Potty Training the Neighbors

So, I have been sitting here reading my morning news, and the neighbor kid (in the backyard behind us) will NOT stop screaming. Apparently he didn't tell mom that he had 'to potty'. All I got from the punctuated syllables between the sobs was "I wa.....nt sbusbsb!!" Mom, with her hands on her hips: "Are you gonna tell me next time you have to go potty?" "Yeeeess! Sob!" "Grab your pants then, right over there!" Potty training! Whew! That's one part of parenting I'd rather skip. Don't they just come out that way?
Okay, now we're getting somewhere. He finally stopped the screaming. What is it that causes kids to scream like that? Sometimes I feel like screaming, but I don't. Do these kids feel the same way and just express it more openly? Do they have no concept of the social stigma on screaming at the top of your lungs, tearing off all your clothes and running around with tears running down your cheeks?

What do you do when it's 100 degrees (Farenheit)??

Look at me! I'm floating!


Ahhh! There's a fish nibbling on my belly button! Ouch! Stop!

(Thrashing, splashing. Joanna gets pulled under, is gone for a whole minute. She reemerges, having defeated the trout.



Dad quickly builds a fire and roasts the little bugger. When it has burned to a savory crisp, Sir Oliver sneaks up from behind and steals their dinner. He swallows it whole. Is there more? Urp.)

Rubber Bands

Meet Zorro - quite dignified, majestic and arrogant to boot. Never has such a magnificent animal, no, being ever existed or will ever come into being again (you might say it's all in his head).
But Zorro has a secret, a fetish, if you will. Zorro, the masked cat of mystery, the fierce feline fighter, the mighty hunter, eats rubber bands.
"A cat that eats rubber bands," you say. "Absurd! Unheard of!"
You don't believe it?
Neither do I.
Mother is convinced that Zorro has a secret stash somewhere, where he deposits all the rubber bands he captures. Know where it is, mom? It's called a litter box. Yick!
It's really turning into a problem. Not a few times have I been awoken by a great tuxedo-clad beast standing on my chest, sniffing all over my neck. Oops! Forgot to take the rubber band out from under my pillow. That could have been fatal!
The funniest part of this...er...thing are the comic strips that have been turning up in the funnies lately. Seems that someone else has the same fetish. See the 'Get Fuzzy' strips below:






Maybe I need to take Mr. Zorro to therapy with me tomorrow...

I'm baa-aack!

Where did I go? Uh, nowhere. Well, I started this blog last year in a fit of whining about my boss at the YMCA. I lasted three posts. I think two people have read my blog. Me...and one other guy who left some comment about my first post. He said it was good...obviously he didn't read it. LIAR!!
Seriously, I have a much er shall we say more constructive reason for keeping this blog up to date. I grew up in Eugene (with a seven year stint an hour up the freeway in Salem), OR. (That's Orygun for you poor pronunciation-challenged people. NOT AR-E-GAN). And I am making the big move overseas in about two months. Moving to Israel. You may think I am crazy, especially with all the Hizbullah stuff going on right now, but I am not. We'll just leave it at that.
I thought it would be a good idea ('cause I am just smart like that) to keep an online journal with art (photos) and letters (entries) to let the people back here in the states in on the secret of my life in Israel. I'll try to post regularly, and I have started early so I can let you all know (maybe) just what it is like for someone like me to make such a huge move (yikes).
Well, that's it. Happy hunting!!
Signing off