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It had been a relatively quiet day.  School was out.  Our lives had slowed to match the lazy summer current…we were totally going with the flow, Vern.  (Can I call you Vern?)

Other than babysitting some chickens for a friend, both Varmint and Critter had relatively few demands on them every day.  They were free to go out and explore, to play, to veg out.  Critter, being a typical 10 year old boy, had been itching all school year to be able to just run around outside, chase butterflies, look for frogs and hike up creeks.  He was chomping at the BIT to run loose and let out some of the energy that truly pounds through his veins.  And when that last school bell in June rang, out he went, full-throttle!

Fast forward: Half of the summer was over and, as I said, it had been a quiet day.  It occurred to me that while Varmint had been gone for a playdate, there was no good reason why Critter was so dang quiet.  It was suspect.

Anyone who has raised a Critter knows that silence – in relation to a Critter – is nothing short of OMINOUS.

With great stealth (hard to achieve with my, er, stout stature) I tip-toed around the house until I came upon him.   Critter.  The wonder boy who has boundless energy and finds sitting in a classroom nothing short of tortuous.

Sitting in my favorite rocking chair, eating a cold grilled cheese sammy, drinking milk, and reading.

At least I think we can call it reading.  A book entitled “The Day My Butt Went Psycho” might not be considered a great literary work in some circles, but it DOES contain words, and those words MUST be read, so there.

I took a picture for posterity, but also for proof when he comes home whining that he simply CAN’T sit in his classroom all day.  I’ll simply show him this picture, and say in a rather snarky tone,  “Er, WHAT was that you were saying?”

Because pictures speak a thousand words….

and are hard to argue…..

How much would you pay for a bottle of Olive Oil?  How about a bottle of Extra Virgin Olive Oil?  This bad boy cost $20.00.  Seems like a lot for Olive Oil, right?  So what gives?

Well, you see, this particular bottle has been infused with Pepper.  HOT pepper.  This is the kind of oil that hurts twice, if you know what I mean.

My family LOVES to throw it in a bowl with parmesan, salt, pepper, and garlic, and dip a hearty bread into it.  We cry the whole time we eat it, but they are tears of joy.

Grandma Jane’s Beau, Mike Buchanan, bought this bottle for us from one of his favorite restaurants, Difebo’s, in Bethany Beach, Delaware.  They make it there….and apparently their kitchens have connections with the bowels of hell, because this stuff is HOT.

Did I mention the hurts twice thing?

If you haven’t ever been to Difebo’s, and you are in Bethany Beach, I hope you’ll try it.

It’ll get your attention!

In a delicious, but painful way…..

I’m not related or connected to Difebo’s, I just love their oil, man!

We have a balancing toy in our house that would easily challenge any adult.  It’s a several-sided, multi-colored board, that sits upon a ball.  The object of the game is to remain balanced on it, as it commands you to put a certain color of the balancing board on the floor in certain sequence.   The farther along you get, the faster it goes.  And if you get the colors out of sequence, or lose your balance, it mocks you.

Unkindly.

It’s tough.  I’ve watched grown firefighters cry on this thing.

I’ve damn near broken a hip on this thing.

My Captain won’t go near it.

But Critter…..

He can get to the highest levels of it, it while killing zombies on Minecraft, and  singing ‘Roxanne’ in true Sting fashion.

He thinks he’s a hot-shot because he can do it so effortlessly, but I am quick to shoot him my most arrogant, disdainful, condescending look and assure him that when he can drive down an eight-lane highway, while drinking coffee, swatting at children behind him, adjusting the DVD player console, and talking on the speaker phone without causing a multiple casualty vehicular incident…..

…..then I’ll be impressed.

What is WITH this cat?  Remember when I told you about Moose, and his fetish with Grandma Jane’s black leather satchel?  Well yesterday I found him in a basket I’d put by the basement stairs, and

…while yes, it was cute….I mean heck, how many Hallmark Calendars are made with ONLY cats in basket pictures?  A lot, that’s how many.

….and yes, you just want to stop and scratch his furry, fat little head…

…it’s begun to go beyond all that.  We’ve entered the world of weirdness.  First it was Grandma’s Satchel.  Then my Baskets.  And now….

Buried deep beneath the life jackets we wore sailing with Cupcake, is the fat furball.  This cat very nearly ended up in the car en route to Annapolis.  He nearly ended up in a sailboat.  He would NOT have enjoyed that; though the rest of us might have gotten a snicker or two out of it.

Look carefully, you’ll see him.   Ninja stealth kitty.  He was completely camouflaged.

It’s not right.  It’s a little creepy.  I’m starting to check things for cat.

Like this hammock, for instance.

The rest of the world gets cute little kitties.   Me?  I get one with a compromised body fat ratio, and weird fetishes.

It’s about par for the course, I suppose.

One of the medics on My Captain’s Shift had a birthday recently, and his honey, Jenn had a special cake made for him.  She does this often, because she’s got connections in the baking world, because she likes a good time and because she’s conscientious about important dates like that.  Me, I forget My Captain’s birthday altogether (but it is September 3rd, if any of you want to know).

Fitz and Jenn started a company called GotCPR, LLC.  It’s pretty awesome.  Here’s their facebook link:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/gotcpr/134384397375

Poor Fitz takes a ribbing for being one of the most mature guys on My Captain’s shift.

Not in a mean way.  Believe me, if they pick on you in the fire service, it means they LIKE you.    So ribbing is a good thing.  Some guys get picked on for being young.  Some for being hairy.  Some for being bald.  Some for being chunky.  Some for being skinny.  You can’t win.   For Fitz, they pick on his maturity.

And it appears his sweet Jenn has jumped in on this.

Look at that cake.  Very clever.  Stethoscope.  Trauma Shears.  EMS blue star on it.  Syringe.    Very apropos for a Medic.   Very well done by the artist in that it is detail oriented.

But if you look closely on the decorative icing on the side….

The EKG tracing looks a little off.

Or does it?

Grim reapers.  His cake had a Cardiac tracing with the Grim Reaper.

Hilarious!  They zinged him again.  And it’s a two-fer, since he’s a medic!

Poor Fitz!

Firehouse Ribbing….  It means they love ya!

Hope your birthday was a good one, Fitz!