How well do you know your husband?

I was blog trolling again today. Came across this post elsewhere, and since these were things I was actually thinking about (or at least along those lines) just yesterday, I thought "eh, I'll play". So here goes:

1. Sitting in front of the TV, what's on the screen?
ESPN, Madden football on the PS2, or as it happens while I type this, some sort of action/thriller type of movie.

2. You're out to eat; what kind of dressing does he get on his salad?
Ranch

3. What's one food he doesn't like?
The list of things he will eat is shorter but he will NOT eat okra.

4. You go out to the bar. What does he order?
Amber Bock, Killians, Miller Lite

5. Where did he go to high school?
Paxon

6. What size shoe does he wear?
9 -oops, he said 10

7. If he was to collect anything, what would it be?
softball teams

8. What is his favorite type of sandwich?
A burger stacked with as many patties as possible with cheese layered between each one, no condiments, no salad.

9. What would this person eat every day if he could?
Beef and potatoes in whatever form it arrived. Burger and fries, steak and fries, burger and chips, steak and baked potato

10. What is his favorite cereal?
Cocoa crispies

11. What would he never wear?
a speedo or a skirt

12. What is his favorite sports team?
Jacksonville Jaguars, Florida Gators, Atlanta Braves

13. Who will he vote for?
If he voted, I wouldn't know who he selected since we don't share that information with each other.

14. Who is his best friend?
Me, J.C.S., R.K., T.K

15. What is something you do that he wishes you wouldn't do?
whine, bite my nails, sit in front of the computer way too much

16. How many states has he lived in?
2 and 1 other country

17. What is his heritage?
Irish, American Indian, English via France (way back during the Crusades)

18. You bake him a cake for his birthday; what kind of cake?
Anything I bake is well received, but his favorites involve chocolate.

19. Did he play sports in high school?
Football, baseball, soccer, basketball (in the hood, not at school) and spent time as a band geek. - oops, apparently he did play basketball on a school team, but it must've been before we met.

20. What could he spend hours doing?
Playing PS2

21. Does he belong to any men's organizations?
City Recreation League Softball

For this meme, I will tag:

The woman reading this.

Men CAN understand women at times

If not understand them then at least understand how they tick. A few days ago marked 16 years that my husband and I began our relationship. After a male dominated household was effectively leveled by arrival of my clone, the male dog's demise, and one male child moving to another place, it's safe to say there is ample estrogen in this house. My clone, young as she is, does indeed have those heinous hormonal swings and she's ill-equipped to handle them. No one can tell me she doesn't get them, especially if they do not live WITH her daily. Today I have been rather .. hm... the only way to describe it is a bit of a "MRWAWR!!!" mood and the clone's has been "HIISSSSS!!!!", which the males here can avoid if warned. They were in fact, NOT warned this go round. My husband, God love him, went out to get a paper this afternoon and came back with something else as well. He walked up to me saying "Hold out your hands" to which I obliged.
I asked what that was for and as he poured Pink M&Ms in my hands, he said "Chocolate! So you can calm your butt down." The clone asked him why he gave mommy more than he gave her. He told her that it was because we hadn't eaten dinner yet, and he knew mommy would eat all her food (followed by comments about how I eat more than some grown men). After 16 years with this man, I'm pretty sure he was thinking not of how big my appetite can be, but more like how big a temper I have. Smart man.

Random Teenager Blurbs

My son is, um....different. Unusual or strange might be a more apt description of him. He's a combination of his father's physical attributes, but my personality quirks. He also has middlechilditis sometimes, suffering it or enjoying it remains to be seen. He has adapted to the "oldest" child role a bit more since the actual oldest lives elsewhere. Plus there's that whole phasing through different levels of maturity...he's morphing before my eyes and it's interesting some days, still frustrating at times. He's always been funny, even as a baby. Today was no exception. Two instances in a matter of a few minutes, and he's my blog post today even if he wouldn't let me take a picture of the first story. Some people need a visual, and he's not indulging. BAH. He can touch his tongue to his nose. (Insert your own comment there, I'm sure it's the same one my husband has said.) The oldest was always grossed out by it, so the boy would purposely put his tongue up on his nose, JUST to make his older brother squirm. "EWWW Quit licking your boogers!!!" was heard MORE than once in this house. This morning, the boy (maybe I should call him Wildebeast) was apparently fascinated with sticking his tongue on himself (I'll worry later about him sticking his tongue on other people) and I hear "mmm, I taste guuuuuud."
Mothers become nearly immune to some of the quirks their children possess. And if they can't be immune, they at least develop a really good poker face.


