Wednesday, February 29, 2012

In Which Finnigan Takes the Term "Leap Day" Quite Literally

Sometime during the night, Finnigan decided that he's had enough of this lying about, quietly. Instead, it was clearly time to leap onto my bed and to attack my feet; it had been almost a week, after all.

This morning, he is racing and leaping around like, well, like a playful kitten. I am so relieved. Guardedly, so, but relieved, nonetheless.

I'm crossing my fingers that he is, indeed, back to his old self and that the crisis has passed. Meanwhile, we will enjoy the return of the hellcat.

In other good news, The Teenager has been invited to the prom. She will be attending with her ex-boyfriend and she is beyond excited.

What's that? I failed to mention that she has an ex-boyfriend? My bad. Although, in my defense, it was the most amicable break-up in the history of relationships (as evidenced by his invitation to the prom) and, minus any hint of drama; there wasn't much to say about it. Except, I should extole the virtues of two kids who, upon realizing that being in a relationship was slowly killing their friendship, opted to seperate; the goal being to preserve that friendship. They are soooo much more mature than I was at their age and I'm proud of them both.

Also, prom dress shopping, yay!

In other good news, The Teenager gets her braces off today. I'll let you know how that goes just as soon as I reel her back in from her flight to cloud nine.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

And Not a Moment Too Soon

I just saw a robin outside the kitchen window. It is the first sign that spring is on its' way and, as signs go; it could not have come at a more opportune time. I am struggling. Mightily. I am laboring under a funk that goes beyond the usual Cabin Fever and am at a loss as to how I can shake it off.

My malaise could be due to the fact that, since we brought him home from the vet on Thursday, Finnigan has failed to show much sign of recovery, he is, not himself, to a devastating degree. In addition to lethargy and sleepiness, he has shown signs of hind-leg weakness, and a recurring inability to balance himself. The symptoms come and go-sometimes he seems almost normal-but, last night, he experienced an episode of disorientation that bordered on blindness. He was walking into cabinets, limping in circles, and seemed almost catatonic.

A call to the emergency vet clinic provided no comfort; we were told to keep him warm and quiet and to wait for an appointment in the morning. The episode could be a seizure, it could be the result of a blood clot, it could be any number of things, there was simply no way to know.

Hugh was immediately plunged into vivid memories of his last days with Gilligan and, understandably, could not fathom experiencing that nightmare again, so; I told him to go to bed, that I would stay up with Finn. That I would be the one to shepherd this pet into the next life, should the responsibility for such thing present itself.

The kids said their goodbyes. There were many tears and questions and recriminations against whatever force in the universe could take a second pet from us within a little over a year and, it was, of course, heartbreaking.

I wrapped Finn in a warm towel and held him to my chest for a couple of hours. He purred like a jet engine the entire time. After a long nap, he shook himself free of the towel and walked in a perfectly straight line to his food dish, where, he proceeded to polish off a can of food before suddenly noticing one of his toys, which; he took to batting about for a bit before jumping back up onto the couch and curling up next to me.

At 4:30, he walked upstairs, pausing long enough to make sure I was following, then, into our bedroom where, he curled up in one of his usual spots under the bed.

By the morning, he was acting more like himself than he has all week. As I type this, he is basking in the sun on the kitchen table which, is a total no-no, but; I am loathe to stress him by moving him.

In a conversation with the vet, today, I expressed my reluctance to stress him by taking him back to the clinic, since, he was so obviously distressed by being there for the surgery. To my relief, she agreed. We are in a holding pattern, waiting to see if he continues to improve or if he relapses into another episode like the one last night. Either way, we have no clear idea of what to expect from his health in the future. I did cancel the appointment with the heart specialist, citing my reluctance to stress a cat who may have, you know, heart problems, and the vet agreed with my position.

I've second-guessed that decision numerous times, today but, when Finnigan also noticed the robin outside the kitchen window and began to stalk it from the perch of the window ledge; I relaxed just a bit.

Time will tell, and, in the meantime, I just need to hold on to the belief that everything will be alright, that Finnigan will enjoy the springtime and that the robin is a sign of better things to come.

And they cannot come a moment too soon.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Now, That's Sweet

Remember how I jokingly said that, in lieu of actual plans to celebrate her birthday, an impromptu gathering of friends would probably take place in our home, flash-mob style? Yep. We got mobbed last night.

