AbundantFreeTime

Recent Adventures

2005-10-04T10:25:00.000-05:00

We took the boys to their first art show. My SIL’s boyfriend and some other local artists had a show that had some large wooden and metal pieces. The kind of art that kids like to climb on. They asked us to come and bring Monkey and Maus. So we did.

There was an enormous wooden dragon at the entrance, with gauze wings. And his chest was on hinges so you could open him up. The artist informed me that you could fit a keg in the cavity. So, if you want a $5000 keg fridge that doesn’t chill I can email you the address. It was a pretty amazing piece. The same artist also made a lion, a hammerhead shark, and a komodo dragon. Maus stood in front of them and clapped. Then he walked around the gallery and looked at all the other pieces.

Monkey was more interested in the popcorn machine and the fact that he could get adults to give him real coke, not sprite which we cruelly call “clear coke”. At one point, we were looking at a metal piece and he said “What is it?” I told him it was a sculpture.

“What does it do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“You look at it.”

He shrugged and walked away. De gustibus, Monkey.

Sunday I got Maus his first pair of shoes. Stride Rites. He has my feet and needed a 4 ½ Extra Wide. So it has to be the $42 stride rites that he will outgrow in like a month. Plus, they only have 2 styles in extra wide—brown Velcro strap ones that look like Special Ed shoes and The White Baby Boots. The baby boots have blue dinosaurs embroidered on the back of the heel. We got the baby boots. At first he was cool with them and kept walking around looking at his feet. Then we had dramatic falling followed by baby face of anguish. Then we had sitting and pulling at shoes while screeching.

This morning, I got to work and opened my purse and what should I see? Tiny white clodhoppers. I keep pulling them out and admiring the clunky cuteness

P Whipped

2005-09-09T16:34:00.000-05:00

This is a gross story. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

So, my husband has this cat—Melee. And Melee is a 16 year old Siamese. I got Melee for him during our courtship when she was about 9. Melee has always been sensitive. Foods with too much fiber make her poop blood. Stress makes her poop blood. She pukes a lot. Like the Unipuker. Her breath is bad. Her temper is worse. She’d bite you but her teeth are worse than anything the English have to offer. Her belly has droopy, swaying skin. Her nose has a bump from the time she got a paper bag stuck on her head and ran around our old apartment until she went *smack* into our futon. When J goes out of town, she howls at night like Ginsburg on a bender. She is a frequent inappropriate peer. Often on my clothes. About a year ago, Melee started puking up stomach acid tinged with blood about once a month. “That’s it!” I said to J, “Her time has come. You need to take her in.” I started calling her Dead Cat Walking (behind their backs). J resisted. And put it off. And told me that if I did it without his permission/consent that he’d never forgive me. Meanwhile, we (mostly I) spent a lot of time cleaning up cat effluvia. Appointments have been made and cancelled, made and no-showed. We’ve talked about taking steps. Google has been consulted.

Tuesday, my husband (the same guy who didn’t want to take me to the ER when a bug killer oil lamp spilled on me and my voice vanished and I started wheezing on account of the $75 copay) collected a stool sample and took it to the vet. The vet declared the cat parasite free and told J to bring her in. They went yesterday. The vet didn’t think she was that bad. The vet said some ‘Mese live to be 30. The vet said it could be cancer but probably is not as she has a history of the bloody stool. (By the way, that sounds like a ghost story: The History of the Bloody Stool.) The vet tried to talk J into a $200 endoscopy and blood work. He agreed to blood work and urinalysis. Melee has a bladder infection. The vet says clearing that up may help with the peeing. The blood work can rule out (or in) liver or kidney failure. The vet said she might have IBS. The vet said she might be exacerbating it by not being able to chew kibble on account of the aforementioned terrible teeth. The vet recommends a soft food diet. I hate the vet.

I am now faced with the possibility that this cat might live until both my children are in highschool. Bleargh.

Happy Birthday to ME

2005-09-07T09:23:00.000-05:00

I’m 34 today. Doesn’t feel any different.

Well, it is his booty

2005-08-31T07:56:00.000-05:00

Last night, Monkey was taking a bath and I told him to stand up so I could put soap in his hands and he could wash his bottom and his penis. He said "You mean my pirate parts?"

I'm still snickering over that.

PLEASE STOP!