Then, just a few short minutes later, I sat at the desk, and since my husband likes to keep it arctic by my standards I was cold. When I have half the meat on my bones that he has on his, I get cold easily and he's still overheating. I keep a travel blanket at my desk, but someone took it.
I asked "alright, which one of you turds took my blanket?"
"That's racist"
"Against what? My children?"
"Nooo maaaan. It's racist against turds!"

Damn, I lost the poker face.

My head hurts

and it's from all the politicality. I want to run from the scene screaming "STFU!!!!!!!" to everyone. Local elections teeming with BS, underhanded comments, backbiting. Just quit already. Tell me what you're going to work on in office and I'll tell you to do the job or go away. And I cringe at our presidental offerings. I'd rather eat something my 6 year old concocts.

What we really need is a stay at home mother with enterprising ideas to run for president (or any other office for that matter). Because, Lord knows if anyone can balance a craptastical budget, referee fights and get resourceful, it's a MOTHER.

Retail therapy

I've been scoping out furniture for my den. I need a shorter desk, and I need something more compact for my yarn, but still big enough to hold all of it. I should do some stash busting but that's another post. I have browsed thrift stores, consignment shops, yard sales, craigslist etc. Desks come in such a variety that I have almost given up. I bought my current desk without drawers to hold me accountable for my clutter. Man oh man, does it hold me accountable! I'm so accountable I can't even keep it clean. It's as organized as its ever been, and it's a wreck. I have too much crap in all honesty. I'm working on paring it down and have done tremendously the past month, fits and starts and pauses that it has been. So in my search for a desk, I have seen lots of pictures. Some of them are really nice, and the pictures make me wish I had the money, a truck and a house big enough to go buy the desk...*sigh* I really should keep one of those billionaire's offspring or nephew or something on a side burner for future use.

What I also experienced was annoyance at sellers. If you're expecting me to buy the desk, please oh please clean it off. Given my current habits (in reformation) that desk will look JUST like the photo in my house, except it will be my crap on it, not yours. Just to clarify, this is what I like seeing in an online listing for Joe Schmuckatelli who needs to get rid of stuff:


These are not:

I don't really see a computer...but it could be hidden. Will my desktop computer fit? and is that LAUNDRY underneath it?


This says "I'm disorganized and when you get here to pick it up, I'll be disheveled and won't have any change, but let me look in my purse...now where are my glasses? I set them down somewhere." At least the floor is clear. (Shamefully I can't say that about my desk)


While this is not my desk, this is kind of what the state of my desk looks like. Actually they have the same tower and similar monitor that I have...except I can't drink green tea, and my desk would have piles stacked, not quite so randomly tossed like this.


This is further argument for drawers. At least you can HIDE some of the mess

I would upload a picture of my desk, but I have the forethought to skip sharing my embarassment with you.

Update on my Aunt R.

I just got off the phone with my aunt. I called my Grandmere earlier but she'd been given misinformation. So, from the horse's hoarse mouth itself.... there was no cancer (THANK YOU LORD!), the left side of her thyroid was removed, and the right side was nicely abraded during cleaning and scraping and removal of a bunch of stuff that didn't belong there.

Plus my other aunt, T, needs some prayers, as she was assaulted on her bus route yesterday and now has the physical wounds to heal (minor but nonetheless painful) and legal aspect of this situation to tend.