It was a lot of fun for the kids, I'm sure, and, The Teenager appeared to be enjoying herself but, I have to admit to being somewhat of a party-pooper (flash mob pooper?), myself, due to the fact that I managed to pick up a raging head cold sometime between attending the Man-Cub's wrestling tournament earlier in the day and the party later in the evening.

On the bright side, my retirement to my bed chamber allowed the kids ample opportunity to push every stick of living room furniture up against the walls to make way for an epic Just Dance 2 battle of the sexes. I'm not sure who won but, when I got up this morning, my house did appear three times larger. Also, I should probably vacuum under the couches more often.

Because I preferred to spend the party under the influence of Thera-Flu Nighttime Cold Medicine, I also missed the opportunity to cringe at the sight of the junk food buffet, desperately scavenged from the recesses of the cabinets prepared and presented by The Teenager. I did not, however, miss the opportunity to drool over the chocolate cake that her father so thoughtfully picked up for her at the grocery store (35 days to go, 35 days to go, 35 days to go), as; it was left untouched on the kitchen counter, this morning, because: Quoteth The Teenager "We totally forgot about it!" (35 days to go, 35 days to go, 35 days to go).

In praise of the teenagers comprising the Mob, I will say that the house was not trashed, I was not kept awake by the noise of either the Wii competition or the movies that the kids watched afterwards and, on the rare occasions that I did foray into Party Territory (for Thera-Flu refills); the kids were extremely polite and appreciative of being allowed to command the first floor of our home.

And, The Teenager enjoyed the company of her friends which is what we really wanted for her on this very special birthday.

As an aside, if you are expecting a flash mob at your home anytime in the near future, I totally recommend a Thera-Flu coma.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Under the Knife

My dad has from suffered extreme back pain for most of the past ten years, maybe even longer. Due to the combination of many factors, including advancing scoliosis and the general deterioration of the discs and cartilage in his spine; he was becoming less and less capable of living a quality life. In addition to his back problems, he also had a bum shoulder and some issues with his neck, so; over the course of the past year, he has endured four separate surgeries, the last two-on his back-were done over the course of three days earlier this week.

Thankfully, he came through the surgeries with flying colors and is now on the mend. Granted, he will have to endure physical therapy and rehabilitation but, if he comes out of the experience with even a tenth of the pain that he had before; he will be thrilled.

As will we all.

In a little bit of irony, while my dad did well with surgeries this week, Finnigan was not so fortunate.

 A routine procedure (bye-bye, nutsack) went horribly wrong and the vet lost Finn on the table. Thankfully, she was able to revive him but, because his heart maintained such an irregular rhythm for so long, both during the surgery and immediately after, the vet suspects that Finn has a congenital heart defect of some sort. Of course, her practice isn't equipped to diagnose such a thing so; she has referred us to a specialist in Neighboring City.

The specialist charges $400-$800 to administer the ultra-sound that will tell us whether or not Finn has a bum ticker. Hearing the estimate may or may not have caused my own heart to go into an irregular rhythm but, that is neither here nor there.

So. We have a decision to make.

When he isn't on an operating table, under general anesthesia; Finn is healthy, rambunctious and perfectly normal. When he goes under, he is knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door, and, while there is a possibility that it was the anesthesia, itself, that caused Finn's deterioration on the table (although, the vet said she had never seen a reaction like his), there is also the spectre of a congenital  heart defect that will need to be treated for the remainder of Finn's life (although, the vet also said that she couldn't detect a heart murmur at any time prior to his surgery nor was she able to detect any type of irregular rhythm following his weaning from the anesthesia).

So, do we pay an exorbitant amount of money to find out, or, do we accept Finn, as is, for as long as God intends?

I really hate being an adult, sometimes.

Anyway, we have an appointment with the specialist next week. I'm going to speak with a friend of a friend-who happens to be a vet-for his opinion of the case before then, and, if he agrees that we need to keep the appointment, we will. Because, obviously, we love this damn cat and want to do whatever we have to do to keep him healthy, even if that means selling one of our own kidneys to pay for the procedure.

Or, my old Rebel, if worse comes to worse.

Still. Adulthood. Hate. Bleh.

