- Joined
- Aug 8, 2005
- Messages
- 11,464
Moderators, I've done my best to sanitize this, but as is obvious some minor discrepancies must remain. As well as a smidge of foreign language.
Sis glared at me from where she sat in the vast sticky lake and vented spleen in both Thai in German. I had very little choice as to my options. I deftly removed the cat from the pot and poured the water over her head.
Maybe I should start at the beginning.
We've got ants. The legion of ants down by the gate post has carved a path across the gravel and clay driveway an inch and a half wide and a half inch deep. We've got giant black ants on down to minute red ants the size of half a pin head with acid dripping mandibles straight from Aliens. We've got hordes of ants that would have put Genghis to shame on his best day. It is so bad that, and I don't exaggerate at all, you cannot put a drink on the coffee table without the ants getting the last sip.
My six year old niece stands just outside my office door, strictly obeying the rule this room is off limits. She lays another blast of Thai on me. It sounds urgent. I close my document and open the translator web pages while telling her, "Nein. Nein! Sprechen Deutsch". Raised in Germany by a Thai mother her English ability is zip. Zilch. Nada. We can forget Thai translating with it's 504 letter alphabet and at least I know a tiny smattering of German. Time snails by as I exercise my limited German knowledge while typing what she is saying into the Babelfish. "die Katze auf den Boden geklebt..." The cat is stuck to the floor?
I get up and go out on the landing. The girl tries an appeasing smile. She is dripping. My foot is sticking to the floor. I had heard the crash of the pan earlier but what the heck. I drop things all the time. Going down the stairs to the sounds of desperate meowing from the cat I keep getting stuck and note wet kid sized footprints.
I take the scene in. The kitten is sitting in the middle of a lake in the middle of the kitchen. It is oddly immobile. The reality of what has come down comes down on me like I was trying to catch a Titan V booster stage. The little Spork was trying to impress her uncle by cooking some sort of German confection. What remains of a kilo of sugar is on the counter next to the cook top.
I do two things in very rapid succession. First, I let loose with a major curse and please be assured, I don't usually cuss and strongly refrain my language in front of kids. But there are exceptions. "<snip>ing Hell !!!!!" I then turn on the kid in full freak out mode (Me that is) and check her for burns. Major relief! Apparently the sugar syrup was only warm. I sweep her up into my arms and dash upstairs, putting her in the shower. Turning the water on I managed to convey to her to undress and leave her clothes in the tub. Now, of course, I'm liberally covered in sticky slurp.
Phase two: rescue the cat. I go back downstairs and assess. When the slurp spilled it hit the cold ceramic tile floor and solidified into a very effective adhesive. Apparently that was when the kitten made it's debut, romping out into the middle of the lake. Feet get sticky, it sits to clean them and that is that for cat mobility. But there is a problem. The only hot water in the house is the upstairs shower and the stairs and the up have hard wood floors. Get the syrup in that and we would have to seriously consider moving. My alternative is grab the largest cooking pot we have, fill it with water and warm it on the stove. The floor is so sticky I can barely walk. I'm amazed the cat made it that far out into the lake.
I'm pouring water all around the cat when the little Spork comes down from her shower. With the cat unglued in one hand I open the back door. Spork gets the mop and starts slooshing the puddle while I heat more water. I then note she has slooshed the water up against and under the huge wood kitchen cabinet. I lose it again, letting rip with another choice expletive. I relieve her of the mop and arm her with the squeegee for washing the windshield in the car. Spork gets the drift and starts slooshing the water out the door.
I put the cat in the sink and lock it in by putting the dish drainer over the sink while I formulate how I am going to get the goo out from under the cabinet. I'm going to have to jack it's 150 pounds up somehow, mop under it, pour a lake of hot water under it, lower it down and let it stew for a bit, then repeat... probably 10 or 20 times.
We get a coordinated operation going. I keep heating water, pouring it on the floor, mop it about then send it Sporkwards for her to sploosh out the door. The cat is meowing piteously and I figure I better deal with that. I extricate it from the sink and put it in the pot of warm water.
That is when Spork's mom puts in an appearance. Upon seeing her naked daughter on her hands and knees she makes a dash of about 2 steps and WHAM on her ass she goes. Spork sees mom getting into the fun, gives her a big cheesy grin and announces in a full half of her English vocabulary, '<snip>ing H***, Mami!!'
Mom goes wide eyed but the spork isn't finished. She points at the cabinet and uses the rest of her new found English vocab: 'OH <snip>!!'