Unknowns

Pardon me while I get mushy and off my usual snarky bent. My aunt R is in one hell of a situation of situations. I must keep the confidence of information, but I know that I couldn't deal with half of what is on her plate...if not even one percent of what she is handling. What I can, and will tell you about is her impending surgery this Tuesday the 26th. She has a mass on her thyroid, and it's started to "vascularize". This means it's started attaching itself to her vascular system (aka bloodstream) and that is a big red flag for something being cancerous. Fear? You bet. She and I both carry it. She's got the additional stress that has her stomach upset as well. I would be unable to get out of bed. She's a very strong woman and I've always had high regard for her, even when I was a mere preschooler and she came to visit all the way from Missouri. The next time I saw her was when I was 15 and we spent 6 weeks of our Summer vacation up there and that vacation was probably my absolute favorite of all. She and I were virtually inseperable. OK, so it was more like I was up her backside and if she stopped short, my size 10s would be dangling from behind her. I always knew we were quite a lot alike, and she sees herself of years past in me now. We think alike quite a bit, we get the same jokes (usually no one else does), we relate in so many ways. She has incredible friends that paid for her to come down here for my mom's funeral 3 years ago. I could hug RH if I met her, and thank her for giving me a great gift such as that. I came to know things about my mother that were hidden from me. My mom handled her wounds in different ways, and I was able to make peace with her death by those stories R shared with me. It's entirely possible that I helped R make peace with her half-sister's death (although it's all or nothing in our family) or at least helped get some sense of closure on it..I don't know. We have come to rely on each other and I just wish I could be geographically closer to her, even temporarily because she needs the help. As it happened, less than a year after my mom died, my uncle D died of uncertain circumstances. My grandmere who is 2 weeks older than my Dad, is getting frail and needs help from R. There is much more that I can't disclose that just blows my mind. I fear for R's health and well being and yet I can only sit, hundreds of miles away, praying that she is returned to health so I can still have my Aunt R in my life. Between her, Persnickety and my friend C, I have a plethora of medical knowledge and trivia factiods to entertain myself for years. I have been incredibly blessed to have the friends and family I was granted. It just sucks when there's too much pepper in the pot and things get out of whack.

It's a pretty craptacular day when the highlight of her day consists of me telling her that it's my niece's birthday, an online chat buddy's birthday, and my friend H's birthing day-and that I was her labor coach via phone. (Yes, she was in a hospital and her husband was there. They're also in Michigan with no family or friends.)

So, please add my Aunt R and those around her to your prayers. Guidance, peace, clarity, fortitude and discernment. 2 Corinthians 12:9

Race ya!

Fay, Forever and Fickle Fay...is still not completely outside the borders of Florida. She is faster than she was before, but still...

While in our vicinity, she was moving at 1 and 2 miles per hour in any direction, now she's going 8 mph west-ish. Aside from the fact that the girth of the storm was so large, we probably could have walked faster out of town than Fay did/is.


And, having been cooped up in overcluttered snug quarters for two and a half days, I ventured out of my dwelling. I had to drive across the yard to leave because the driveway was covered in dropped oak branches. I had to get to Hobby Lobby and hope they had rosary centers, buy one and get to the nearby post office by 1 PM so I could overnight the package to my aunt in Missouri. See, the weather was supposed to be craptastical on Thursday, and that would have allowed me to mail a package to Missouri Friday to be delivered by Monday. Nope, no dice. So I had to spend three times as much to send it Express instead of Priority. My aunt is worth it though. No rosary centers at Hobby Lobby, and by the time I got through there, it was too close to call getting to the post office before closing. I decided the main post office was my best option to avoid further stress on my part. The Clone and I did a little shopping, went to a friend's house to get one of her rosary centers and after finishing the incomplete rosary, we left for the post office - CLEAR across town. I got my package shipped off with a commitment from "Nor rain, nor sleet, nor hail, nor snow..." that it would arrive Monday afternoon.

In the midst of all this, were phone calls throughout the day to my friend H to check on the progress of her labor. All is well and the baby arrived in good health, and H will now sleep on her stomach for a few days...probably propped up with pillows to keep from squashing the milk laden mammaries.

And all of this on race day in Bristol.

Did you want to drive there?

This is my Dad's oak tree. It is rooted between his front fence and the street. His house is off to the left. Sis captured this picture with her cellphone. She tells me that the tree split in half and fell over into the neighbor's yard across the street. Since Dad's house is 82 years old, I am guessing the oak tree is around 100 years old too. If I understand her correctly, sis told me there is the main trunk and some little offshoot branches still intact.

Boy Scouts are Always Prepared

I'm tired and kind of eh today. I'll blame it on some sort of seasonal affective disorder. Hurricane season, but a season nonetheless. In case you were unaware, Florida has two seasons: Hurricane and non-Hurricane. The city has been battening the hatches. The wind blows backwards here and power goes out. The day started by waking up at least an hour late, and driving behind yet another left lane loon. You know, the ones that drive 5 or 10 mph BELOW the speed limit and do so in the LEFT lane? Then I serviced a store in absolutely record time. Took a friend to a doctor appointment, and a few other associated errands. I got home and by then I really was exhausted. However, in my travels today, I was witness to a couple crash aftermaths, and one had more police and community service officers than vehicles involved in the crash. I'm glad I didn't have time to sort out that paperwork. Then there's the whole means of the hatches being battened.

Yes, those are pallets of cinderblocks parked inside the sheds.

Now out of curiosity.... what about the swings?