C'mon, you know you love me more'n your luggage.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Sweet Sixteen

It's hard to believe that sixteen years have passed since Hugh and I brought The Teenager into this world. Sixteen years of laughter and tears and lessons learned on all sides. I'm grateful for every second of every day of every year that we have been blessed to know her.

Parenting is a huge responsibility, but; it's also just a ridiculously awesome privledge to watch someone grow from a squishy, delectible-smelling infant with chunky thighs and rosy cheeks into a long, lean, gorgeous , semi-adult, albeit; one with attitude.

Happy sweet sixteen, baby!

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

My Body is a Temple

Today is the first day of Lent and,  as usual, I have chosen to give up sweets for the duration. I have also opted to give up crap food in general and, to treat my body as kindly as I possibly can. One might hear that and think, "Well, that's no great sacrifice" and, to those people I say, "Scuh-roo, you!". You have no idea how difficult it can be for me to care for myself in the manner that the good Lord intended for His children. Life, you see, tends to get in the way. Plans go awry, the best of intentions fail to materialize into action and I fall off the good health wagon more often than I stay on it. be specific in my personal covenant with the Lord, I vow to spend the next forty days and nights eating whole, fresh foods, drinking plenty of water, exercising moderately each day, sleeping more than a few hours a night, practicing yoga or some type of relaxation exercises and thinking positive thoughts.

Candy, chocolate, grease, and salty snacks will be banished from my diet and I'm really going to work on cutting out my one daily Diet Pepsi. I think I can do it. Will there be some rough patches? Grouchy moments? Pity parties? Probably. Will that be enough to derail my efforts? Not likely.

I'm a pretty loyal Lenten follower and I don't expect this year to be any different. That said, God will undoubtedly test me with the worst cravings ever.

Time to push auto-play on my new mantra: My body is a temple, my body is a temple, my body is a temple....

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Longest Weekend in the History of Three Day Weekends

Our trip to Denver was exhausting, not just for me but, for the girls, who spent eight hours a day in the gym, playing volleyball. They started off a bit rough, dropping their first two games before rallying enough to win the championship for their bracket in the final game of the tournament.

We spent a lot of time sitting around, waiting for the next game to begin or for the next time our girls had to officiate other teams' games. The sitting around could get quite boring but the girls rose to the occasion, allowing me to break in my new Canon Rebel T2i; they are sweet like that.

The final game was at 3:00 which put us on the road home at almost 5:00. Thankfully, the mountain pass was free of snow and we pulled into the High School parking lot at 10:00 to deliver the three additional passengers we acquired when one of the other moms had to leave for home a day early.

It was a fun trip. We got some shopping in and the volleyball games were exciting but, man, it's nice to be home.

It's even better to be home with Champions.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Now Would Be a Really Good Time to Start Stockpiling Canned Goods

Despite my relative inexperience driving in city traffic, the children and I made it to our hotel, unharmed.

Upon our arrival, the Man-Cub joined several of The Teenager's teammates in the hot tub (and, I quote: Hellooo, ladeeeeez) while The Teenager hunkered down in my room to work on a summation for a debate that she must have turned in on Tuesday.

To recap: we are in Denver, in a fairly decent hotel and one of my children is studying, voluntarily.


The Apocalypse.

Judgment day.

The Mayans totally called it.

Consider yourselves warned.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

I Really Should be Packing but I'd Much Rather Complain, Instead

Apparently I didn't completely blind the appraiser, yesterday as his appraisal came in well within the range that we had expected. So, the final step left to complete in our quest for a lower interest rate was the acceptance of employee verification forms for myself and Hugh. Unfortunately, acceptance proved to be quite a challenge to obtain, given the fact that anyone who is authorized to verify such a thing just happens to share our last name, you know, because it is a family business, and; the lenders balked at having employment verified by a relation. What part of family business they failed to understand is beyond me.

Anyway, after much back-and-forth with our lenders, I finally threw my hands in the air, chanted off a quick eenie, meenie, miney, mo and, tag, you're it; made one of our store managers sign the forms.

Which, were approved. Immediately.

Let the ridiculousness of that settle in, won't you.

At least the deed was accomplished before the kids and I leave for Denver, tomorrow. As I may have mentioned a while back, Hugh is already in Denver, having left yesterday to officiate at the state wrestling tournament so; I am on my own for the drive. Aside from the fact that this means I can listen to any odd combination of music that I want to, I will miss his company, especially once we get into the city and I have to navigate the traffic whilst refereeing fights between my offspring and hyperventilating.