Sis is downstairs, probably getting ready to move. I'm a little sad about that. I'm really taking a liking to the Spork. So is the cat.
Sis glared at me from where she sat in the vast sticky lake and vented spleen in both Thai in German. I had very little choice as to my options. I deftly removed the cat from the pot and poured the water over her head.
Maybe I should start at the beginning.
We've got ants. The legion of ants down by the gate post has carved a path across the gravel and clay driveway an inch and a half wide and a half inch deep. We've got giant black ants on down to minute red ants the size of half a pin head with acid dripping mandibles straight from Aliens. We've got hordes of ants that would have put Genghis to shame on his best day. It is so bad that, and I don't exaggerate at all, you cannot put a drink on the coffee table without the ants getting the last sip.
My six year old niece stands just outside my office door, strictly obeying the rule this room is off limits. She lays another blast of Thai on me. It sounds urgent. I close my document and open the translator web pages while telling her, "Nein. Nein! Sprechen Deutsch". Raised in Germany by a Thai mother her English ability is zip. Zilch. Nada. We can forget Thai translating with it's 504 letter alphabet and at least I know a tiny smattering of German. Time snails by as I exercise my limited German knowledge while typing what she is saying into the Babelfish. "die Katze auf den Boden geklebt..." The cat is stuck to the floor?
I get up and go out on the landing. The girl tries an appeasing smile. She is dripping. My foot is sticking to the floor. I had heard the crash of the pan earlier but what the heck. I drop things all the time. Going down the stairs to the sounds of desperate meowing from the cat I keep getting stuck and note wet kid sized footprints.
I take the scene in. The kitten is sitting in the middle of a lake in the middle of the kitchen. It is oddly immobile. The reality of what has come down comes down on me like I was trying to catch a Titan V booster stage. The little Spork was trying to impress her uncle by cooking some sort of German confection. What remains of a kilo of sugar is on the counter next to the cook top.
I do two things in very rapid succession. First, I let loose with a major curse and please be assured, I don't usually cuss and strongly refrain my language in front of kids. But there are exceptions. "<snip>ing Hell !!!!!" I then turn on the kid in full freak out mode (Me that is) and check her for burns. Major relief! Apparently the sugar syrup was only warm. I sweep her up into my arms and dash upstairs, putting her in the shower. Turning the water on I managed to convey to her to undress and leave her clothes in the tub. Now, of course, I'm liberally covered in sticky slurp.
Phase two: rescue the cat. I go back downstairs and assess. When the slurp spilled it hit the cold ceramic tile floor and solidified into a very effective adhesive. Apparently that was when the kitten made it's debut, romping out into the middle of the lake. Feet get sticky, it sits to clean them and that is that for cat mobility. But there is a problem. The only hot water in the house is the upstairs shower and the stairs and the up have hard wood floors. Get the syrup in that and we would have to seriously consider moving. My alternative is grab the largest cooking pot we have, fill it with water and warm it on the stove. The floor is so sticky I can barely walk. I'm amazed the cat made it that far out into the lake.
I'm pouring water all around the cat when the little Spork comes down from her shower. With the cat unglued in one hand I open the back door. Spork gets the mop and starts slooshing the puddle while I heat more water. I then note she has slooshed the water up against and under the huge wood kitchen cabinet. I lose it again, letting rip with another choice expletive. I relieve her of the mop and arm her with the squeegee for washing the windshield in the car. Spork gets the drift and starts slooshing the water out the door.
I put the cat in the sink and lock it in by putting the dish drainer over the sink while I formulate how I am going to get the goo out from under the cabinet. I'm going to have to jack it's 150 pounds up somehow, mop under it, pour a lake of hot water under it, lower it down and let it stew for a bit, then repeat... probably 10 or 20 times.
We get a coordinated operation going. I keep heating water, pouring it on the floor, mop it about then send it Sporkwards for her to sploosh out the door. The cat is meowing piteously and I figure I better deal with that. I extricate it from the sink and put it in the pot of warm water.
That is when Spork's mom puts in an appearance. Upon seeing her naked daughter on her hands and knees she makes a dash of about 2 steps and WHAM on her ass she goes. Spork sees mom getting into the fun, gives her a big cheesy grin and announces in a full half of her English vocabulary, '<snip>ing H***, Mami!!'
Mom goes wide eyed but the spork isn't finished. She points at the cabinet and uses the rest of her new found English vocab: 'OH <snip>!!'
Sis is downstairs, probably getting ready to move. I'm a little sad about that. I'm really taking a liking to the Spork. So is the cat.