buy an innocent little Nintendo 64 game called "Kirby and the Crystal Shards."  She paid $20 for it at our local pawn shop.  Little did I know what a mess it would turn out to be.  It's a WONDERFUL game and the kids love it with emphasis kid(s).  Sadly, this little game is one of those that saves files in its memory for how far you've progressed through the different levels and lets you return to specific levels as desired, provided they have been saved. 

Delena hoards this game like the frickin holy grail in her room and my sons, particularly Dylan, prostrate themselves to her in humble bowing and begging to use the game for a few minutes of play time.  Admittedly, she doesn't lord over them with the game, she just doesn't want to share because she's terrified that they will erase one of the levels.  Technically, Dylan is a better video game player than Delena is, but she still wasn't comfortable sharing it.  I think that sharing is an important thing to learn, but I also think every child needs to have possessions that they can be proud of and that belong solely to them, to administer as they please.  This is one of hers.  Last week, after much renewed begging and pleading, Delena consented to let him play for a little while and sure enough, even though he got her further along the way than she was before, he manages to delete one of the sacred files.  Needless to say, after Delena turned into Medusa and much wailing and moaning ensued, she issued and immediately ban on all Kirby usage.  Dylan is beyond devastated.  I determined that somehow, some way, I would find another copy of this game.  Half.con has it for $30 and Amazon has it for $26 (including postage).  I was hoping to top out at $20 on a used game, but it doesn't look like that's feasible.  It's $40 at our local used video game shop.  I keep getting outbid on e-bay.  There are tons of them on e-bay, but they keep jetting up into the mid-twenties plus postage.  So that's been my Kirby frustration on that level.  I think I'm going to end up just continually trying to get it on e-bay and having patience (which isn't one of my virtues, remember) prevail.

THEN, yesterday morning, I made my list of things to do that day and cleaning the carpet was on the list.  I was going to have to do some real scrubbing in the family room where the kids had helped themselves to some spillage.  I wished out loud that I didn't have to clean that stupid carpet.  Later that day, Mr Salesman knocked on my door, one of those, "HEY!  How ya DOIN'?" kinds of salesmen.  Yep, you guessed it:  Kirby vacuum cleaner salesman.  They would deep shampoo one room in my house for free to demonstrate their new vacuum/shampooer (this, my friends, is how real magic works).  I agreed, but asked him how long it would take.  The late afternoon (it was around 3pm) is my busiest time.  The kids are starting to get tired and bitchy.  Eric is on his way home, so I'm doing the final clean of the day.  It's the final rush before the night gears down.  Plus, Dr Phil is on. 

I asked the guy about how long it would take since it was a bad time and I knew they would want to pimp their product to me.  He assured me it would take no longer than it normally took me to shampoo my own carpet.  I'm not sure how diligent he felt I was about cleaning my carpet, but THREE HOURS LATER I was sending his crony, the demonstrator out the door.  Eric was visiting a friend after work, so that worked itself out.  Nathan was terrified of the sound of the Kirby and shrieked intermittently the entire time.  It took the guy about 20 minutes to assemble the thing, then the obligatory hour of demonstrating to me how hopelessly filthy my house was (pfft.  Big news there) by means of a series of filters placed over the canister intake.  I managed a vacuumed couch and living room floor out of the deal.  It then took him about 10 minutes to call for back up after I told him I wasn't going to buy one.  His friend arrived and I explained to both of them that paying $1800 for a vacuum cleaner/shampooer just wasn't in the cards.   This was so far beyond their comprehension that they tried to win me over with astute observations in the form of questions like, "Which do you feel is the better machine, the Kirby or your Hoover?"  "Isn't efficiency important to you?"  "Do you really want your children playing in this filth?  This floor is their playground!"  "Why won't you let us make this affordable for you?"

I let them know that ironically enough, yes, their brand new $2000 machine was *gasp* more efficient than my $200 6 year old one.  (Think of that!)  I pointed out that a Rolls Royce is a better machine than a Honda, but that doesn't mean that a Rolls is something I can afford or should invest in at this time.  I assured them that I was definitely concerned with the condition of my children's playground, but if I were to buy their machine, the playground I'd be policing for efficient cleaning would be the sidewalk and about that, I wasn't quite so picky.  I also told them that I had two offers for them that would make it affordable for me:  they give it to me at no cost whatsoever or I gave them $50 for it.  They weren't digging it, but did seem under the impression that they could get me this $1800 beast for $10 a month.  I just wasn't digging paying for anything for 15 years.  I really did love the thing, I have to admit.  It was the shining silver loving cup of housewifely delight.  Seductive?  Oui.  It sang to me like the sirens.  But no, I had to pass it by.  Like two ships in the night, we slipped past one another and I got a fantastically clean carpet out of the deal. 

I really must say that this thing is a stud.  The carpet almost looks like new (it rejected a Kool-aid stain) and I wish I could have listened to the guy bitch about my dirt all day to get him to do the rest of the house.  He took the machine apart and cleaned it (another half hour) and disappeared onto the horizon like some cleaning angel into the mists.  That's how real magic works sometimes too.  You get what you want, but you gotta pay for it (this time in hours, but worth it).

