All the recent cleaning and hacking and expulsion of mold particles caught up with me yesterday when I woke up so I decided to take the day off work and proceeded to do absolutely nothing.
I felt better pretty much within the morning but, gee, I seemed to have misplaced my pants and car keys. What really is one to do? So I catch up with a few important details like perusing blogs, eating hard boiled eggs and watching Dancing Spiderman (and friends!). Everyone should watch Dancing Spiderman. Go ahead I'll wait.
I got to greet monkeys when the bus came home, my dad and step-mom came over for while and then the boyfriend brought dinner over.
Later, we went to Target to purchase a cast-iron dutch oven that only Target carries (on sale!). I had one to offer him, but since this particular model was highly recommended by America's Test Kitchen it's the only one he'd bother with. Kitchen items are his toys. Not surprisingly, everything he has cooked has always hit the right notes and I am surprised I'm not more chunky. Maybe since I get to carry heavy things like dutch ovens. I must also remember this if I ever need to knock someone out from above. You never know.
I intended to end the evening early but my bedroom was still waiting for aid from FEMA. So, I stayed up until the wee morning hours reclaiming my territory and I'm having feelings that the end of the mess is nigh! Either that or I'm having gas.
Unfortunately, I may have cleaned too well as I still can't find my car keys.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Beyond Pottydome
Even though the Younger Monkey has been out of diapers for quite some time now, that doesn't mean there is a lack of potty adventures at hand. Grandma reports that yesterday for example, they both had to go No. 2 at the last minute and at the same time on the same toilet. We'll just say, two men enter, one man leaves.
Remember Shimajiro, the potty training tiger? He's back to show us how to use a public toilet in Japan!
(Also, this further affirms my theory that what is safe for Asian children may or may not be safe for work. Or the unchiphobic.)
via JapanSugoi
Remember Shimajiro, the potty training tiger? He's back to show us how to use a public toilet in Japan!
(Also, this further affirms my theory that what is safe for Asian children may or may not be safe for work. Or the unchiphobic.)
via JapanSugoi
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
If You Play Halo You're Probably Not Reading This
Often I am numb to the level of geekery that permeates my daily life. It did not strike me as odd, for instance, when all the work was mysteriously done and most of the company left early for the day. To go home and play Halo 3.
Except for me. Instead I went to the boyfriend's home and had baked beans on toast for dinner. Priorities, people.
Except for me. Instead I went to the boyfriend's home and had baked beans on toast for dinner. Priorities, people.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Mr. Clean Is Coming To Town
It wouldn't have mattered how today went at work and it would still have been a good day since upon my arrival I had forgotten that I cleaned my desk off Friday before I left. It was a glorious sight. Coming home however was another matter as I'm still shredding my life away. I am being diligent though and the end is within my grubby grasp.
I spent yesterday wondering if I was having mere allergies or if i was getting sick. I had played tonsil hockey with a certain someone that morning and he was having all kinds of guilt about giving me a cold. I s'pose those are the risks when you haven't made out with your sweetie for a week. To set his mind at ease, I can now confirm it is something in this particular bin of paper I'm going through. Some kind of long dormant spores have been flung into the ether as I was fine all day and now my eyes burn. They buuuuuuuurn.
I can hear mom laughing at me when I start my bathroom monologue about why we as humans have so much mucus. Just where does it all come from and why must I swim in it? It was flinging everywhere like a frog's tongue catching flies. Her amusement at my trials is not an unusual occurrence. I might be doing it more on purpose now since it cheers her up.
In true form, this being the last batch of papers (I hope, I pray) I finally found my social security card at the bottom. People scoff when I don't simply dump everything in a monstrous purge and start over but it's for these items I know I can't do that. I originally went to go get a new one for the Target job but after waiting three hours in the social security office I simply had to leave. It was a scary place and I must be sure never to lose it for good.
By the way, I'm still waffling on the Cub Scouts. Elder Monkey most certainly wants to do it and I may just be worrying too much about the whole thing. He really does need something like this.
I spent yesterday wondering if I was having mere allergies or if i was getting sick. I had played tonsil hockey with a certain someone that morning and he was having all kinds of guilt about giving me a cold. I s'pose those are the risks when you haven't made out with your sweetie for a week. To set his mind at ease, I can now confirm it is something in this particular bin of paper I'm going through. Some kind of long dormant spores have been flung into the ether as I was fine all day and now my eyes burn. They buuuuuuuurn.