Yep, I'm looking as forward to that as you might imagine.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Thank Goodness I Have Invested Heavily in Victoria's Secret Underwear

Because I apparently didn't get enough fondling from strangers, yesterday; I went in for a mammogram, today; my annual Fondling by Strangers quota is now officially filled.

The mammogram went well and, by well, I mean; it was awkward and uncomfortable. You know, like usual.

Speaking of awkward and uncomfortable, we are refinancing our mortgage and the bank scheduled an appraisal of the house for today. The appointment fell inconveniently close to my mammogram appointment, causing me to rush home from the hospital. When I rush, I tend to overlook minor details, and; this time, I overlooked the top three buttons on my blouse. I'm really hoping the house will appraise better thanks to the peep-show the appraiser got when I answered the front door, however; I'm not holding my breath.

Which, by the way, I  also failed to do while having the mammogram done and, FYI: The technician tells you to hold your breath for a reason.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

It's Valentines Day!

The busiest day of the year for florists, chocolatiers, and private investigators.

I'm not even kidding about the third one on that list which, is just...sad.

Anyway, I personally employed the services of none of the above-mentioned professionals, opting instead to drape myself across a strange bed for a groping by someone I only see once a year.

The groping was quick and painless, just the way I like it and I can now check "Annual PAP Smear" off my to-do list for the year.

Well, what did you think I meant?

Seriously, though, happy Valentines Day, if that is your thing. Happy Early Cancer Detection Day, if it isn't.

As an aside, I really, really hate the word, smear.

That is all.

Monday, February 13, 2012

It starts With G and Ends in Ah

I took The Teenager to her second-to-last orthodontist appointment, today, and, to say that she is psyched about getting her braces off on the 29th of this month would be a vast understatement; she is, in all reality, beside herself with glee.

Seriously, I can see two of her and; they are each practically vibrating with excitement.

So, of course, there has to be a monkey wrench thrown into the works. Of couse there does. In this particular case, it is the fact that we are scheduled to leave for Denver for a volleyball tournament on the same day that the braces come off. Ordinarily, this would pose no problem as The Teenager's appointment is at 10:00 a.m. Unfortunately, in addition to having the braces removed, she also needs to have one of her front teeth bonded; the result of the tooth not being as long as it's neighbors  due to a chip that she received lo these many, many years ago. That appointment won't take place until 4:00 in the afternoon which, puts us on the road to Denver by 5:00, at the earliest. Denver is a five hour drive away and my night vision can best be described as sucky.

Granted, I may just be borrowing trouble since, in addition to this scheduling snafu, the Man-Cub has a wrestling tournament that same weekend and, since someone has to be present to support him; I could beg out of the Denver tourney and hand the driving reigns over to Hugh.

Except, the Cub might prefer to have his dad mat-side rather than his mother. I don't know; I just know that the whole thing is giving me a huge stress headache which makes me want to dive, head-first, into a vat of chocolate which, can't happen because Lent is right around the corner.


Saturday, February 11, 2012

I Am Dangerously Close to Becomming That Crazy Cat Lady

Laziness, sloth and overindulgence continue unabated here at Casa de Chelle; this morning I rolled out of bed at 8:00, pulled my hair into a ponytail and proceeded to sit my ass on the couch to watch an ongoing parade of feel-good movies (Hope Floats, anyone?).

The Man-Cub and I did tear ourselves away long enough to stock up on necessary provisions (ice cream, popcorn and trashy magazines) and I did clean the house but, otherwise, yeah; Sloth City.

The Teenager finally roused herself from her slumber at 11:00 and has since occupied the recliner with The Hunger Games in hand; once she powers through the book, I have promised her the use of my Kindle for parts two and three of the series so that she may be completely up to date with the story prior to the release of the first movie next month. She is slightly less slothful than her mother. On this day, anyway.

Truth be told, the least slothful member of the household today is the cat, and; his personal hygiene is stellar.

Nothing to see, here. Move along.

I am slightly concerned about his drinking problem, though.

Come on, one little drop. Give it up for the Finn-master...