2005-08-26T12:54:00.000-05:00

Today I’ve gotten more than one email in which someone writes “should of” instead of “should have”. Should I of said something? Ok, I don’t know if I can respect myself for typing it.

This morning when the alarm went off, I came too with the kind of bone deep fatigue that causes a wave of nausea. I thought “Dear Lord, please let it really be Friday. Don’t let this be a sick joke!”

This weekend, we’re making our maiden voyage to Chuck E. Cheese. Other than that, we have no plans.

New and Improved

2005-08-25T10:47:00.000-05:00

So, a couple of friends have pointed out one of my faults to me, swearing. Did you know that if you overuse those words, they lose their power? Also, if you swear too much it makes you look stupid. THANKS FOR THE NEW INFO.

There’s another two of my faults: sarcasm and the ungracious acceptance of well intentioned criticism.

First of all, anything overused loses its power. Do these friends is favor preserving the sacred specialness of sexual union? I mean really, no more porn, no more wanking, no more sex unless it is with your spouse AND undertaken in love.

Also, I am past caring what people think of me unless there is concrete benefit in their high opinion. More money at work? GOOD. More time with my friends? GOOD. However, these are people unlikely to eschew my company due to profanity. They’re just being pissy.

Community Water Lament

2005-08-23T13:18:00.000-05:00

I think that I shall never see

Anyone fill this tank, but me.

A tank that drips and drips all day

While people go about their way.

A tank that gives to all who ask

Though they ignore this simple task.

They leave the pitcher on the shelf.

They think it’s filled by an unseen elf.

Poems are made by fools like me

While tanks can be filled by Thee.

If My Cat Wrote Poetry

2005-08-19T21:28:00.000-05:00

1
O KIBBLE! my Kibble! our fearful meal is done;
The babe has o’erturn’d each bowl, the prize we sought is gone;
The dish is near, the rattle I hear, my belly’s lowly rumbling,
While follow eyes the steady broom, the mother grim and cleaning:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the floor my Kibble lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

2
O Kibble! my Kibble! rise from the rubbish bin;
Rise up-for you my tail is flung-for you my warbling trills;
For you catnip and ribbon strands-for you the mouse a-batting;
For you they purr, the feline mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Kibble! dear victuals!
This paw beneath your bits;
It is some dream that on the floor,
You've fallen as crumbled grit .

3
My Kibble does not answer, 'tis made of rendered lamb;
My kibble does not feel my paw his nerves are all ground up;
The rest is anchor'd safe and sound, its zipper pressed to close;
From fearful babe, the zippered bag doth protect;
Exult, O floors, and gleam, O bowls!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk where my Kibble lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

If Monkey Wrote Poetry

2005-08-17T15:47:00.000-05:00

measure the sugar

while i have this booger

i stand on the chair

BLUE

Blue

blue

let me pick the kool-aid

for a change

If Maus Wrote Poetry

2005-08-17T15:45:00.000-05:00

This Is Just to Say

by Deflater Maus Trueblood

I have eaten

the cheerios

that were under

the sofa

and which

you were probably

saving

for sweeping

Forgive me

they were delicious

so dusty

and so dry

What I need

2005-08-12T13:33:00.000-05:00

Is a Big Book Of Important Shit. Then whenever I need to find something out, I can look in the book for an answer. Don’t give me any bible crap, people. The bible is good for morals but not so much for practical info like “Where is that smell coming from?” Or “How much longer can I put off laundry?” Or better yet “What can I make for dinner out of these random things in the freezer?” I am afraid I’ve been relying instead on The New England Journal of My Ass. It’s not such a great resource, my ass, though it is good for sitting. Top Notch in that department.

A few days ago, I noticed my Jeep key no longer works. (Yes, I’m a terrible burden on the environment. Ask me about disposable diapers!) I sort of bitched at J and then I went on about my business. It’s his vehicle. I drive the Escort. Today I get an email from my dad with the subject line Keys. I tell you it was like a lightbulb went off in my head. My key works fine, this just isn’t my key. Sure enough, he was asking if I thought maybe he had given me back my brother’s Jeep key instead of mine. Apparently my dad is some kind of magpie, collecting keys from all his children.