I can hear mom laughing at me when I start my bathroom monologue about why we as humans have so much mucus. Just where does it all come from and why must I swim in it? It was flinging everywhere like a frog's tongue catching flies. Her amusement at my trials is not an unusual occurrence. I might be doing it more on purpose now since it cheers her up.
In true form, this being the last batch of papers (I hope, I pray) I finally found my social security card at the bottom. People scoff when I don't simply dump everything in a monstrous purge and start over but it's for these items I know I can't do that. I originally went to go get a new one for the Target job but after waiting three hours in the social security office I simply had to leave. It was a scary place and I must be sure never to lose it for good.
By the way, I'm still waffling on the Cub Scouts. Elder Monkey most certainly wants to do it and I may just be worrying too much about the whole thing. He really does need something like this.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Don't Touch the Precious Things
Since I am also known as Mom's Taxi Service she is pretty much housebound all week when I am not around. So I try to find things that need done to be sure she gets out on weekends.
It hasn't been a problem lately as she's been downsizing her items as well. The weekends have been filled with several trips to the Goodwill, trading in DVDs, donating to the library. Today was all about finding a new refrigerator that won't randomly freeze the lettuce overnight and to search for new pants. I have no idea if these things are related.
We found a prospective fridge at Hardware Uberstore but it seems to be too tall for my kitchen. We also learned that the bathroom aisle is a replica of the foreboding set from "When Toilets Attack!", a heartfelt musical/slasher film with singing toilets interspersed with shrieks of terror.
Being the Local People that we are we continued onto the Local Outlet Shop that trains the cashiers to say things like "Oh, Fiddle Faddle!" over the loudspeaker while searching for return slips.
Mom is, like myself, somewhat of an anti-fashionista. Buying clothing is one of the things I put at the bottom of my priority list, right next to immunizing hippos for herpes. Putting aside the probable candidacy for What Not To Wear, she has lost so much weight her already baggy clothes have started to swallow her whole. New pants of some sort are in order.
While she tried on the one pair that were neither floral explosion nor plus sized (this is Florida after all) I occupied myself with the wall of VHS for sale located in the Petite section. If I am ever in need of any movie sequel on VHS I will know where to go. The Sandlot 2. Critters 3. House Party 2, 3, and 4!
Also sandwiched in the midst of Steven Seagal and Barber Shop 2 was Trick. I was most amused by visions of any one of the meandering blue-haired clientele picking this up at discount savings for a fun afternoon with Coco Peru. You remember, this movie with Neve's brother and Tori Spelling? I've always wanted to try playing the piano with a partner ever since.
Then, while waiting for mom to figure out her newly acquired debit card to purchase her new pair of pants and two books of sudoku, all for under ten dollars, I realized I might very well be "The One".
No offense but if your last name happens to be Smith please don't call. I've moved.
It hasn't been a problem lately as she's been downsizing her items as well. The weekends have been filled with several trips to the Goodwill, trading in DVDs, donating to the library. Today was all about finding a new refrigerator that won't randomly freeze the lettuce overnight and to search for new pants. I have no idea if these things are related.
We found a prospective fridge at Hardware Uberstore but it seems to be too tall for my kitchen. We also learned that the bathroom aisle is a replica of the foreboding set from "When Toilets Attack!", a heartfelt musical/slasher film with singing toilets interspersed with shrieks of terror.
Being the Local People that we are we continued onto the Local Outlet Shop that trains the cashiers to say things like "Oh, Fiddle Faddle!" over the loudspeaker while searching for return slips.
Mom is, like myself, somewhat of an anti-fashionista. Buying clothing is one of the things I put at the bottom of my priority list, right next to immunizing hippos for herpes. Putting aside the probable candidacy for What Not To Wear, she has lost so much weight her already baggy clothes have started to swallow her whole. New pants of some sort are in order.
While she tried on the one pair that were neither floral explosion nor plus sized (this is Florida after all) I occupied myself with the wall of VHS for sale located in the Petite section. If I am ever in need of any movie sequel on VHS I will know where to go. The Sandlot 2. Critters 3. House Party 2, 3, and 4!