Aww, faucet; I love you, man.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Party Like a Rock Star

Hugh is out of town this weekend; officiating at a regional wrestling tournament. While he is gone, I intend to take full advantage of the remote control and the thermostat while making good use of the opportunity to feed my children a steady diet of convenience foods. I also expect to utilize the cool side of his pillow numerous times throughout the night. Clearly, it's the little things in life that excite me.

For entertainment while he is away, I intend to clean the house. Oooh...ahhhh.

Heck, I might even go all out and reorganize my pantry. We are talking Charlie Sheen levels of partying up in here. In fact, I may have to pencil in a nap, just to recover from all the excitement.

I don't know how the celebrities do this, weekend after weekend after weekend. A lesser woman might crumble under the weight, but; I'm a survivor.

Thursday, February 09, 2012

February is the Longest Month

Another storm rolled into town last night, bringing colder temperatures, a light dusting of snow and, steely-gray light with it. I am so tired of depressingly-gray clouds; they are affecting my mood, accordingly.

What are my saving graces? Having things to look forward to, obviously.

- A new seed catalog, delivered in yesterday's mail, reminding me that spring is just around the corner.

- The debut of OPI's new ballet-inspired collection in April. Rumor has it the colors are appealing rather than appalling (as the last several collections have been, sadly).

-Girls weekend, Girls weekend, Girls weekend.

-Sandal weather.

-Redneck Yacht-clubbing with Jana and Co.

-Saturday morning trips to the Farmer's Market for fresh eggs and local honey.

-Hours spent on a lounge chair, soaking up the rays of the sun (liberally coated in SPF 30. I crave sunlight, not cancer).

-Porch Night.

-And, because it bears repeating, Porch Night.

Only two months to go. Three, tops.

I can hang on. I can.

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

Disorganized Organization: That's How We Roll

Yesterday, Hugh and I drove to Mayberry to deliver a new washer and dryer to my parents. We had planned to make the delivery for quite some time but the timing never quite worked out. Yesterday was the only day that we both had available to make the trip this month, so, off we went. Coincidentally, my college roommate, Phoebe, had called last week to order a new gas grill for her husband for Valentine's Day and, we were able to deliver it along the way, so, it was a win-win all the way around.

Seeing family and friends is always a win, in my opinion.

Speaking of seeing friends, The Teenager's sixteenth birthday is only a couple of weeks away. While Hugh and I have asked her, repeatedly, what she wants to do to celebrate the milestone; she has been less than helpful, claiming not to know what she wants to do, whom she wants to do it with, where she wants to do it, whatever it is, etc. It's quite frustrating, really. At this point, I'm expecting a low-key and haphazardly planned event; something akin to a Flash Mob wherein I walk downstairs one night and a large group of teenagers has amassed in my living room, dancing wildly before quickly dispersing into the night.

 I suppose I should stock up on junk food, just in case.

Monday, February 06, 2012

Doing Dirty Harry Proud

Hugh and I conversed with The Teenager's volleyball coach today, using what can only be described as the Good Cop/Bad Cop  approach. Typically, I am not a fan of this method but do have to agree that it generally works in our favor when utilizing it on one of our children.

 It would appear that it works equally well with volleyball coaches and I'm hoping that we have all arrived at a good place; time will tell

For the record, I was the good cop.

Shocker, I know.

Saturday, February 04, 2012

If Ironing Can Give You Carpel Tunnel, Then I Haz It

Last week, I spent an hour or two of each evening, ironing chair covers for tonight's Snowball Gala.

Yesterday, I spent another three-and-a-half hours ironing 130 sashes for the back of chairs, as well as ten more chair covers for an additional table that we included thanks to last-minute ticket sales. Although my hands and shoulders are sore this morning, I found the ironing to be quite relaxing, which, is quite ironic (ha! Iron-ic, get it? I slay me!).

While I was ironing, the rest of the ladies on the decorating committee were tying the sashes into bows (I clearly lack the bow-tying gene which is why I eagerly volunteered to man the ironing board), suspending crystal-draped tree branches from the ceiling, and, arranging centerpieces of crystal vases filled with glittering  branches and seed lights on each table. With the inclusion of the white linens and strategically placed blue back-lighting; a perfect winter wonderland was accomplished within hours.

Today, a professional ice-sculptor from Aspen is transporting five sponsored ice sculptures to the civic center and, if the weatherman is correct; we will have a light dusting of snow by event-time. It's going to be gorgeous, I'm sure.

