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September Twenty Nine

9/29/2012

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SEIGE
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Gregorific is under siege. At least I’m pretty sure. My impression may have to do with that in Sunday School my kids are learning about the plagues. Or it could be that gregorific exudes a certain reptilian or insectile charm. Neither option is appealing. Either way: Eeeps! Take cover. 
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First Plague: Climbing Mouse
I covered this one in a previous post. My dog succeeded in treeing a mouse. At the perfect moment, I glanced three feet over and saw the nervy mouse swinging in the breeze directly at my nose level. Eeeks! 


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Second Plague: Angry Yellow Jacket
I am outraged by this one. So mad. I have to wait to explain this plague. Because the $%#^^$#^ bee stung my baby. My fists clench as I type this. Hang on a sec- I have to go hammer something. Back in a bit--


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Third Plague: Curvy Snake

My daughter and I were loaded down with supplies after a Girl Scout meeting. Just outside the church door was an itty bitty snake. Many girls had already walked past but the snake came out just then.  Perfect timing to completely freak out gregorific and all gregorific crew members.  It was curved into a very distinct shape. If only I knew how to interpret its message maybe I would be able to make some sense of this onslaught of plagues. Possibly it means, ‘You’re screwed’. (I’m told this is a baby rattlesnake.) 


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Fourth Plague: Chef Frog

This morning: Half asleep, I stumble into the kitchen hoping for a pot of coffee to be magically already made and steaming. A leaf blows away from my foot. Wait. A leaf? In my kitchen? I squint at the dusty floor. It’s not a leaf. It’s a FROG! In my kitchen! What the--?

I yelp. I exclaim. I shout. I holler. I scream for Mr. Gregorific. He arrives in time to scoop the bugger up right as it tries to hop into my kitchen floor vent! And the absolute worst:

Mr. Gregorific says: “Oh no, that’s not your home anymore.”
Anymore! HOME?
No to the no, no, no. A frog lives in my kitchen vent? I pulled off the vent while shielding my face. It’s okay, people. The coating of dust and lint and unidentifiable particulates was undisturbed-- no frog flipper prints. It was just jumping into the nearest, darkest hole to escape my husband’s darting hand.
We put it outside. It sat there with hair and dirt on it- from my floors. The shame and horror is not as deep as the relief.
My dog stayed asleep on the couch the entire time. Like, ‘Oh, that? Yeah, that’s our frog.’ 


You are probably wondering what kind of horrible housekeeper gregorific is- and you’d be well justified in those wonderings. Gregorific is not keen on housecleaning. When I cannot avoid it any longer, I crank up the tunes and get busy scrubbing, vacuuming- you know the boring old drill. There is an inverse relationship between my writing and my house’s cleanliness. If it’s a messy hovel then my writing is going awesome! If it’s clean- you know I’m running dry. Luckily my house is never clean! Hooray for gregorific! Boooo for gregorific’s crew who has to put up with stacks of this, piles of that, and pawing through laundry in the morning hoping for a matching sock. Keep hoping! Mismatches build character!

What plague will be next?

Hopefully a publishing plague, or a lottery win plague, a perfect weather plague, a chocolate galore plague… 

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Okay, so a plague can be a good thing. Let’s keep thinking that. The plague’s half full, people. Half full.

Hiding out,
gregorific

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