April's Real Blog

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Dog Days of Mom and Dad

Did U all C Mike's parting shot 2 me last nite, in the comments? "Although, knowing how your writing as been lately, you will probably find something even duller, like dogs scratching themselves as a topic. It's what comes from associating with Amazon River parasitic water life." That is so unfair! Mike wrote that AFTER he'd been on the other end of a fone call from Mom, screeching abt fleas and dogs and Dad. So he KNEW that wd B my topic 2day. And who is he 2 criticize my writing, considering his cruise thru memory lane.

So, yeah, this is abt the dogs. Mom suddenly noticed that they were scratching a lot, so she gave 'em baths and put flea collars on them. Then, shortly after that, Mom noticed that DAD was scratching like crazy, while playing with his trains. Mom and Dad didn't come rite out and say that Dad got a flea bath, too, but I did notice he's got a flea collar around his left ankle.


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  • At 8:38 AM, Blogger DreadedCandiru2 said…

    I wouldn't worry too much about the Delicate Genius. He's far too wrapped up in himself to know what's going on around him and it shows. What bothers me is that your mother is resorting to a familiar tactic in dealing with her problems: a half-measure that guarantees that she'll have to do it again. Instead of getting a scrip for Advantage and giving your house a thorough cleaning, which would solve her flea problems once and for all, she slaps a band-aid on things so she say she's done something about them. The does go right back to their flea-infested bedding and her problems re-appear. You'd almost think she doesn't want her troubles to go away, that she wants to suffer and yell.

  • At 8:56 AM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    yeah, and u really can't tell my mom nething. she just kinda tells u 2 get a life and goes back 2 the way she does stuff.

    @ least i'm outta here in a coupla yrs. i don't think i'm gonna look back once i go!


  • At 2:11 PM, Blogger DreadedCandiru2 said…

    I've noticed you can't tell Liz much either. If you do, you get a childish insult. There's another thing I can think of that Liz and your mother have in common: pretending to do housework. If you and your Dad didn't object, she'd happily sit in a pile of her own wastes, drinking coffee and reading trashy novels. If Amphony doesn't have groveling to his ex to take him back as a back-up plan, he's really stupid because he's gonna end up with a dimmer, screechier version of the sheet-shaving freak.

  • At 3:42 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    if i try 2 tell nething 2 liz, she usually chases after me, like she's gonna hit me w/a newspaper or beat me up. it's not pretty.


  • At 4:23 PM, Blogger DreadedCandiru2 said…

    Neither is she when she's eating. She makes most barn yard animals look well mannered.

  • At 6:26 PM, Anonymous liz patterson said…


    I think I know the answer to the mystery of why Grandpa let Mom carry all my baby things in the airport like 25 years ago, the reason probably was that Grandma and Grandpa didn't realize Mom would have so much stuff for a baby, back in the days when Grandma and Grandpa had babies, they lived a simpler life, much more like the First Nations people, who carry their papooses strapped to their backs on a board, and use diapers made of animal skins with moss stuffed inside, and use the sticks and rocks on the ground as toys, they do not have strollers and playpens and Fisher-Price and Disney stuff, we lead a very spoiled existence that simpler people like Grandpa and the First Nations people could not understand or approve of, it is right that Mom was punished for being so materialistic and out of touch with nature, when I have a baby, if I ever manage to get married, I will do it the First Nations way, and hardly give it any stuff at all, I am already trying to convince Anthony that is the way to raise Frenchy, that we should send her up north to Mtigwaki to be fostered by Gary and Viv, who are barren and would probably love to have a child so much they wouldn't care it was half-Frenchy, so she can go to school up there and learn the Native ways and maybe not turn out to be such a horrible materialistic bitch as her mother, Anthony is being so stubborn though, insisting he wants to keep his kid and raise her, sheesh, spoiling her already.