Now I’m wondering if there is some woman somewhere who hates her job reading books, swearing, and surfing the Internet. She just wants to manage projects and crunch numbers in spreadsheets. For Republicans. While wearing pantyhose. Babe, call me and we will work out a deal.

Happy Birthday, Dear Maus!

2005-08-11T13:48:00.000-05:00

Maus is one today. We’re having his favorite dinner—spaghetti and meatballs. Plus CAKE!

He was sweet and snuggly with me this morning. I’m going to take his picture at daycare with more cake in just a little while.

Well, crap

2005-08-05T15:20:00.000-05:00

Our daycare is closing. Monkey and 4 of his classmates have been together for over 3 years. It’s the only daycare he’s ever been too. I’m bummed that he’s not going to be with his buddies any more. I wish I made half again as much money so I could afford the supercool Primrose school. It’s ‘nestled on 5 beautiful acres’. NESTLED. It looks like the kind of place where everyone is happy all the time and they have hamsters that don’t bite.

What is up with the twee, cutesy daycare names.? Little Darling Precious Angel Hearts Sparkling Growing and Loving for Jesus.

I love the way the expensive places say meals and snacks are included. Umm, for double my mortgage, you would need to teach my kid SuperPowers. I would expect Monkey to come home and telekinetically clean the house. Maus should be able to communicate telepathically with humans and animals.

Tuesday I’m touring 5 places. Stay tuned for what will surely be a hilarious tale of “No, we’re married. I kept my name!” And “No, he doesn’t get formula. Or cow’s milk.” And “Yes, those are family names, but we think they suit the boys..”

Stupid Formatting

2005-08-04T09:10:00.000-05:00

I have just realized that emailed posts have weird formatting. And when I try to edit them in the blogspot edit window, they are seriously hosed. I blame my email program for this. I’m sure there is some easy solution, but I can’t be bothered to dink around.

Most Excellent Monkey Story

2005-08-04T08:45:00.000-05:00

Confirming my belief that preschoolers are all philosophers and theologians, we had this conversation in the car.

Mom? Where is God? Is he in Heaven?

Yes. God is everywhere. In Heaven, in the air, in trees, in your heart, in our house.

Is God in my leg?

Yes.

Long pause, thoughtful look. You know where this is going, right?

Mom, is God in my butt?

Long pause, thoughtful look.

Yes. God loves you so much that even your gross, stinky parts aren't gross to Him.

Last of the Mofishcans

2005-08-03T10:37:00.000-05:00

Yesterday when we got home, the Lone Fishy was still swimming! We were so excited that Monkey and I did a little dance. We ate dinner, went back to watch him some more and he was dead.

Bummer.

Yeah, today’s entry is lamely titled, but in my defense, I have thrush, mastitis and a head cold.

Maybe I gave the fish thrush.

Fish Killa

2005-08-02T08:51:00.000-05:00

This weekend we set up an aquarium with 4 goldfish in Monkey’s room. I set up the tank Saturday with stuff that promised instantly ready water. Just to be safe, I let the water sit for 18 hours. Sunday I put in the four goldfish. Yesterday when I got home from work at 5—one was dead. We went to run a few errands, got home at 7:30 and another was dead. This morning, a third casualty in the War on Fish. I blame the plant bulbs I bought. They were supposed to grow water lilies in 3 weeks, but instead sprouted white fuzzy growth. Monkey seems undisturbed by it. J said I “poisoned them” and was all stompy-foot judgmental about it.

At the worst part of my post partum depression, this would have sent me into a tailspin. Right now all I can think is “Less than a dollar’s worth of fish. If they were breaded and fried, we’d eat them. Who gives a shit?” I can’t decide if apathy is a sign I need more help or that I’m getting better.

I had a dream

2005-07-20T15:54:00.000-05:00

> I have a strangely detailed dream life. I should learn more about lucid dreaming. Really. Last night, I had a dream that I was in a musical but I had an allergic reaction to a sunscreen and lost my voice. I went on, but my understudy went with me speaking and speaking my lines. No Milli Vanilli lipsyncing scandal-- I was just doing the dancing and blocking and emoting. Sadly, my understudy was a man. He was on stage with me in stage crew blacks. Well, if I'm ever in a musical, I will lay off the sunscreen for sure. The musical itself was about a woman in love with a really shallow annoying man who was going off to fight in WW2. He was her boyfriend and all, but he was his own true love, she was a side-item. He was hoping when he got back he'd be a hero and he'd get noticed by a Hollywood producer. Meanwhile, my character was going to work in a munitions plant to do her part to support the War effort.
>