I'm not actually attending the event due to a perfect storm of familial obligations, including; a volleyball tournament for The Teenager, a wrestling-officiating assignment for Hugh, and, my own reluctance to pay $100 for a ticket (instead, I put the money toward the new camera that I am saving for; only $100 more to go, whoo-hoo!).

The Teenager's volleyball tournament wasn't on our original schedule and just sort of popped up as an extra opportunity for the team to get in some games before our big trips later this month and early next month. It is taking place in a resort town about three hours away. Since I had already committed to helping with the gala decorations, I sent The teenager with the family of one of her teammates. She is enjoying her team but, after a call from her this morning; I'm afraid we are going to have issues with her coach, after all.

Without getting into too much detail; according to The Teenager, the coach's daughter has played every minute of all of the two games so far this morning while The Teenager has been mostly benched. At the last tournament, I did notice that the coach's daughter played a lot more than several of the other girls and I wondered if it was going to become a trend. Apparently, it has and; a discussion with the coach regarding the equitable distribution of playing time amongst the girls (who all paid the same-fairly large-amount of money for the privilege of being on the team) will have to take place.

Honestly, in my current mood; I am tempted to simply demand a partial refund. We could then put the money into summer volleyball camps and The Teenager would get just as much (if not more) benefit for the buck. Plus, we would save an additional grand in travel expenses and I would be less likely to say something completely out of character for me. Which, is why Hugh will have to pursue the conversation with the coach, because, for the first time in the history of our marriage; I think I would be the less reasonable and more unpleasant parent with whom to confer.

That....does not bode well.

I'm pretty sure I need an intervention. Luckily, we have finally planned a Girl's Weekend and, while it won't take place until the first part of June; I do, at least, have it to look forward to and that calms me, considerably. Which, isn't to say that catty jabs at the mullet-like nature of the coach's hair will be removed from the program, entirely, but, with the comfort of knowing that time with my Girls is just around the corner, the catty jabs will take place mostly under my breath.

And, on this blog.

I mean, obviously.

Friday, February 03, 2012

I've Lost Me Mojo

I seriously cannot get it together, lately. I have no burning desire to participate in any of my favorite activities, I'm uninterested in trying new things, and, I lack the energy to do anything other than what I know I have to do.

This is...distressing to me.

I'm going to chalk it up to Seasonal Affective Disorder; not because I have been diagnosed with Seasonal affective Disorder by, like, a professional or anything, but, because I miss being outside and it makes sense. And, by outside, you know I mean Porch Night.

I need my social life back, damnit!

Anywaaay...I'm off to decorate the civic center in Hooterville for the gala being held by one of my service organizations, tomorrow night. The theme of the gala is winter; go figure.

Wednesday, February 01, 2012

Recent Conversations

Chelle: So, it looks like I am running for club secretary.
Hugh: Why?
Chelle: Because I didn't want to be President.
Hugh: Ok?

It's true; had I not agreed to run for Secretary, I would have been nominated for the office of First Vice President, a position that automatically becomes President in two years. By agreeing to run for Secretary, I ensure myself a one-year position rather than spending the next three years on the Board. Plus, by running for office, I have only a 50-50% chance of winning, whereas, with the Vice Presidential nomination, it is practically a given that I would be appointed. The office of Secretary looks pretty good, all things considered, and, I could lose; buying myself another year before I am asked to run for something else, again.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate politics?

Man-Cub: Mom, do you believe in Big Foot?
Chelle: Um, not really? Why do you ask?
Man-Cub: Well, I was watching that show on TV, the one where these people are searching for proof of Big Foot's existence and, I have a theory.
Chelle: Of course you do. What is it?
Man-Cub: Well, you know how they are always tracking something really big on nighttime thermal trackers and, all of a sudden, the thing just disappears?
Chelle: (Never really having watched the show) Oh, yeah. Absolutely. That happens all the time.
Man-Cub: I know, right?! Well, my theory is that, Big Foot shrinks down to, like, the size of a leprechaun and just disappears under a log or something.
Chelle: Well, that's....quite an interesting theory. Do you actually believe in leprechauns?
Man-Cub: No! That would be ridiculous.

But, a Big Foot that shrinks to the size of a leprechaun is perfectly reasonable. You know, in theory.

Have I mentioned how much I love that kid?