Also sandwiched in the midst of Steven Seagal and Barber Shop 2 was Trick. I was most amused by visions of any one of the meandering blue-haired clientele picking this up at discount savings for a fun afternoon with Coco Peru. You remember, this movie with Neve's brother and Tori Spelling? I've always wanted to try playing the piano with a partner ever since.
Then, while waiting for mom to figure out her newly acquired debit card to purchase her new pair of pants and two books of sudoku, all for under ten dollars, I realized I might very well be "The One".
No offense but if your last name happens to be Smith please don't call. I've moved.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Saturday Is The New Friday
Saturdays are now the weekly sleepover night instead of Friday. Today was filled with rain and more rain, effectively stifling any plans for yardwork and go to outside with monkeys. After venturing forth to the store for rations, and an explanation about the wonders of kohlrabi and shallots, monkeys came with me to the morgue storage unit.
When mom moved in, my plan of course was to go through all lurking items and have the house tip-top beforehand. But those plans never work. If I had a fulltime construction crew and a TV show, possibly. Someone get on that for me. Anyways, to make space for her I shoveled everything into mile high totes and boxes banishing them to cold storage. Since then I've been extracting a few at a time and shredding, shredding, shredding. Because it's all paper. Thirty years worth. And it's been breeding.
So, I kinda promised if Elder Monkey was good we'd break out the newly excavated SNES and N64. I had found the systems earlier this week and he's been eyeing them over my bed, but the games were nowhere to be found. So we went treasure hunting in the depths of the storage unit. The box was located at last, on the farthest wall to the back at the bottom under the dead sea scrolls, guarded by a pack of wild, rabid stuffed animals. They demanded a sacrifice and so I said rest assured my sinuses would be paying the price later.
For some reason I decided to truck a lot of it back and needless to say, I should be in asleep at the moment but I can't seem to find the bed again. Soon. Maybe next year.
When mom moved in, my plan of course was to go through all lurking items and have the house tip-top beforehand. But those plans never work. If I had a fulltime construction crew and a TV show, possibly. Someone get on that for me. Anyways, to make space for her I shoveled everything into mile high totes and boxes banishing them to cold storage. Since then I've been extracting a few at a time and shredding, shredding, shredding. Because it's all paper. Thirty years worth. And it's been breeding.
So, I kinda promised if Elder Monkey was good we'd break out the newly excavated SNES and N64. I had found the systems earlier this week and he's been eyeing them over my bed, but the games were nowhere to be found. So we went treasure hunting in the depths of the storage unit. The box was located at last, on the farthest wall to the back at the bottom under the dead sea scrolls, guarded by a pack of wild, rabid stuffed animals. They demanded a sacrifice and so I said rest assured my sinuses would be paying the price later.
For some reason I decided to truck a lot of it back and needless to say, I should be in asleep at the moment but I can't seem to find the bed again. Soon. Maybe next year.
Increase Your Word Power In 28 Days
Homework for Elder Monkey has been good overall this year with the exception of two weeks ago Monday, when his cranium literally exploded and all sorts of screaming hatred blew out his ears.
I've heard some people say that words at their root are just words and should not hold power. I have a seven year old you might want to talk to.
It was the apocalypse of meltdowns. He hated homework. He hated Younger Monkey. He hated that Younger Monkey did not have homework. He hated his mom. More telling though, he hated living with them.
He did not, however, hate me. I was seemingly in his eyes, his only ally. Which probably quickly turned when I took away privileges upon hearing of all the spewing disrespect to his mom. However, I could smell something was festering and he wasn't ready to give it up. This was stewing rather than spewing.
Somewhere in the parenting manual there is a chapter still being written detailing maneuvers on how to speak to adults-in-training. I hardly ever have the right words to say. I stumble over them most of the time and I'm never sure which combination of words are scathing and which are healing.
Yesterday, one of his spelling words was "married". To the Elder Monkey, this word made his eyes burn. Tears began to streak his face and as they rolled out came words of his own.
It's not that he wants to just live with me, but all of us together. It's mom's fault completely that we aren't married anymore.
At this point we break out the words that are antidotes, the ones that soothe, the ones that try to break the resolve of a chaotic unfair life. But we still aren't sure of their effectiveness.