As I pulled into my parking spot at BJ's, I happened to catch this view in my mirror:

They're chained inside the canopy.
I didn't get the picture of the bulldozers and backhoes that were parked alongside a major highway. It was a Caterpillar parking lot so to speak.

And as I catch weather updates, it seems that the Fay is very much a Southern being. She's moving slow and strolling leisurely along her way.

I never loved the name Fay

And now she's got schools closed for a couple days. The schools that JUST opened this Monday as a matter of fact. And people thought Florida (or at least this district) was stupid for adding "weather days" to the calendar like northern districts add snow days. Well it's a good thing they're in the school calendar now. It's shaping up to be a nice dumping of rain and wind. I sat through Hurricane Fran in NC 12 years ago. I'd much prefer to avoid a similar repeat.

Status Check 2

Went to the dh's softball game, and caught the end of it. As usual, everyone congregated in the parking lot for some tailgating. I sat in the camping chair with my knitting, trying to pick up a stitch I dropped 10 rows back...HOPING and PRAYING that I wouldn't have to rip back those 10 rows, at 160 stitches apiece. Thankfully I did get that stitch picked up though. In any case the guys were bantering back and forth. I didn't hear what K said on the other side of the truck (tailgate central) but M was standing behind me and said something about "heavy flow, but sometimes light days", then B said "some with wings". So, being somewhat of an expert, I threw my two pennies. "Or super absorbency overnights" which kind of startled M. He said "whoa I didn't see you there." "Yea, I'm here." "er..Well you are pretty much one of the guys...."

hm. Being "one of the guys" isn't always a bad thing but I kind of was expecting the announcement in different fashion. Not sure being called "one of the guys" over banter about feminine hygiene products is the ideal way of being crowned.

Status Check

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Curb your enthusiasm

Yes, it's also the name of a BBC television show I used to watch when I lived at Camp LeJune. The neighbor got me hooked on it for a while. Sometimes I miss my stupid old days. But this post was not for waxing nostalgic.

Nope.

Not. At. All.

This post was to celebrate ... er.. commemorate a significant event in my family's life


Snagged rather shamelessly with permission from Rick because he's just generous like that. I'm assuming he found me because I threw my two pennies in over on Dawn's blog. I've got a boring life by comparison so I go visit her to remind myself of this fact.

I have an inner brat

And her name is Kelly. She would rather sit in front of the computer all day instead of getting up and being productive for even 15 minutes. She would rather order takeout, or run to Publix for some sushi than cook for some picky people who don't really care for "betchtables". Her sister (my daughter) likes vegetables but isn't fond of certain ones. Kelly is also inclined to leaving the others in the house to fend for their own food. She figures it's a life skill they'll need. She is a fun kid, but she gets me in trouble quite a bit. She influences me to do things I know I shouldn't do - like indulge in sloth-like behavior. Her favorite pastime is lounging, oh and knitting. She likes playing with yarn. She and I have that in common. The two of us are hell on wheels in retail venues too. I can 99.9999% of the time rein her in, which is good, because I didn't marry Warren Buffet's or Bill Gate's descendants. Nor have I won the lottery yet. I should consider actually STOPPING at a lottery retailer to play my numbers, as it does improve the odds of winning. Kelly and I have managed to strike a balance for the most part. However this Summer, she's been the dominant force and it shows. I would ask if you've seen my house, but then again, I wouldn't let you see it because it truly is mortifying right now. I still haven't put away the contents of my clone's shopping spree in TickerTots closet, and my daughter has been playing "shopping spree" in my living room with it.
Whaaaaat? Kelly didn't feel like going in there.

I'm installing a mirror by the front door

Because two days in a row, I have walked out my front door and into public


like this:


Each day had its own shirt, but I didn't think it was blog-worthy till it happened twice.

One week and counting....

Ahhhh, Summer. It of course didn't pan out like I wanted it to, but that is a given. I had an admittedly lazy summer, fraught with more sibling rivalry than I wanted to referee. My summer wasn't entirely lazy, since I did get some reorganizing done in my office area. But having kids home all summer has been also a disruption to my mojo, and I just didn't feel like being evil all the time. I don't have it in me this year. But, my prediction was fairly spot on, except for the part about men in white coats. I think the first day of school will start with a WOOHOO breakfast somewhere. Not going to call it a BooHoo breakfast because I won't be crying, and neither will my children. They're weird like that. They actually LIKE school. Mission accomplished. Make it boring enough so they actually WANT to be in a building created to instill some kind of knowledge into their crinkly little brains. Hopefully it won't take too long for my own to escape the mush its become in their presence. I want my house back to myself.