  • At 6:39 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    hm, liz, r u implying that u r spoiled? and if u r, don't u worry that b-ing spoiled cd mess up yr ability 2 make (step)parenting decisions?


  • At 11:02 PM, Anonymous nelson muntz said…

    Ha ha! Your dad got fleas!

  • At 12:43 AM, Anonymous michael patterson said…


    Formerly little sis. There is something to be said for mattress comfort. That was the lesson I tried to give today to my little daughter as I showed her pictures of my trip to visit Grampa Jim and Gramma Marian in Vancouver back when I was her age.

    My daughter said, “Aren’t you going to say something about what happened in these pictures?” I said, “Daughter, dear. You see that word balloon there in the first picture, where I am asking a question which takes up 5 lines of text?” My daughter said she did. I said, “Whenever the old pictures I am showing you have a really long word balloon in the very first picture, particular if it’s a word balloon showing something I said, there is really no reason for me to add anything.” My daughter got on her knees and said, “Pray for long word balloons. Pray for long word balloons.” over and over until I told we had to look at the other pictures too.

    In the first picture, Grampa Jim is showing off his pyjama-buttoning technique, which is a little odd when you consider the pyjamas I am wearing in the picture don’t have buttons. I suppose that is why he felt the need to shove his knee up into my stomach to get the leverage needed. When I examine the picture, I think I should have been looking at his twisted and malformed hands, but probably in those days, I thought all old people had twisted and malformed hands. So instead I asked my Grampa Jim, “Do I really get to sleep in the same bed mom slept in when she was little, Grampa?” My daughter said, “Why did you ask that?” I said, “Daughter, dear. When I was little, I thought my mother was really old, so it seemed incredible to me Grampa Jim would have a bed that old too, without it falling apart.” My daughter said, “Oh. It wasn’t?” I said, “No. Let’s look at the next picture for Grampa Jim’s answer.”

    Sure enough in the next picture, I was in bed and Grampa Jim was pulling the sheets over me and the word balloon showed his answer, “Yep!—Your mom slept here, dreamed her, did her thinking here…” My daughter said, “He didn’t answer until you got all the way in bed.” I said, “Grampa Jim was like that. He was a hard man. If you want an answer to a question, first you have to do something for him. Most times, it was to hide his cigars in your suitcase, or forget the time you saw him with a blonde lady who wasn’t Gramma Marian; but this time it was to get into bed.” My daughter said, “So Gramma Elly did sleep there. Why did Grampa Jim say she had dreams and did thinking there too?” My very astute daughter had once again picked up on a subtle message, and I really did not want to get into mom’s story about the occasions which necessitated her being locked in her room for days at a time, so I said, “My mom was good at multitasking. That means she could do 3 things at once---Sleep, dream and think. Isn’t that impressive?” My daughter said, “Not really, daddy.” I said, “Let’s look at the next picture.”

    As I showed my daughter the next picture, she immediately shrieked, “Grampa Jim. His arm stretched to turn off that light. Is he like Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four?” I said, “No, daughter. His arm isn’t nearly as stretchy as Mr. Fantastic; but it was still very impressive. Notice the way I say, 'Sigh'.” My daughter said, “Was he your hero?” I said, “No. I liked to keep my light on at night.”

    Finally, in the last picture, there was Grampa Jim with a quizzical look on this face, as I led into my moral of the story ---the importance of a comfortable mattress. I said, “…For an olden days bed, it feels pretty good!” My daughter said, “Can I get a new mattress on my bed? It’s the old bed Gramma Elly left us. For an olden days bed, it feels pretty bad!” I said, “Daughter. I have spent more than 2 weeks going through old photo albums to keep you entertained. Is that something a dad with enough money to buy a new bed would do?” My daughter said, “Sigh. No, daddy.” I said, “Exactly.”

    More photo albums tomorrow, formerly little sis. Maybe we will discuss important things like measuring the quality of olden days toothbrushes or olden days toilets.

    Michael Patterson


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