While I have the belief that our situation is probably as good as it can be, the verbal sucker punches along that path still know where it hurts the most.
I've heard some people say that words at their root are just words and should not hold power. I have a seven year old you might want to talk to.
It was the apocalypse of meltdowns. He hated homework. He hated Younger Monkey. He hated that Younger Monkey did not have homework. He hated his mom. More telling though, he hated living with them.
He did not, however, hate me. I was seemingly in his eyes, his only ally. Which probably quickly turned when I took away privileges upon hearing of all the spewing disrespect to his mom. However, I could smell something was festering and he wasn't ready to give it up. This was stewing rather than spewing.
Somewhere in the parenting manual there is a chapter still being written detailing maneuvers on how to speak to adults-in-training. I hardly ever have the right words to say. I stumble over them most of the time and I'm never sure which combination of words are scathing and which are healing.
Yesterday, one of his spelling words was "married". To the Elder Monkey, this word made his eyes burn. Tears began to streak his face and as they rolled out came words of his own.
It's not that he wants to just live with me, but all of us together. It's mom's fault completely that we aren't married anymore.
At this point we break out the words that are antidotes, the ones that soothe, the ones that try to break the resolve of a chaotic unfair life. But we still aren't sure of their effectiveness.
While I have the belief that our situation is probably as good as it can be, the verbal sucker punches along that path still know where it hurts the most.
Friday, September 21, 2007
So You Wanna Be A Cub Scout?
I know one person who does at least.
Elder Monkey loves his little brother, but he gets annoyed with him so much more frequently than he used to. So I find it perfectly logical that he should want to seek out another social circle with other kids that won't turn him into a pretzel with their telekinesis.
As I was never inclined as a child to do things like go outside (ew!) and all that brotherly bonding stuff, I'll readily admit I'm not the best when it comes to encouraging such activities.
But that's me and not him. So we went to see what all it entails last night.
On the plus Cub Scouts is a different beast than Boy Scouts where parental involvement seems much more integral, which I'm all for. It would certainly get him out of the house, whereas I throw them outside now only after I've hacked at the lawn every six months or so. Elder Monkey seemed especially keen on the whole prospect of the Pinewood Derby.
Oh, and archery. His only questionto the scout leader was whether they'd get to do archery. He was all over that. Which given his propensity for shooting blunt objects, I suppose the least he could do is learn to aim. Famous last words.
I am also not so thrilled for various reasons that are probably just paranoia. It reminds me of what it was like going to church. Not the least of which is how much I kept reading about an emphasis on "duty to God" throughout the literature. Also that it strangely feels like am signing him up for the mini-military.
Are there any former Cub Scouts out there that can share their experience?
Elder Monkey loves his little brother, but he gets annoyed with him so much more frequently than he used to. So I find it perfectly logical that he should want to seek out another social circle with other kids that won't turn him into a pretzel with their telekinesis.
As I was never inclined as a child to do things like go outside (ew!) and all that brotherly bonding stuff, I'll readily admit I'm not the best when it comes to encouraging such activities.
But that's me and not him. So we went to see what all it entails last night.
On the plus Cub Scouts is a different beast than Boy Scouts where parental involvement seems much more integral, which I'm all for. It would certainly get him out of the house, whereas I throw them outside now only after I've hacked at the lawn every six months or so. Elder Monkey seemed especially keen on the whole prospect of the Pinewood Derby.
Oh, and archery. His only questionto the scout leader was whether they'd get to do archery. He was all over that. Which given his propensity for shooting blunt objects, I suppose the least he could do is learn to aim. Famous last words.
I am also not so thrilled for various reasons that are probably just paranoia. It reminds me of what it was like going to church. Not the least of which is how much I kept reading about an emphasis on "duty to God" throughout the literature. Also that it strangely feels like am signing him up for the mini-military.
Are there any former Cub Scouts out there that can share their experience?
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
It's No Wonder I Don't Know What's For Dinner
While taking this quiz (via Hiding in the Backwaters), I needed a tie-breaker question to give me an answer:
Which is most true?
1. All that exists is matter and energy.
2. There is a spiritual side to being human.
I'm having the hardest time leaning towards one or the other, since I don't think they are mutually exclusive. Why can't these things be connected?
