Waterproofing Water

One day, as we eat our lunch, David pipes up with a thoroughly and uniquely absorbing question.

"Daddy, is water waterproof?"

As the rest of us ponder the depth of the subject, Dad suspiciously glances over at this young philosopher. "What kind of question is that?" he laughs.

Now David, ever seeking answers to his probing questions points out that that isn't any sort of an answer and reiterates his question.

"Well, I guess I'd say 'No'," Dad muses, "because if you pour water on water it will be wet."

Satisfied, David begins somewhere else. "If you pour water into a lake, does that water sit on the top of the lake or sink down to the bottom?"

"You sure ask interesting questions David!" Dad chuckles.

Andrew now decides to enlighten us all with his knowledge.

"Easy - the second law of thermodynamics."

The rest of us smile and nod our heads, perfectly clueless as to what that law states, but content to trust big brother and act knowingly as if we do - all the while guessing at whether Andrew knows anymore than the rest of us.

"That doesn't answer my question!" David complains pointedly.

"It diffuses. But not if it's ice, of course."

"Then what does it do if it's ice?"

"It sinks."

"But why?"

"Because of density."

David ponders this answer for awhile, then turns from big brother's highly scientific answers to something a bit more, shall we say, unique.

"Daddy, if you put water in a dryer, will the water become dry?"

"No, it won't." Dad answers, as we all laugh at the idea. Dry water... now that's something else. We have dry ice - what's to stop someone from inventing dry water?

"Well then the dryer isn't doing it's job - it'd be broken!"

"No David, a dryer is supposed to dry clothes, not water." explains Dad.

"Oh. Can it dry hair?" David tries.

"What?"

"Can a dryer dry hair?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure what you mean David, I suppose so." Dad answers after some thought on the matter.

"What if the hair is on a animal - like a cat or dog and you put the cat in the dryer with wet hair - will the dryer dry the cat's hair?"

"David, you are so funny!" we all laugh at his candid-ness.

"But would it?"

"Well, I'll tell you what would happen - you'd end up with a dead cat!" and we all laugh once again as Dad imparts this piece of wisdom to the baby of the family.

David then decides to ask the infamous 'killer question'.

"How do you know Daddy?"

"Well David," Dad states with a smile, "believe it or not, there are some people who think like you do and they've tried that."

Whoa! We look at each other with looks of mixed impressiveness and horror on our faces. No kidding. Dads sure are cool!

"In fact," Dad goes on "some people have even tried putting their animals, like kittens or hampsters, in the microwave." Dad looks around the table at our amazed faces.

"And what happened?" Stephen ventures, after a breathless pause.

"Well they exploded."

We all burst into fits laughter, as Andrew comments on the effectiveness of the idea.

Mom, on the other hand, is horrified. "Andrew! That's animal abuse!"

"No mom, it's just animal population control...." Andrew replies, "...so NUKE THE KITTIES!"

Advice on Finding a Wife

Mother to her five-year-old son: "When you are looking for a wife, get one who is big enough to hold your kids down and spank them when they are bad, little enough for you to carry across the threshold when you marry her, and mean enough to stand up to your mama."

Overheard at the Capitol, Episode 2

“The less the Senate gets done, the better for the taxpayers.”

“The Senator from Cass has hurt my feelings.”

“Anything to stop Hillary – except assassination. But if somebody else wants to do it…”

# 1: “What are you doing?”
# 2: “I’m preparing to fight evil!”
#1: *laughs* “I can’t think of a better man to do it. You’ve got to know evil to fight it, right?”
# 2: “Right. I like to say that when you stare into the abyss, it stares back. I’ve become corrupt.”

“They are bright, scholarly, intelligent, educated fascists.”

“You seem calmer today.”
“No, I’m just on stronger medications.”

“These are our enemies saying this about us.”
“Then it must be true!”

“I’m a terrible liar.”

“What do they teach in political science? How do they stretch it out over four years? I could teach that in a week!”

“He’s so excited that the train is moving, he doesn’t care if he’s in the caboose.”

“We have the best government money can buy.”

“He knows so much about so many things that he thinks he knows about everything.”

“Why would you want to support me? I don’t deserve your help.”

“I don’t care.”

“If they saw us in the street, I really think they would run us over.”
“So what should we do?”
“Stay away from the street.”

“That spineless wimp of a man! Where’s his backbone?”
“I think it’s in ______’s pocket.”

"Ohh, that was so eloquent! I wish the media was here so you could have said that on the radio.”
“Well, call ‘em up! I can say it again.”

“You know everyone is scared of you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say something that wasn’t already known?”

“He...has teddy bear eyes - you know, the kind you glue in. When you look at him, it’s like looking into a shark’s eyes. They’re dead underneath.”

“It’s frustrating how we work and work on an issue, and then you come and it all falls apart.”

“I used to be against ______, but then the opposition hired a cute girl to lobby for them.”

“Oh, ok. Then I won’t worry about it anymore. Now, what else do I have to worry about?”

“The Senator from the 14^th is shooting daggers at me. Am I walking into a cow pie here?”

