more pandemic quotes

Mini:  "Oh, hi Eugene - everyone Eugene is here!" - I missed Eugene's initial appearance.  I suspect I was hanging out in the study one night working on stuff for my class when introductions were first made.  

A few nights ago I was in the study and Mini was listening to me read my final paper aloud.  In walks Tank and Mini bust out laughing.  Eugene, I discovered, is Tank's alter-ego.  Eugene typically waddles into sight late in the evening with his t-shirt tucked firmly into his shorts.  His belly (one would never think that Tank has a belly, but he enhances it a bit as Eugene) intentionally protrudes over his waistband and he has a tendency to rub his gut while munching on some late night snack.  He is camera shy, so no photo just yet - but I will keep trying.  

Mini thinks Eugene might be the funniest person alive.  I have yet to get what he is all about because I usually try to snap a photo right off the bat and then Eugene untucks his shirt in disgust and the hilarity ends.  

A confused Ed:  “What?  Wait, what are we doing?  Haircuts?”  He heard Coach and I call Reg into the study and he was trying to figure out if there was an all-family thing happening.  It is often loud in the house especially if you are within an arm’s reach of Tank, so it can be hard to hear when someone is being summoned and my kids are constantly asking for clarification:  ‘Who are you calling, me? (please don’t let it be me)’ 

Since I just cut hair two weeks ago, that was not it.  We confiscated Reg’s phone last week and needed to have a pow wow with him in private (let’s pretend private is even a thing right now) about our parental phone concerns and necessary limits. 

Me:  “Are you OK?”  (Through snorting, crying laughter that I tried to hold in until I verified, of course, that my lovely daughter was indeed OK)  

Mini:  “Yes (also through red-faced, cannot-breathe, crying laughter - thankfully because otherwise I would have won a mom-of-the-year booby prize). 

Mini and I have been walking a 4.5 miles or so route almost daily.  She tripped last week and went down in one of those graceful falls that happens so gradually you are quite sure the klutzy person is going to recover.  Well, she did end up on the ground but managed to land in a low, elbow plank position AND then roll completely over till she was back in low plank mode.  The ground LOOKED wet and muddy in her off-roading escapade.  She didn’t want to scrape her knees and somehow managed not to scrape her knees or her hands or get muddy despite the fall. 

I think it was Kari who recently claimed people falling and farts always make her laugh.  Well, this was one for the books.  We were incapacitated with laughter for a good portion of the walk. 

As promised, and since I do not have cat like reflexes and I did not snap a photo of Mini's eventual fall, I am sharing this instead.  This is Mini at a stoplight (so that is why her wiggly hands are not on the wheel) sporting her beloved twisty turban because her showers happen midday which is when I am usually ready to take her on a practice drive.  The day we drove to Curly's friend's house for the b-day parade, Mini was also wearing one of those REALLY fluffy jackets giving her a more formal appearance- plus turban, which completed the look causing lots of double-takes from nearby cars.

"Can you hear me now?"  - Remember these commercials?  This was Coach, Lad, and I the other day trying to get set up with a zoom appointment.  Eventually we got it up and running but each time someone said, "Can you hear me now?"  - all I could think of was that Verizon commercial, or whatever brand, with the guy demonstrating the power of the network.  This repetitive annoyance was followed closely by: 

"Can you see me now?" After we were set up, the connection died and when we restarted it no one could see Coach and I.  They weren't missing much, so we left it alone and only contributed with our voices and obscene hand gestures as a ticked off parent who feels like a prisoner in her own house is apt to do.  

Me:  “Who is whistling?  Dear God, please let the whistling be replaced with ANYTHING?”  So, this is more internal dialogue because it is usually Lad who is doing the whistling and I must walk on egg shells with him, so that’s fun.  Seriously though, the whistling is going to make me lose my bloody mind.  It is not an actual tune, mind you, just random notes of torture.

Me at random intervals during the week:  “Curly is it time for your zoom Irish dancing class?” followed closely by:  “The ipad just died, can anyone help Curly get on a Zoom on my laptop, or her laptop, or your laptop?”