And Now For Something Entirely Different

2005-07-10T21:42:00.000-05:00

My gateway drug is books. If I ever become dependent on a chemical other than caffeine, you should know that it started with books. There are quizzes for potential drunks and if you change out books instead of booze, I can pretty much answer like an addict to every question. I have used books to escape my feelings for years. I have lied about how much money I've spent on books, how much time I've spent reading. I have read while alone, and to keep people away. I've called in sick to work because I was tired from reading the night before or because I wanted to read more. There are two exceptions-- I don't tell myself I can stop any time. And I don't think my life would be better without books.

I'm thinking of ditching out all the content and just blogging about what I'm reading.

Frankly, my life is pretty monotonous and not all that happy. Who the fuck wants to read about that? I don't particularly want to write about it.

Excuse Me, You Seem To Have a Giant Stick Up Your Ass

2005-06-22T22:16:00.000-05:00

Is there a nice way to tell someone that? Can I just do the mean way? I am seriously sick of people who have sticks up their asses and expect me to modify my behavior as a result. I cannot take 1 more minute of it. But I will. Fucking fuckers.

I am also sick of people who think that their system problem should be at the top of my list. Bugger. Off. We have a process and we all have to use it.

Oh, and the woman I was supposed to be seeing for therapy but I quit because I didn't feel $70 worth of better? Dying. So I'm glad I dropped out. I feel awful for her. Her poor daughter. Her poor husband. Man, God's Plan sucks.

I am drinking the haterade.

Next Blog

2005-06-16T21:35:00.000-05:00

If you want to get a glimpse of how much utter nonsense is circulating in cyberspace, you can get a taste right here on blogspot. All you have to do is go up in the upper right corner and click Next Blog. Going by my experience over the last week, out of 100 clicks you will get 50 blogs that are just spam feeds, 30 that are in a language you don't know, 5 that haven't been updated in more than 60 days, 5 that are esoteric fanatics for anime, some band, or some politico, 4teenagers, 2 sluts, 2 religious types, 1 boring rambler and one genuinely good writer. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I am the boring rambler.

I have been feeling losery lately. I'm so tired. So very tired. I feel like there's no God, or no Plan, or that the Plan sucks, or that God is like a parent with favorites and other people have it better and I get all my pleas ignored. I feel like I have spent the last 18 months doing everything I'm supposed to and what I have to show for it is nothing of my own. I get joy from my kids, but they belong to themselves and there is no joy in me. I feel like a dried out husk. If one more person takes and no more people give, how will I ever be replenished? I am fading, vanishing, becoming a hollow, brittle soccer mom.

The kids are being extra trying this week. After I heaped praise upon them last week! Ungrateful little wretches! Tantrums. Oh dear GOD, the tantrums. This week, Monkey and Maus started fighting. With Each Other. What the hell? I am NOT listening to them fight for 18 years. And whenever one of them is difficult, one of my parents says it's payback for the child I was. Nice. I guess they never loved me or something or I wwas a colossal pain in the ass, what with not being a faithful Catholic or a conservative or having the kind of direction they had.

The spouse is smoking and doing other things to annoy me. It's not his fault, but honestly, if I never have sex again, it feels like it would be too soon. And if he did some dishes, it would help. I wish he had the kind of job that allowed for planning and routine. I'm so sick of the chaos. Plus, he got fucking FLEAS at work. What the hell is wrong with his boss that he won't pony up for an exterminator?

I feel like everything I do is work, housework, or childwork. And even if I got a break I have not a fucking clue what I would do. Nothing sounds good. Nothing sounds fun. I have a serious case of anhedonia.

Why haven't they called? Why? Why? I applied for a job in the IT department and though the developers I work with now swear that I'm the bee's knees, they haven't called. Are they just using me to close out Remedy tickets? Am I a scam? Will I get a date to Nerd Prom? I don't so much want that job as I do want something different. I have gotten embroiled in a couple of longterm projects and if I go to a different segment of the business, I will be free! FREE! Plus, more money. The main task of that job is almost identical to one of my main tasks now. I would be losing a couple of tasks I hate and my favorite task of all.

