I'm on a plane right now. Well, not when I wrote this. But when it's set to publish, I'm in the sky. My foot still hurts. I've decided to really concentrate on keeping it out of my mouth. I'm probably chewing on some ice right now, just to make sure I don't slip up. While I'm en route, have a peek at what a great weekend I'm gonna have! Me: You are being such a dork. Me: Won't give me a straight answer. Me: REFUSING to just say "Yes, that would be lovely if you treated once, I AM SURE IT WON'T CAUSE MY NUTS TO FALL OFF OR ANYTHING" Him: I will allow you to pay on Saturday. and it will make...
"Okay! Let's all sit down and eat! This is great. I love this. So. Let's talk about our days. What happened today that was exciting? Hello? Anyone? Alright, I know; let's see. I went to work for ten hours, and Monkey peed in his pants. Wow, that's exciting!" *crickets chirp* "That's not exciting, Mama. Can I have another roll?"
The thing about hating everyone and everything is that it requires a lot of energy. I'm not saying I'm not up to the task, you understand; but it's pretty hard to sustain, even for me. I have to stop and rest every so often. It's just common sense. So today, despite my best efforts to continue being a tremendous harpy towards those around me, I cheered up. Damn. But it wasn't my fault. I'm only human. You don't believe me? Let me count the ways. 1) We slept in this morning. All three of us. I didn't know which of us--if any, or all--were going to turn up sick, so I figured why get up early...
I received one of those fake eBay scam mails today. I was urged to update my account, but cautioned "Never share your eBay password to anyone!" Dang... I was this close to succumbing to their nefarious plan. But I never give my credit card information to people for whom English is a second language, because I'm an elitist American snob. Then I was reading along... somewhere... today (I can't even remember where, but it doesn't really matter), and a poster commented that they would skip any posts where the language wasn't perfect, because they're "really a stickler for proper grammer." (sic)...
... to correctly select either horror or amusement. * An email arrived, addressed to a handful of people, saying that THIS IS BROKEN AND NEEDS TO BE ADDRESSED RIGHT NOW. Ah, the satisfaction of being able to mail back within 10 minutes "All fixed." And it didn't hurt to receive back, "Hey, we may just have to keep you around here after all!" * After correctly reciting her phone number, address, and birthday, and spelling all of our names, and generally responding to this barrage of questions with grace and prodigy aplomb, imagine the look on my face when the doctor said, "Now, Chickadee, do...
I fought the cold, and the cold won. *hack* *cough* *snort* We're playing hooky from church. The children are thrilled (a little too thrilled, if you ask me). But I started losing my voice yesterday, and this morning as children circled my bed like wild animals, I pushed up on one elbow to tell them to get out. In my mind, I said, "Guys, go downstairs and give me a minute to get up!" In reality, I said, "G... g... d... ... .i.. ee.. a... *hackhack*" That pretty much answered the question of whether I would be making it to choir. So we're home, and the children are running amock in their...
"Look out! My pants are blasting off!" Thankfully, no one was hurt. But I tell you... motherhood is much more dangerous than I'd once imagined. Blasting pants? That was not in any of the "What to Expect..." books. *** This morning it was 50 degrees and raining. The temperature plummetted rapidly and by this afternoon we were in the midst of a sleet/ice/snowstorm. I was at work by 7:40 or so, with two problems. First, I had a package that I needed to take to the post office. Second, I needed to get to the store for some staples like bread and milk. The weather was getting worse by the minute,...
The television is possessed Is it me, or is American Idol on about five nights a week, now? I mean, heck, I understand that this is important stuff, what with the critical shortage of pop stars we are currently experiencing here in America.... And golly, isn't it just edge-of-your-seat unpredictable? I mean, WOW. *young beautiful person sings a song* *audience hoots and hollers and claps* Randy: What up, dawg? You brought it tonight, dawg. Mad props. Paula: You're adorable, I want to eat you with a spoon. Lovely. Fabulous. I want to have your babies. Simon: Yeah, um, you suck. Maybe you...
If you were here right now, you would behold before you a woman transformed. A woman languid and tousled and warm and blissful and flushed with the ultimate ecstasy. That's right. This very moment? I am still basking in the afterglow of nine uninterrupted hours of sleep. Ohhhh, baby. And my wondrous children? Bless their little hearts. Other than a tell-tale trail of pop-tart crumbs (which--come on--is a small price to pay), you can't even tell they were up. Ahhhhhh. Anyway, as my week progressed I realized that I was developing some sort of weird repetitive stress injury in my elbow. So...
