So I received a message on Facebook a few days ago from Mr. "Workman" asking if I would at all be interested in watching his "urchins" this Friday so that he and the wife can go see the Drive By Truckers at a local music venue. By urchins he meant his three lovely little girls. Also known as "demons" on occasion they are my sunshine on a rainy day. There are many reasons why I love this family and the best way to break it down would be by doing exactly that.
Mrs. Workman is the stay at home mom type with a twist. As far as parenting skills go we very much see eye to eye. She has high hopes for her children but allows them to succeed while being individuals. This does however result in knock-down drag-outs between the girls every once in a while. Which she handles famously. Just looking at her you would never guess that she secretly wants to be Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Or that on more than one occasion she has considered becoming a drug dealer. (Not heroin or anything dangerous, more like Mary Louise Parker's character on "Weeds".) She also is the type to dress her toddler up as "Chuckie" for Halloween. Yes folks, the above picture is very real. Doesn't get much better than that.
Mr. Workman is fantastic as well. It is always cool when you can talk music and movies with your boss. The funny part about knowing a family as well as I know the Workman's is you get to see them transition with their kids. He is a Hobby Connoisseur. First it was the theater room, then the speaker system installed in every room (to provide the option to play music really loud throughout the house), then the sophisticated wine collection, and lately the fine art of coffee brewing. Don't take me the wrong way from the previous statement he is an excellent host. I guess I just prefer "Two Buck Chuck" from Trader Joe's. He is a lover of Widespread Panic and dogs. The "Panic" part I can forgive him for. The dog part is the next portion of this story.
You see Mr. Workman is a lawyer and was trying to make partner at his firm several years ago. At that time "Anna" and "Abby" were the only kids in the house. He successfully talked Mrs. Workman in to getting two dogs. They decided on the golden-doodle breed. Shadow and Goldie were are force to be reckoned with. They tore things up and had problems keeping their bowels under control as sometimes puppies do. Then here comes "Chuckie" and suddenly the idea of being preggers with her third child and cleaning up dog shit became a little less than romantic.
So one day she calls me to ask if I was interested in taking one of the dogs. Goldie was given to a gay-couple down the street already. So half jokingly I agreed thinking that he would never allow this to happen. In the back of my mind I wasn't so sure. I go over there one day to watch the kids and at the end of the night I pack my car with the dog and all of his doggie stuff. I was sure that she had told him about these happenings. Generally a late-night worker, it wasn't strange that he wasn't there to confirm. The thought that he wasn't cool with it did not even cross my mind. We hop in the car and get to the stop sign in the neighborhood. Who pulls up next to me but Mr. Workman. Naturally I paused, rolled down the window, and said "Hello". I got the death stare. He says "I am not very happy about the fact that my dog is in your backseat right now"! My stomach dropped to my toes realizing that he had no idea that she would really give his dog away. She sure as shit did! Talk about the most awkward situation ever. At that time, that one took the cake.
I am gonna leave it at that for this week. Next time I will dabble a bit into the lives of the girls. You will see why the little one is being referred to as "Chuckie" and hear more about the lot of them. Also, for those of you that paid any attention I am sorry about last weeks post. I was at the beach visiting my niece and had limited interweb access. Thanks a bunch for stopping by!
P.S. My dog's name is no longer Shadow. He is now Cash or Cash Money or Money or Money Maker...................you get the point.