Stinky Fish and Ear Wax

So the midsummer party went well, I ate pickled herring in many forms, along with anchovies mixed with egg… and for some reason found it delicious. Perhaps it was the three shots of Swedish schnapps I consumed, post two glasses of white wine and one hard cider. Oh, and another shot of homemade blueberry vodka poured out of a nalgene. Perhaps it was the leftover adrenaline from the most passionate round of croquet that I had ever played. I don’t know, but, mmm, stinky fish are tasty!

There was indeed a May Pole, which come to find out is a big ol’ pagan representation of a penis, complete with balls, which made me happy. We didn’t laugh at it too much when had trouble staying upright.

The rest of the weekend was full of errands and babies. Not ours, ours friends. I am recommitted to my I-don’t-want-one-of-those convictions.

A few days ago, The Funasaurus went to the doctor, and among other things, it turns out his ears are full of wax. So the doctor made him get this little ear cleaning kit at the store, and we proceeded to put the droplets in his ear last night. And then waited for grossness to ensue.

But it didn’t.

It just kind of… re-gunked in his ear, apparently.

So the directions on the box say that if “stuff’ doesn’t come out, you can irrigate the ear canal with a rubber-tipped ear syringe.

Being fresh out of those, we decided to use a turkey baster.

So I’m sitting on my bathroom sink, basting my future husband, looking for copious amounts of ear gunk, and the only thing I find myself thinking is, “How thoroughly did I wash this thing? I wonder if there are leftover bits of giblets from Christmas being flushed into his head, currently?”

So, he’s psyched. The turkey baster didn’t really work (SURPRISE) so we tried again this morning with minimal luck. It was an odd morning altogether. We both overslept. Sugar became fixated on an invisible bug in the corner of the room, and would do nothing except stare into the corner. I tried to lure her out with treats, and she ignored me. Tatum attacked her, and she let out a pitiful squeal, but managed to remain wide-eyed and vigilant. So we went through our morning routine, gave Tatum a mouse, and last I checked before leaving, Sugar was still staring wildly into the corner. If she’s moaning something about “the others” by the time I will get home, I am going to take her to the vet and revoke her T.V. privileges.