Leaving Leaves

Each year in October, the Williams clan takes a family photograph in a large pile of leaves out on the front lawn.  Last year, the event started orf nicely with a big breakfast party in which all of the Williams family mates came to the house to eat bagels and play in the leaves.  As a side note, I must give credit where credit is due.  It did not escape my attention that Mr. Williams (clever weasel that he is) had all of the men help him rake up the leaves into a big pile before the leaf jumping could begin. Not a bad return for a bag of bagels and bucket of cream cheese.  But I digress.  Back on the main stage, everyone had a mint time jumping in the leaves. And then they went gaffe and the Williams came back indoors.  And the leaves – all the tens of thousands of em - sat out on the lawn as a beautiful, decaying reminder of the smashing time that was had by all – until April.  Yes, from October until April did those leaves sit undisturbed, rustling and whispering taunts of neglect in the wind whilst the neighbors sat shaking their heads and clucking their tongues. And even now, there remains what reminds me of an alien crop circle in the shape of a pile of brown bread leaves right in middle of the front lawn. Chivvy back October. The neighbors and I anxiously await yer return.

Quarters for Sale!

Last week, the middle wean showed some shrewdness and initiative. Of his own accord, he ran for and won a seat on the student council for his school. I had the privilege of speaking with the newly elected kindergarten official the other day about why he believes he outperformed all of the other kindergartners in the election. In his speech, turns out, he promised the other lads that if elected, he would make sure the playground received a new tire swing. Following is a portion from my little interview, bessy I can recall:

• Noah: I think that’s why I won. No one else promised anything like that.
• William: Ah yes. bleedin' mint. So… how dae ye plan to get a tire swing on the playground then?
• Noah: That’s nothing. I’ll just get a tire and take the middle out, then hang it with a chain from a tree on the playground.
• William: So where will ye get the tire?
• Noah: Lowes, I guess.
• William: So how dae ye plan to pay for the tire? Surely they won’t just give it to ye?
• Noah: …
• William: Hadn’t thought of that then? Well suppose ye hae a fund-raiser?  Ye could raise the lolly I bet.
• Noah: Oh! I know what to do! I'll have a fundrasier and sell quarters for a dollar a piece.

I dae believe that wean has a bright future in politics.

Teeth and Fairies

Emma, the daughter of the family has recently lost two teeth.  Lost is such an inappropriate word for this kind of thingamajig.  In both cases, she had the bugger forcibly removed from her head by Mrs. Williams.  There was all manner of hellish screaming, tears and threats.   Add to that all the fussing Emma was doing and ye begin to see the picture as it played out.  Ye know, a child can go from one emotion to another in a single breath.   It felt as though the tooth had been plugging up a great deal of excitement and joy that was free to burst forth once the tooth was removed.  And there is no wonder why; the tooth fairy must hae inherited some dosh because it is certainly more generous now that it was when I lost my laughing gear.

Death of the Olde Grey Floater

A vehicle is sod all to get too caught up about.  They all dae about the same things.  They all pass the same standards.  None of em are allowed to go as fast as they are able.  However, some of em can make ye feel alive.  Inspire ye to go and dae.  Not so with the Williams’ minivan.  No, the “olde grey floater” made ye feel many things, but alive was not one of em.  Uncomfortable, yes.  Uncool, cheque.  Unable to open the passenger side door due to a lack of a handle, quite.  But alas, it could get ye where ye wanted to go and it could carry the whole family plus me there at one time.

And then, last May, it couldn’t. Well, it could as long as y'r destination was straight ahead.  Bung in a turn, and ye were SOL.  Cheerio olde grey floater.  Wotcher beautiful Veracruz with navi, sunroof, leather, xm and the ability turn both left and right at any time.  Ahhhh, it is noice to feel alive.

Paint and Patience

A fresh coat of paint on the wall can make an enormous difference in the way one feels about a room. Take for example the Williams’ main living room. For quite some time it was a dingy yellowish colour that made the room seem both too bright and too dark at the same time. One found himself squinting in the darkness as if he were standing in the middle of a campground at night staring into the kind of yellow light bulb that is designed to scare away insects. Naturally, the entire family was exited this past weekend to hear that Mr. Williams had decided to repaint with a colour described by the big orange store as "beach sands." Ceerio darkened sun. Wotcher soft, inviting, neutral beach-tone.