Gah. I just feel like something under a movie theater seat.

About Monkey

2005-06-02T09:13:00.000-05:00

I have a great kid. A hella great kid. I also have a kid who is in a tough phase. The testing phase, the exploring his power phase. So we have whining and tantrums and outbursts. I generally respond swiftly and fiercely to outbursts and tantrums. J often thinks it's too much so there has been conflict about that. And by conflict I mean long annoying sometimes loud discussions between J and I while Monkey continues being in the tough phase. How long is this phase anyway? Eesh. Suffice it to say, our limit setting is a bit lax and I may be overreacting to overcompensate.

Still, Monkus Aurelius is a great kid. He has a good imagination-- we have Dab, the imaginary dog and Jacob, his imaginary buddy. He plays at cooking and while his ingredient list is dubious, his enthusiasm is a source of amusement and joy.

And he has hobbies! Granted, these are mostly hobbies he's picked up from us and from our families. He likes RC planes and trucks like J. They go to the hobby store and run trucks on the outdoor track there. In the winter, they fly on the flight simulator. Monkey's not ready for real RC flying yet.

J's dad has gotten him into fishing. He has a Scooby pole and tackle box. His fishing net is Spidey though. He isn't very patient, but he has the jargon down. They had a fun-filled four day fishing trip out in SmallTown NE about a month ago. I really missed my guys!

I've gotten him into crafts and cooking. He has a couple of little preschooler catchphrases that are pretty cute. Milk and eggs go in the fridgeforlater. Lawry's seasoned salt is fire salt. That one took me a while to figure out. I'm not too swift sometimes. We make things that he can stir-- muffins are a big hit.

My dad has gotten him to be interested in gardening and golf. He has a tomato in Grandpa's garden and tells me we are going to squeeze it to make juice in a glass. He also has told me he can't eat tomatoes-- they will make him sick. Monkey proclaims this with a dramatic belly clutch.

I can see that we're going to stay VERY busy just keeping up with Monkey.

I really enjoy talking to Monkey. He's not very good at telling jokes but his lame jokes make me laugh harder than other people's lame jokes and even the good ones sometimes. He makes all stories a little longer plus he uses really endearing gestures. I wish I had a video clip of him telling how married people kiss-- the gesture is priceless.

Goodnight Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are!

2005-05-31T14:36:00.000-05:00

First, let's talk about Maus. Deflator Maus is ready for a name change to Danger Maus. He had his first ER visit this weekend.

Maus is cruising. Maus is fearless. Maus is determined. He will try to go from one piece of furniture to another -- even if they are not close enough. He took one hand off of the chair yesterday and tried to turn but instead of a successful grab for a toy off of the floor, he did a face plant onto our wood floor. First there was indignant breathholding. Then there was screaming. Accompanied by a slow stream of blood from his nose. I called the pediatric line while J yelled at me and was generally accusatory and the nurse called me after 15 minutes. It was still bleeding. She told me to pinch right below the hard part of his nose and tilt him slightly forward to keep the blood from going down his throat. She said she'd call back in 15 minutes for further questions. His nose did stop bleeding after about 7 more minutes of the right kind of pressure. . He did not lose consciousness and he was back in good spirits after we stopped pinching him. He was even back to trying to cruise the furniture. His nose wasn't crooked, but it was swollen so the answering nurse sent us in. I took Maus by myself as Monkey was napping and J was unbearable.

Maus did a spectacular spitup on the intake desk. (He's still having some MSPI related barfing but he seems unbothered by it and I'm not going back on the damned diet.) I didn't have my wallet, so I called J to bring it for the insurance card and so I could pay the ER copay. $75. J was sullen when he got there. Since the ER was blessedly empty, J and Monkey stayed. When we saw the doctor, he confirmed that the cartilage was not going to impede breathing, there were no scary hematomas in the nasal passages, and Maus's pupils were equal and reactive. He could not confirm what the swelling would look like in a couple of days, if there were longer lasting issues with his nasal passages or if unerrupted teeth were effected. He said not to worry about it now. Yeah, that's not the kind of couple you're talking to here, Doc. I hope Maus doesn't look like Jimmy Durante. We went home and Maus played for a while, then nursed to sleep on my lap. I held him, making sure periodically that he would respond to stimulus. In other words, whenever I got nervous, I trimmed one of his nails and he would frown and wiggle in his sleep. This morning, he woke up smiling, as usual, but super snotty. His allergies and mine are going nuts and his nose is still tender so there is heartache when I wipe it.