“I...believe that he is principled and works incredibly hard on all the issues I disagree with.”

“We have to tell them we have a plan. Even if we don’t.”

“If you write it that way, people will start thinking it and feeling it, and next thing you know it will be true.”

“If we have some way to check the task off, alot of women will do it just so they can check it off.”

“After we attended that meeting in Chicago, I was so glad I was from Missouri.”

“His smile is too big anyway.”

“But Senator ______ is an airhead! You mean he actually told you that?”

“Nobody gets elected unless they have a secret.”

“They keep beating me over the head with a pillow. It’s usually a soft one.”

“I’m lyin’ to you.”

My Crickaphobia

Sometimes life feels like a pink electric eel with a top hat flopping around in an underwater fish tank eating pumpkin pie. It's during times like that when you feel both depressed and exuberant at the same time. Like when you think of me having the personality of a squid that looks like a zebra. Another time when you feel both happy and depressed at the same time is when you have an over-rated fear of geeky-looking elephants. I think it's what a sophisticated, educated, civilized person would call goolarectyphobia.

You see, I am one of those strange people who have over-rated fears. Not necessarily of geeky-looking elephants, but of green penguins who do acrobatics and ballet on a stage in Brunei, also called gioreetopheeptiroaniaphobia.

I also have an over-rated fear of monsters - jumping monsters. Ugly, scratchy, disgusting, jumping, monsters! I hate them passionately. Lots of people have a phobia of monsters. But these scary monsters live in our cellar.

Yes, that's what I said - we have monsters in our cellar.

I know you don't believe me.

It hurts.

I'm a VICTIM!!!!!!

Anyway, yes. We have monsters (otherwise known as crickets) in our cellar. BIG crickets! And I am afraid of them. They JUMP!

Whenever I need rice, or honey, or pasta, or wheat, I ask David to get it for me because as long as those crickets are down there I refuse to go into the cellar.

"Abigail, can you go get me some wheat for me?"

"Sure, Mom."

I grab the Tupperware container and head down the stairs. Suddenly, my crickaphobia comes over me and I dash back upstairs. "Mom, um, I'm really sorry but I can't get the wheat for you."

"Whyever not?”

“Because there are crickets down there; I’m afraid of crickets!”

“Come on, Abigail; it can’t be that bad. Just try it, this once, for me.”

“Oh, whatever, I’ll try it.” Very unsure about the future, I hesitantly travel down the stairs once more, take a deep breath...and open the door.

I glance around, the walls seem clear….oh, there are two in that corner…nope, there’s one on the ceiling …. and one in the pipe….

I sigh. I’ve got to do this! “For mom and for country!” I yell, as I brandish my Tupperware container and boldly step into the room.

But just before my feet hit the cold gravel I jump back.

That was close!

On the floor is a new kind of monster – a creepy snake-like thing.

This is too much. “Sorry, Mom,” I say, once safely up the stairs. “No go. There was a snake down there!”

“Come on! Don’t be such a wimp. That’s my pet lizard – he’s cute!” she gushes fondly.

“Mom? You have a pet snake!?!”

“It’s a lizard, Abigail! Here, watch me!” and with this, Mom goes to face the monsters.

Safe upstairs, I shake my head in incredulity. This is a new side of my mother; a pet lizard!?

Five minutes later, I am stirring the sauce on the stove and experiencing great remorse on behalf of my mother’s distressing situation (which she unknowingly placed herself in, despite my wise suggestions to the contrary).

Suddenly, I hear a blood-chilling scream from the cellar. Then a door slams shut and I hear feet rushing expeditiously up the stairs from the cellar. Mom runs madly into the kitchen. I turn to look at her with wide eyes.

“Mom?”

Her hair is disheveled, some grain has spilled on the floor in her mad rush, and her eyes look ghostly in their extreme terror.

“Mom?” I repeat, “what happened down there? You okay?”

Dazedly she sets the grain on the counter, “Abigail, it was horrible down there. But I fought them off!” Her voice is quaky and hoarse; a hint of a tear glistens in her eyes.

“Mom?”

“Oh, Abigail!” she begins to shriek crazily, “First there was that…that...SNAKE! And it attacked me!” Mom frantically demonstrates her wrestling match with the snake. “And then they jumped on me! – MONSTERS!!! CRICKETS!!!

“HA YA! WHOOSH! AHHHHH! KAPOOSH! HA!”

I stare at my screaming mother, who is dancing wildly around the kitchen and attempting to karate the air. “HA YA!” She yells once more and attempts a kung-foo move. She violently chops the air with her flattened hands, and desperately uses martial arts as her last defense.

“Abigail, they were all around me! I couldn’t get them off! HELP!!!!”

“Mom?” I stare unbelievably at her – where did she learn martial arts?

“Didn’t you hear me down there?” They, they, they were attacking me! But I fought them off – and here I stand. Safe at last!” I watch as mom ends her dramatic soliloquy in an equally dramatic and sweeping bow.

I guess she expects me to clap?

But no. I raise my eyebrows as she bursts into torrents of hysterical laughter.

"Ha! I got you!”

“Mom?”