If I go with No.1 I get:
You scored as Materialist
Materialism stresses the essence of fundamental particles. Everything that exists is purely physical matter and there is no special force that holds life together. You believe that anything can be explained by breaking it up into its pieces. i.e. the big picture can be understood by its smaller elements.
Materialist - 81%
Cultural Creative - 81%
Modernist - 63%
Postmodernist- 56%
Existentialist - 50%
Idealist - 31%
Romanticist - 25%<
Fundamentalist - 19%
What is Your World View?
created with QuizFarm.com
If I go with No. 2 I get:
You scored as Cultural Creative
Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational.
Cultural Creative - 81%
Materialist - 81%
Modernist - 63%
Postmodernist- 56%
Existentialist - 50%
Idealist - 31%
Romanticist - 25%<
Fundamentalist - 19%
What is Your World View?
created with QuizFarm.com
I ponder onward.
Which is most true?
1. All that exists is matter and energy.
2. There is a spiritual side to being human.
I'm having the hardest time leaning towards one or the other, since I don't think they are mutually exclusive. Why can't these things be connected?
If I go with No.1 I get:
You scored as Materialist
Materialism stresses the essence of fundamental particles. Everything that exists is purely physical matter and there is no special force that holds life together. You believe that anything can be explained by breaking it up into its pieces. i.e. the big picture can be understood by its smaller elements.
Materialist - 81%
Cultural Creative - 81%
Modernist - 63%
Postmodernist- 56%
Existentialist - 50%
Idealist - 31%
Romanticist - 25%<
Fundamentalist - 19%
What is Your World View?
created with QuizFarm.com
If I go with No. 2 I get:
You scored as Cultural Creative
Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational.
Cultural Creative - 81%
Materialist - 81%
Modernist - 63%
Postmodernist- 56%
Existentialist - 50%
Idealist - 31%
Romanticist - 25%<
Fundamentalist - 19%
What is Your World View?
created with QuizFarm.com
I ponder onward.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Boys and Their Toys
I'm going to be rather blunt, a skill I've honestly only learned by rearing offspring. I often think without them I'd be some hermit in an underground lair, polishing the precious things.
Elder Monkey calls me up from school this afternoon with ten minutes left to go until the bus whisks them home in order to tell me about his man business. His actual man business.
"Daddy, my penis hurts. And there is some white stuff. No I can't ride the bus. It hurts!"
I feel bad of course, but being an hour away, I tell him to tough it out. Since I am the resident parental unit with the similar equipment, Daddy gets to deal with explanations of this sort. I'm totally not ready for this yet but at least it's something I know about.
This is fine with Mommy, who was unavailable for comment, as she is getting super embarrassed with all the naked flaunting of boy parts as of late. Modesty doesn't seem to be as highly understood a commodity as I had embraced it in my youth.
Seeing no end to the pain, off Elder monkey goes to the doctor with Mom. Younger Monkey of course accompanied them and gave his usual rambling and strangely related commentary track. Since he is a master at the bluntmanship, a transcript follows, translated into the langauge most appropriate for this conversation:
Oh hai ther, I'm [yunger munky], You R Dr. Jumba(?). Nice to meetya. *handshake*
I went to skool on da bus iwth my harness and went to Mz. Teechr's class. Then I ate da lunch. I had chipsss. And a penutbuder sammich.
U can do me a favor. My butt. U can looks at it plz? A fart came out of it. K Thnx.
Elder Monkey calls me up from school this afternoon with ten minutes left to go until the bus whisks them home in order to tell me about his man business. His actual man business.
"Daddy, my penis hurts. And there is some white stuff. No I can't ride the bus. It hurts!"
I feel bad of course, but being an hour away, I tell him to tough it out. Since I am the resident parental unit with the similar equipment, Daddy gets to deal with explanations of this sort. I'm totally not ready for this yet but at least it's something I know about.
This is fine with Mommy, who was unavailable for comment, as she is getting super embarrassed with all the naked flaunting of boy parts as of late. Modesty doesn't seem to be as highly understood a commodity as I had embraced it in my youth.