I am in general prone to letting the kids test the laws of physics. I don't let them climb on the roof, but I'm not going to stop a baby from cruising or a preschooler from jumping on the bed. I worry that they will get hurt, and I do want to prevent serious injuries. I know there will be minor ones. I don't want them to get broken bones or stitches, but I don't want them to be repressed and timid. I don't want them never to have fun. We aren't exactly showing them that it's fun to do physical things. We are sedentary to an unhealthy degree-- I don't want the boys getting the idea that this is ok. Neither do I want to pass on body-image issues, which we both have.

I don't want to shape them into nerds and misfits because I'm afraid of them getting hurt. My position is that J and I are geeky, bookish, not very athletic, not very social. Our children are going to absorb a lot of that from growing up with us. Sports are part of fitting in for kids. And I want them to fit in. I don't want them to be the kid sitting on the playground with a book or the kid who gets picked last for teams. What we need to be mindful of are our shortcomings, not our strengths. I don't want to neglect the development of any ability that they have because of my own inadequacies.

Mothers' Day

2005-05-09T11:19:00.000-05:00

So, yesterday was Mothers' Day. Ever notice how advertisers sell MDay as a day for moms to get away from their kids and Fathers' Day as a day for dads to hang out with them? Do I need to tell you how much this annoys me? Do I need to tell you why? Probably not, but I will anyhow.

The only thing a mother can give a child that a father cannot is breastmilk. Everything else is a a bunch of hogwash that paints mothers as saintly martyrs, fathers as incompetent wallets and children as annoying burdens. It's insulting to everyone-- Mothers, Fathers and Children. My husband is not clueless on the homefront and my kids aren't a drag. Oh, and I am not one to suffer like a saint. Actually, I'm a bit of a blowhard.

Yesterday as per our family tradition, my husband got me my gift from the boys on Mothers' Day. Does this bug me? Not as much as They say it should. I know he waits until the last minute. That's how he is. He did get me a nice Kodak Easy Share Camera. I took pictures of Monkey and Maus. Monkey brought home the daycare present-- the most unflattering picture of him every. I love it. It's freaking adorable that he has his grump face on and his hair is sticking out. Maus' pic is scotched taped on a wee little flower pot. Why the tape? My daycare has an aversion to messy things like paint and glue. I am thinking of switching childcare centers and this is part of the reason. (Others: high turnover, no teethbrushing after lunch, use of movies at pickup time instead of activities)

The boys and I went to my mom's and made cookies. They were horrible. I bought the dough and it was too soft to roll and cut. Never again! As I tried to spatula them off of the cookie sheets they all fell apart. Damn that Doughboy to HELL!!

Bad Blogger

2005-05-04T17:29:00.000-05:00

Yes, I've been remiss. Lots to think about at work. We're coming into a busier season and there are quite a few job postings I should really be considering. I'm not exactly HAPPY with where I am, but it is comfortable. Also, I'm hourly and my employer is miserly-- NO OVERTIME. The general sentiment seems to be that salaried people who work less than 50 hours a week are slackers. I am just not down with that.

Lots to think about with daycare. I grow less and less fond of our daycare because the director can't get along with employees, so turnover is high. Also, she is really distracted by her MaryKay sideline. I don't want my kids watched and taught by people who hate the person I pay to take care of them. I am going to try to look at a couple of places on Friday and see how I feel about making a change there. It would be nice to have a place close to home instead of to work so that it would be more convenient for J to help with driving. I have some reservations about a couple of the director's ideas about when kids should do certain things.

Lots of cuteness with the boys though. Deflater Maus is allergic to something, so he wakes up pretty crusty, but DAMN he is happy. He is a morning guy. Monkey on the other hand wakes up grumpy and whiny but wants to party all night. No level of noise or chaos seems to bother Monkey. Maus is like me-- prone to overstimulation induced meltdowns.

Latest Tricks: Monkey is a fishing and RC Car lovin' fool. Maus plays peekaboo-- hiding his face and then coyly revealing it. They're AWESOME!