Wild animals eat their young for a reason

I have a friend, who is due any day and can't evict the baby soon enough, that asked me to make a hooded baby towel for her. It's an incredibly simple, yet large project that is taking entirely too long for my liking. However, it's using up my stash of cotton yarn that came in huge skeins. I have been toting this bag with grassy green yarn for weeks trying to finish it. Except now, I have to wait to finish it.
My son violated a cardinal house rule. Food and drinks are consumed AT the table or in the kitchen only. Instead, he sat at my desk this morning with his coffee to be closer to the TV. Somehow while I was in the shower, he spilled his coffee all over my chair, the floor under it, and IN my yarn bag that was next to the chair. What a way to make your mother curse on a Sunday morning as she's getting ready for CHURCH of all things. I tried to wash it by hand as much as possible, then left it to soak while I was at church. It's now sitting in the sun with a fan on it to dry out - not just the project, but the two skeins of yarn too.

Mothers of clumsy teenagers with coffee understand why wild animals eat their young.

Know your produce!

We went to Persnickety Ticker's house to watch her Ticker Tot for a bit while she tended some business. She came home and I expected that I would end up hanging out a while, but not ALLLLLLL day. I won't venture on that tangent today though. In hanging out and helping her declutter (which means now *I* have to declutter my house too), we ended up at 5 PM emerging from a tidier closet in Ticker Tot's room. Then I was planning on coming home and getting something accomplished and spend some time with the husband. Didn't happen because the route from her house to mine is a log-jam of sorts at 5:00. She offered to make dinner. I'm not stupid. Someone offers to feed me, I usually accept - situations involving morality and ethics are the exception. Well my daughter (the clone) eats most anything I eat. I say most because my co-spawner is picky about his food. My clone picked at her food and decided she was done eating. We once again ended up yakking after dinner and next thing I knew it was 8 PM. We left shortly after that and stopped at the Home Depot to get something I needed. We got home and got to work on the neglected household care. (::bites keys about wildebeast's work ethic::) My hungry child asked for some fruit. Well I wasn't going to lavish her with a fruit tray, but we do have some grapes in the fridge. She presents me with a tomato. The conversation followed like this:

"That's a tomato"
"Yea, it's a fruit. It's not a betchtable"

I know this already, but she indeed had a point. I couldn't argue with her. But I did make her wait till I finished typing up this post till I went to cut the tomato for her.

Grown woman giggles worse than my daughter

My friend Persnickety got a package today. The contents made her giggle worse than my daughter while being tickled. It was nonstop, complete with snorting, gasping and attempts to regain composure. It was JUST the laugh I needed after the spawn-induced stress I had this evening. Amid her inane giggling, she read me the "idiot clause" accompanying her package contents. Nope, it didn't even have an instruction manual either.

Road Rage Ramblings

As I drove to my first store this morning, someone paused at a red light long enough to decide that my van was new enough to replace their older model small pickup truck with manual transmission. It was either that or the fact that I have a mom-mobile that makes lots of drivers think that cutting in front of me is grand sport. Fine, cut in front of me but at least use the long one on the right when you do it. And for the love of Pete, if you're going to jump in front of me in a stick-shift, you really should be FAST ON THE CLUTCH! If your vehicle is too old to be fast on the clutch when you cut in front of someone then my personal suggestion, and I'm sure others will agree, would be to WAIT for the pretty red light to turn green. THEN proceed to slowly shift gears on a major thoroughfare and get up to speed. Oh how I do not miss a daily commute with the other cognitively challenged drivers in this city. I am looking for a job, but prefer to stay closer to home JUST for that reason. I'm allergic to stupidity, in all forms. The allergy is why I am avoiding call center work. People who can't figure it out, call the company, and I happen to be an idiot magnet often enough as it is. I'm smart enough to know my limits and work within them. Small workplaces close to home with people equally allergic to stupidity as I am.

