For those not familiar with the Matron's personal language, Blethic is Blog Ethic or General Care and Tutelage of the Blog.
Today, she is simply reminding her Minnesota and Wisconsin readers of Saturday's 7:00 pm get together!! She'll be there, with reservations for about 15, under her own name.
If you're coming and are inclined, introduce yourself below (this is not a requirement because she knows you are shy).
More details on the event? You can send her an email at petri017 at umn.edu. That's zero one seven.
The pressing issue? Can she talk in the third person for an entire evening -- with cocktails?
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
How She Spent the Weekend
See these?
Friday night, while the Matron and her family were at Holiday Outing, Satan's Familiar scrutinized the vast, unguarded landscape that is the Family Home. He decided that jumping onto the dining room table was probably the best use of Cloven Hoof.
Indeed!
He found not one Earth Ball, but one pound of this incredibly expensive, organic dark chocolate -- purchased as gift for someone else. But Satan's Familiar?
Assumed that said delicacy was just the evening's ticket. So he carried that bag from the table into the living room (sort of CSI -- the Matron sleuthing and all -- evidence, as in shredded paper and plastic by the family hearth) and shared the goods with Jekyll.
Let's refresh Reader Memory. Jekyll will be 16 in April. He does not walk: he totters. His eyesight is limited to one non-peripheral foot in front of his face. Hearing? Left him, lo these many years.
When the family came home, they found Satan's Familiar sleeping comfortably on the couch. Being from the dark side, supernatural and all that, he is immune.
But Jekyll? Running around and into walls, endlessly, heart pounding, all sugared and caffeinated up. Considering that chocolate kills the canine, the Matron poured hydrogen peroxide down the beloved Jekyll's throat (while John put the children to bed because, oh my GOD in addition to spending the past 30 hours on DOGS she has a full-time job and children).
While the elder puked up his half pound of chocolate, Satan's Familiar was subjected to multiple doses of hydrogen peroxide. How many times did he vomit? Not once. After that henchmen drank half a bottle and the Pet Poison Control Hotline didn't answer, the Matron assumed this was the Lord Himself, God Almightly, sending The Message: "Be Gone, Anti-Christ! Be Gone!"
Okay, the heretical Matron is sorry and all excommunicated, but that damn Satan's Familiar refused to puke BUT the house became the Vomitorium and Toilet for the next . . . oh, what time is it right now?
Yes, she made use of Bucket, mop and soap.
But poor Jekyll? That first frenzied evening, that poor geriatric patient would not stop running around in circles until John held him tight for an hour, until he gave up. And fell asleep.
He didn't wake up for 15 hours.
But when he did? The remaining foot of peripheral vision has vanished. Jekyll is completely blind and new to the situation.
So the Matron has spent much of today caring for that dog after he: falls down a flight of stairs; loses his way in the backyard and tumbles down the landscaped hill; falls into his water dish; and mistakes Merrick for a Dog Treat. Yes, that dog started rambling nibbling.
That's the weekend, friends. One million student essays and two weeks ahead, and suddenly the dogs needs as much navigation as Scarlett (because Miracle Worker rehearsals conveniently begin tomorrow).
And the heart-wrenching part?
Merrick: "Mama? Will Jekyll be hewe fow Chriwstmas? Please can Santa pwomise?"
Santa can't predict.
Friday night, while the Matron and her family were at Holiday Outing, Satan's Familiar scrutinized the vast, unguarded landscape that is the Family Home. He decided that jumping onto the dining room table was probably the best use of Cloven Hoof.
Indeed!
He found not one Earth Ball, but one pound of this incredibly expensive, organic dark chocolate -- purchased as gift for someone else. But Satan's Familiar?
Assumed that said delicacy was just the evening's ticket. So he carried that bag from the table into the living room (sort of CSI -- the Matron sleuthing and all -- evidence, as in shredded paper and plastic by the family hearth) and shared the goods with Jekyll.
Let's refresh Reader Memory. Jekyll will be 16 in April. He does not walk: he totters. His eyesight is limited to one non-peripheral foot in front of his face. Hearing? Left him, lo these many years.
When the family came home, they found Satan's Familiar sleeping comfortably on the couch. Being from the dark side, supernatural and all that, he is immune.
But Jekyll? Running around and into walls, endlessly, heart pounding, all sugared and caffeinated up. Considering that chocolate kills the canine, the Matron poured hydrogen peroxide down the beloved Jekyll's throat (while John put the children to bed because, oh my GOD in addition to spending the past 30 hours on DOGS she has a full-time job and children).
While the elder puked up his half pound of chocolate, Satan's Familiar was subjected to multiple doses of hydrogen peroxide. How many times did he vomit? Not once. After that henchmen drank half a bottle and the Pet Poison Control Hotline didn't answer, the Matron assumed this was the Lord Himself, God Almightly, sending The Message: "Be Gone, Anti-Christ! Be Gone!"
Okay, the heretical Matron is sorry and all excommunicated, but that damn Satan's Familiar refused to puke BUT the house became the Vomitorium and Toilet for the next . . . oh, what time is it right now?Yes, she made use of Bucket, mop and soap.
But poor Jekyll? That first frenzied evening, that poor geriatric patient would not stop running around in circles until John held him tight for an hour, until he gave up. And fell asleep.
He didn't wake up for 15 hours.
But when he did? The remaining foot of peripheral vision has vanished. Jekyll is completely blind and new to the situation.So the Matron has spent much of today caring for that dog after he: falls down a flight of stairs; loses his way in the backyard and tumbles down the landscaped hill; falls into his water dish; and mistakes Merrick for a Dog Treat. Yes, that dog started rambling nibbling.
That's the weekend, friends. One million student essays and two weeks ahead, and suddenly the dogs needs as much navigation as Scarlett (because Miracle Worker rehearsals conveniently begin tomorrow).
And the heart-wrenching part?
Merrick: "Mama? Will Jekyll be hewe fow Chriwstmas? Please can Santa pwomise?"
Santa can't predict.
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