Seeing no end to the pain, off Elder monkey goes to the doctor with Mom. Younger Monkey of course accompanied them and gave his usual rambling and strangely related commentary track. Since he is a master at the bluntmanship, a transcript follows, translated into the langauge most appropriate for this conversation:
Oh hai ther, I'm [yunger munky], You R Dr. Jumba(?). Nice to meetya. *handshake*
I went to skool on da bus iwth my harness and went to Mz. Teechr's class. Then I ate da lunch. I had chipsss. And a penutbuder sammich.
U can do me a favor. My butt. U can looks at it plz? A fart came out of it. K Thnx.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
12 of 12 ~ Sept. '07 Edition
I totally remembered what day it was today. Go me.
Meaning, the twelfth day of the month means twelve photos for you.
01. Clickety clickety clack go the keys in the morning email.
02. John has returned from Japan with treasures and stories galore.
03. Please Do Not Touch. That means you.
04. I'd wondered where my shadow wandered off to.
05. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
06. Mac+Cheese Dinner v2.0 (Lunch Edition).
07. Shhhhhhhh! Now recording...
08. Green Orange. Patience, my sweet.
09. Scheherazade is the only soundtrack to the sunset.
10. Stocking the monkey cupboards: Bananas. Bread. Peanut Butter.
11. A wind whistles a lonely tune through the empty Box. I think I saw a tumbleweed pass by.
12. In the end, two silly women Jenga it out on the television.
See whole bunch more and get in on the game at Chad Darnell's ongoing 12 of 12 project.
Meaning, the twelfth day of the month means twelve photos for you.
01. Clickety clickety clack go the keys in the morning email.
02. John has returned from Japan with treasures and stories galore.
03. Please Do Not Touch. That means you.
04. I'd wondered where my shadow wandered off to.
05. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
06. Mac+Cheese Dinner v2.0 (Lunch Edition).
07. Shhhhhhhh! Now recording...
08. Green Orange. Patience, my sweet.
09. Scheherazade is the only soundtrack to the sunset.
10. Stocking the monkey cupboards: Bananas. Bread. Peanut Butter.
11. A wind whistles a lonely tune through the empty Box. I think I saw a tumbleweed pass by.
12. In the end, two silly women Jenga it out on the television.
See whole bunch more and get in on the game at Chad Darnell's ongoing 12 of 12 project.
Monday, September 03, 2007
I've been trying to write about my day, everyday, each after the next, but it's hard to concentrate when my house is moaning at me like a beached whale. Plus before I can even get to the keyboard, I pass out in the smallish space left on my bed that is not occupied with...stuff. Mostly in numerous piles full of tiny bits that's hard to micromanage.
Double plus my computer has been completely taken over by cannibals, androids and virgin entrails.
I'm totally not kidding about this and it's totally not my fault.
I could tell you about the dream I had last night where my neighbors houses on either side of me vanished when I woke up in the morning. No grass or trash or evidence of any previous life, just paved concrete slabs. For some reason one was my dead grandparents house and I went an a rampage trying to dig though the chasm underneath the concrete to find everything stacked in a moist stinky pile. Then I decided to go to back to Canada to cohabitate with all the rainbow colored moose.
That might have just been the drool in my sleep talking though.
I can also tell you that the birthday crazy train has finally come to a screeching halt now that August is done with and everyone has stopped becoming older for now. Praise Jeebus.
So the days have been good, bad and inbetween. It promises to be the start of a jumpy week so maybe you'll hear about it, maybe not.
In the meantime, here's how my sister, as most native Floridians do, co-habitates with insects.
Double plus my computer has been completely taken over by cannibals, androids and virgin entrails.
I'm totally not kidding about this and it's totally not my fault.
I could tell you about the dream I had last night where my neighbors houses on either side of me vanished when I woke up in the morning. No grass or trash or evidence of any previous life, just paved concrete slabs. For some reason one was my dead grandparents house and I went an a rampage trying to dig though the chasm underneath the concrete to find everything stacked in a moist stinky pile. Then I decided to go to back to Canada to cohabitate with all the rainbow colored moose.
That might have just been the drool in my sleep talking though.
I can also tell you that the birthday crazy train has finally come to a screeching halt now that August is done with and everyone has stopped becoming older for now. Praise Jeebus.
So the days have been good, bad and inbetween. It promises to be the start of a jumpy week so maybe you'll hear about it, maybe not.
In the meantime, here's how my sister, as most native Floridians do, co-habitates with insects.
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