Patience, in my opinion, is a word created to describe the feeling of defeat and helplessness that invariably fills the chest when yeh cannot get what yeh want when yeh want it. Kill it, I say, before it gets comfortable. Therefore I cannot tell yeh much about the painting process because it just takes too long and is horribly boring to watch. Here are the highlights:

• The primer went on.
• Beach sands went on, but no one could tell. Beach sands is apparently a fancy name for more primer. Or to be more poetic, it is the colour of the reflection of light. At this point in the process, the Williams tried desperately to fancy the colour because they had painted the entire room in it, but no one could be sure what the colour was. It was as if yeh could not see the walls because there was always this blinding glary reflection from the light.
• "Oat bran" went on. A noice colour going on to be sure, but one that has the same effect on a wall after a few hours as its namesake has on a colon in the same amount of time.
• Gnashing of teeth.

As of this entry, the oat bran still clings to the walls, mocking Mr. Williams and his patience. Mrs. Williams is at the store choosing the foe that will be round 3. I’m orf to find some snacks and brandy – I think this round could be entertaining.

Banjo

During my brief blogging hiatus, the Williams household took on an extra piehole to feed. It is a sweet enough piehole whilst its owners are about, but leave it alone with a mild mannered butler and it grows sharp fangs and overactive saliva glands.

Sadly, the duplicitous ingrate of a K9 has turned forever against me. Just a couple rounds of “dodge the vacuum” and I hae been forever labeled in the dark mind of the four-legged thingamajig as untrustworthy, un-forgiven. Thou might be tempted to believe that the ill-will radiating from the dog’s blackened soul is due to the fact that it is a sore loser, but thou would be pete tong. I did win the first few rounds, but in the later games it came back to nearly tie the score. It has an unnerving and inexplicable ability to gander in more than one direction at a time and is keenly aware of which way the vacuum might be coming at it – even in the dark.

Anyroad, they named the beast Banjo, which is fitting since its howlings and growlings are as grating on the nerves as its namesake. Incidentally, how can ye tell if there's a banjo player at yer door? They can't find the key, the knocking speeds up, and they don't know when to come in.

Mower Four

Mr. Williams is not what one might ring up “handy.” He seems to dae well enough with intangible graft – logic, persuasion, etc. – but if yeh put sumfink in front of him that requires he touch it… let me just say his 5 year olde son frequently fixes his mistakes. From what I can tell, this is not entirely his fault. There bleedin' well may be some sort of curse upon him that causes these tangibles to rebel against him, quietly sacrificing themselves at his expense. Take for example his experience with lawn mowers. I hae seen him mow his grass many times. (I was originally expected to mow his grass for him as part of our working agreement, but with my chronic toe jam I am sadly unable to fulfill this duty. I typically sit inside under a fan and in front of one of the windows and sip iced rosie whilst he mows. I wave every time he goes by in an effort to encourage the skint lad.) Anyroad, he mows as yeh would expect him to. He doesn’t scapa over much other than the grass. However, in 3 years he has utterly destroyed as many mowers. He is on mower four now. He has gone through only too weed wackers, but this second one is currently held together by duct tape. Oh that I could help him. Curse this toe jam.

Testing, Testing. Is this thing on?

Please allow me to re-introduce myself. My name is William Swilliams Williams, and I fill the position of family butler for the Williams'. In theory, I cook and clean and run the house, but Mrs. Williams is really so organized and over-motivated that I honestly just don’t hae that much to dae. Yeh ’d think I would blog more often. Truth is I hate blogging fancy a dog hates flees, which is why there has been so few (naught ) entries in the last 869 days. If only there was some sort of reward. Perhaps if someone would agree to present me with points towards bottles of brandy for each dickey bird I offer up. Any takers?

And now, after careful consideration - and also after my last semi-annual review in which Mr. Williams pointed out 1) the clause in our agreement where in which I agreed to log the goings on of the Williams household for posterity and reflection, and 2) my sore lack of competence in this particular area –I hae decided to re-begin my blogging with renewed vigor and diligence.

Alert the media. Tell the baked bean. I am about to begin.

The Smackdown

The other day, Emma paused her computer game to go downstairs 4 a potty break. Noah, seizing the opportunity, sneaked over to the computer to try his hand at the game. Upon her return, Emma noticed that the game had been tampered with and proceeded to get up in Noah's grill and let him hae it. She was launching a skillfully planned verbal assault in which the primary tactic was to talk fast enough to complete the tongue lashing before Mama could respond and schtum the operation down. Noah stood there in the queue of fire - what must hae felt fancy a familiar gaff - a little overwhelmed, not sure how to stop the insanity. Yet even in his stillness, ye could c him deliberating, searching 4 a solution, reviewing his options.

At the age of three in the Williams' house, there aren't that many options when planning a counter-attack. Unless the technique has been specifically demonstrated on Mr. Rogers or The Backyardigans, ye 're pretty much dependant upon y'r own depravity 4 a solution. And even this must be pondered and practiced in secret, carefully crafted away from the strict and watchful eye of Daddy.