Late night antics around here

Meh, it's not THAT kind of post. But as you can see, I'm feeling rather Bloggety today. I could not stand the urge for baked goods any longer. My first preference would be that box of Ho-Ho's I have hidden, but I prefer them to be consumed while they're frozen. Sadly it wasn't going to happen tonight. People were still awake and a girl's gotta keep her stash safe so those others in the house will be safe from her later. I looked around. No chocolate cake mixes, NO brownie mixes! I wasn't about to start dragging out the ingredients to do it from scratch at 10PM. I used what I had to torture my husband with the smells emanating from the kitchen. Preheated oven to 350 degrees. Yellow cake mix. Three eggs. One sploop of oil. One can of pumpkin pie mix. Blend well. Pour into the handy-dandy Pampered Chef bar pan. Bake for something resembling 30 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool.
Then the husband could stand it no longer and looked at me through the pass-through between the kitchen and my throne and gave me a look I couldn't record. A) it was too fleeting, B) I had too many pictures on my camera and hadn't uploaded them as I intended to do several hours ago. He started digging into the cake, scoffing my protests that he had to dust it with powdered sugar. He hates powdered sugar. (*Files this mental note for self later, not that it will matter since the spawn LOVE sugar in all its forms.) He did however pour himself a FULL large glass of milk to wash down the TWO large pieces of pumpkin pie cake he consumed while watching ESPN. After all, FOOTBALL season is upon us! I get to annoy my children with screaming at the TV during the games, and shush the husband's friends when they dissolve into drunken yapping twits by the middle of the second quarter.

Yea, I'm rambling. Must be time for bed.........

Trolling generates a WTF?

I was updating my blog to include some additional links, and trolled around, landing at THIS. Scroll down to the third picture of that entry. That's as far as I got before I ran back here to post the link. One can only say "WTF?"

just. EW.

Any reasonable parent worth their salt will buy toothbrushes in different colors to correspond to the different members of the household. Being worth my salt, I am no different. Kids are cesspools of germs as it is, but here in our house, we prefer to avoid direct cross contamination of each other by using our own tooth cleaning devices. My daughter got a whale shaped toothbrush and the boy got a name brand grownup version from the health fair at church a couple months ago. What she hasn't told me till today was that she wanted a big person toothbrush, not the little kid kind with kid-type shapes and sizes. (See a pattern of non-communication running rampant in my family like I see?) I surely hope you haven't recently eaten or have food before you as you read this. We returned from church, made ourselves lunch and proceeded to get on with our Sunday. My son began a mini-trial as I sat down at the computer. Somehow this particular member of the male species actually noticed something different about his stuff. He asked who used his toothbrush this morning, and proceeded to accuse his sister of the crime. I missed her guilty face as he further "proved" his evidence to be sufficient. Apparently she did in fact use his toothbrush. If you know my 13 year old, that's just *gag* EW. Just plain EW. I just finished my lunch, so you can only imagine the quease I had the moment I learned that my daughter used her brother's toothbrush. *shudder* I asked why she used his and she said "I'm tired of a baby toothbrush, I want a big kid one." All she had to do was tell me, and my next trip to the land of toothbrush sales would have been added to my million mile long list of things to do. I said, "Um, honey, that's gross."
"Well, he doesn't use it!"
(Insert brother in the next room, retorting with "ugh, YES I do")
"Yes, precisely why that is just GROSS baby. Don't use someone else's toothbrush. It's just. EW"

Trolling adventures with babies

Not sure entirely HOW I came across this other blog except I clicked links in other bloggers' posts and opened a new tab and lo and behold I have new entertainment. I love the randomness of some blogs. I find it exceptionally hilarious that it was posted on a very Catholic blog too. Who said God had no sense of humor? Oh wait, if that was you, then you obviously didn't pay attention to ... well anything. Go back under your rock after you read that blog. If you're going to act like a mushroom, at least be entertained while you're there.

Random Kid Funnies

Welcome to Florida, where bugs move into your house and decide to mooch and not pay rent. Those big gross palmetto bugs make their way in my house with regularity. The other day my daughter heard one scratching around in the corner. She said "Mom, there's a bug over here and it's making noise." "Well tell it to stop."
"I can't. I don't speak cockroach language."


*~*~*~*~*~*

My husband likes his tea Southern. For those of you unfamiliar with this characteristic, it means 3 cups of sugar to the gallon. In all honesty my husband doesn't care for three cups, two is just fine for him. I have the now discontinued Pampered Chef teabags that I use when I make my tea. It's half yankee tea, only one cup of sugar to the gallon. In any case, the Pampered Chef tea has flavors in it that Liption, Luzianne and Tetley lack. I throw in a bag of the Pampered Chef stuff when I brew my tea. I got my lunch and poured the last of my tea into the glass. My daughter asked if I had tea, to which I responded in the affirmative. She said "Daddy's tea is sweeter than yours." "Yes, but I don't want my tea to cause me to have diabetes just drinking it."
Being with him 16 years, I can see why he might need all that sugar though.