This gorgeous little guy was a gift from my buddy, Georgia.  It is part of what made the weekend so nice.  :)  He's such a dancing, joyful little piggy that he really warmed my heart.  I am so blessed!  He's cavorting in the potted plant that I never thought would live.  I have absolutely zero talent for cultivating house plants and couldn't even begin to tell you the names of them.  My mom was a houseplant wiz and used to ritualistically take out and bring in the houseplants according to the season.  In the warm months, she'd leave them outside on the porch, down the sidewalk and on makeshift tables.  Somehow, she always knew exactly when the first frost was going to hit and would bring in the plants that day.  They weren't called "pothos" or "philodendron."  They had names like "Pepperoni Plant," "Hens and Chickens," "Moses in the Bullrushes," "Prayer Plant," "Umbrella Plant," "Wandering Jew," "Mother-in-law's tongue," "Burn Plant" and "Airplane Plant."  The closest I ever heard to a haughty name for one of her plants was "Angel Wing Begonia."  They never failed to grow like mad.  I can't seem to keep ANYthing alive.  It's like I have the touch of death for plants.  This one, for some reason, decided to grow.  It must be very forgiving.

This other little pig was a special present from my daughter, Delena.  It's a sweet little blown glass piggy that also lives in The Plant That Wouldn't Die.  It's just so precious!  I am sort of, well, in hog heaven.  :)  I have such unique little piggies with tons of character.  I am seriously piggy blessed.

My sweet son, Joe, is getting his wisdom teeth extracted tomorrow and it's bringing back memories of when I got mine done.  It was such a wacky experience.  I remember the technician injecting me with the liquid valium and me commenting on how it really wasn't working.  I wondered if my experimental years in the 70's and 80's had left me immune to downers.  What a distressing thought!!  He ask me if my arm was feeling cold yet and as he asked, yes, it certainly did begin to feel cold, as though I was putting my arm a few inches at a time into a refrigerator.  By the time it got to my shoulder, I was more blissful than I've ever been before or since.  Ahhhhhhh.  They assured me I wouldn't remember anything that happened while I was under, but I do recall that Mark and Brian were on the radio.  I remember telling the oral surgeon that I wanted him to have my baby.  He asked if I was having any pain from the dental work and I told him I was in no pain whatsoever, that he could do an oral hysterectomy on me and I wouldn't complain. He declined both the oral hysterectomy and the baby having, as nearly as I can tell.  It was just lovely.  The aftermath kind of sucked because I had an allergy to Percocet and got all shocky, but once I got past that, it was a smooth healing.  It was great to be able to open my mouth more than two inches.  Joe is having a lot more pain and problems than I was, so I think he'll be surprised at how much better he feels afterwards.

Dylan's sixth birthday is on July 5th and he's sad that he'll already be on summer vacation and won't have access to his class for invitations, so we've decided to have an early party on June 5th for his school friends and then a family party on his actual birthday.  June 5th is my mother and father's wedding anniversary.  It would have been 43 years for them.  Now they are both gone.  I'll be glad when that stops hurting quite so much.  I really do miss Mom. I've gotten used to Dad being gone after 17 years, although I do still miss him.  Mom still hurts a lot.  I can't tell you how many times I've gone to the phone to call her to tell her something and then remembered, sometimes after I'd even picked up the phone.  Ow.

This little beast, the Conair Water Jet Bath Spa, is worth its weight in gold. I got it on e-bay for $10 including postage  a year or so ago.  As it turns not, not only is it fun for adults, but my lord can this thing ever keep a three-year-old and a five-year-old busy!  When you put baby bath in the water and hook this thing up, it makes foamy bubbles galore.  The LOVE it and their baths last forever now.  All I have to do is mention the "bubble machine" and they're ready to play.

>:<  I hate when The Universe fusses at me about stuff.  I made a list of silly New Year's resolutions this year, which are here.    One of them that I have sadly adhered to is that until yesterday, I'd had exactly one swallow of water since 2003 rolled over.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, get off my butt already.  I was in Black Angus with Georgia, having some soup and the iced tea hadn't been refilled yet, so I took a drink of my water.  I really, really hate water and always have.  I drink diet sodas and lightly steeped iced tea with Sweet n Low.  As I was waking up yesterday morning, I had a vision of my insides and they were totally polluted with chemicals and sludge.  Not a pretty sight.  Woke up knowing I had to (ew) start drinking water.  *sigh*  So I bought a couple of cases of water bottles (buy one get one free at Albertson's.  our tap water is horrible) and have been working on them a few at a time.  In a bottle, I can throw a lot of it back without thinking about it much.  I've gone off the diet sodas for now and I've been drinking the water and light tea.  I have to get up in the night to pee and I hope that settles down after a while.  This is day #2 and I can say that I feel any different, but at least I'm giving it a go. 

So now it's time to go clean house and get that Hour of Power going with no Kirby man to hold me back. 

Hope your evening is as relaxing or as exciting as you want it to be.

Love,