As the word barrage continued, a calm resolve settled over Noah's face. There would be consequences, he knew that, but there r times when a laddie must endure a spanking 4 the cause of peace. In one quick, measured movement, he set his jaw, stiffened his fingers... and smacked Emma right in the gob. Success! The onslaught came to an abrupt end as Emma scuppereed mid-word. Though un-tested, the procedure had proved effective.

In the silence that followed, both children stood there looking both at each other and through each other at the same time. Both would be punished. Both would move on. Neither would ever be the same. The relationship between a brother and sister is a complex and beautiful rope, wound tighter over time. For better or worse, a strand made of something new had been woven into the rope.

Tea Time!

Back in January, Emma turned 5 years olde right under my conk while I wasn’t looking. ye know, she is getting rather sophisticated. She threw a smashing teaparty to celebrate. Each person made a teacup and then had fruit rosie and cupcakes. The whole thingamajig made me miss my olde gaffe back in Grange-Over-Sands. Mr. Williams took some photos that thou can see here.

All hail the new neighbor!

Can I get a hallelujah? Someone welcome me back to the world of the wide web! I hae nearly had a conniption since my last post back in November. And to think that I could hae made one more before my lock down but decided to enjoy some rosie and brandy instead. Mr. Williams (I hae been known as of tardy to ring up him a few other names but 4 brevity and tact I will leave that alone) caught wind of my blog and thought my time might be better spent cleaning and fussing with the children than “recounting past events with a profoundly warped perspective on a blog no one will ever read.” Bobbins. I dare say circulation on this modest blog might hae paralleled that of the London Minute before the unfortunate hiatus. Anywho, I m back. And I now hae a cause, Mr. W. Yes, thou may be smart dooze to block blog sites through a firewall but can thou control the new neighbor’s unsecured wireless network? Ha! I think not.

Dooze of that. On with the blog! Let’s see. In December, there was Christmas…January was Emma’s birthday. February was Valentines and Mrs. Williams’ birthday. Thou know, honestly I don’t recall much of the last three months. I may hae been doing a tad more drinking in the afternoons (I fancy to think of it as a sort of rebellion against Mr. Williams 4 cooping me up with no internet access.) More soon, assuming the new neighbor continues his support in the current revolution. I shall try to pay a tad more attention to what is happening so I can keep thou informed.

Regards,

William Swilliams Williams

Family Butler

Fun in the Leaves

Today, the whole family ventured out into the front yard to play in the leaves that had fallen from the trees while I moped about the house. Wish that I could hae found summat to dae to earn my keep but the house was already so completely straight and orderly that I finally decided to just nosh on some Halloween sweets and watch the goggle box. Which reminds me, as soon as I m finished typing out this blog entry, I'd better go and clean up all of the sweets wrappers before Mrs. Williams finds em. Perhaps I'll wait until she is watching and blame the children 4 the dog's breakfast. Anywho, the Williams certainly did seem to enjoy the weather. Mr. Williams captured some memories that thou can c here.

Regards,
William Swilliams Williams
Family Butler

A Trip to the Zoo

On Friday, November 2nd, Mrs. Williams took orf on a relaxing weekend retreat, accompanied by some ladies from her church, leaving Mr. Williams alone with the children 4 the entirety of the weekend. I might hae been there to assist when necessary, but I had a touch of the sniffles and so I left Mr. Williams to fend 4 himself. (Poor bugger.) As I understand it, they survived the weekend, suffering sod all but a little damage to their bees and honey bags. According to the children, they ate donuts and sweets 4 most of the weekend and ventured a trip to the zoo.

Regards,
William Swilliams Williams
Family Butler

Halloween Perks

Halloween was a smashing holiday for the Williams family. At least from what I can tell from the pictures. They all left me here alone. I was supposed to hand out sweets to the little vampires and power rangers that happened by, but instead I turned out the porch light, watched a little goggle box and ate all the sweets myself. Ha! And they said there would be no perks. The Williams’ children were dreadfully cute in their costumes. Emma went as Snow White, Noah went as a zebra and Caeden as a monkey. I have posted a picture so you can see. You can sneak a peek at the photo album too.

Regards,
William Swilliams Williams
Family Butler

The Pumpkin Patch

On Saturday, October 2oth, the Williams took orf to some pumpkin patch across town, leaving me to sulk around the house. Looked fancy a beautiful day. They brought gaffe a pumpkin shortly after that, but I learned it was a hormone pushing import from the grocery store, not a local, all natural, slightly pitiful vegetable of choice locally grown and cared 4 through the ruthless drought of '07. Doesn't matter becuase the darn thingamajig still sits in the garage un-jack-o-lanterned. Next, they'll be telling me to take it down to the dump because it won't fit in the garbage can...

Regards,
William Swilliams Williams
Family Butler