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Showing posts from December 19, 2010

Tortilla Torture

The Bean wanted to bring a plate of those pickle-ham-tortilla roll-up appetizers for our family's Christmas. So I put her in charge. Because it's important for kids to get a sense of accomplishment. And by "kid," I mean a 15-year old oh-my-goodness-in-less-than-three-years-she-will-be-considered-an-adult-and-can-legally-defend-our-country kind of child. Plus, I was at work and couldn't make the pickle-ham-tortilla roll-up things at the office in a way that made people believe it was actually part of the "and all other duties as required" clause of my contract. Of course I told her to call if she had any questions....

Bean: Mom, I can't spread the cream cheese on the tortilla. It's too hard.

Me: Put it in the microwave for fifteen seconds.

Bean: Fifty?

Me: Fifteen.

Bean: Fifty?

Me: Fifteen.

Bean: Fifty? Or Fifteen.

Me: Fif-teeeen.

Bean: Oh, I thought you said fif-teee.

Me: No. Fif-teeeeeen.

Bean: Okay. But I'm not going to stand in front o…

Hanes Revenge

If Big V has one problem I would define it as Hanes T-Shirt Addiction. As in the man had 68 plain white t-shirts that he wore. All the time. Every day. Rain or shine. You could always count on Big V in a plain, boring, white, t-shirt.

Except it wasn't the "sexy man in a white t shirt" image you're thinking about. (Or the particular image I happen to picture...)


Big V's shirts were stretched out. And kind of grayish. And covered with stains because he wore them to work. And also after work when he would eat buffalo wings and barbequed ribs and spill sauce and wipe his fingers on the bottom hem. 
Since he wore a plain, stretched out, grayish-white, stain covered t-shirt every day people assumed he only owned one. Except he didn't. He owned many. Far too many for any one normal human being.
Enter me.
Like a stealthy ninja in the middle of the night, I took every single white t-shirt I could find and got rid of them. All 68 of them. (Don't worry; he took to wea…

My Christmas List

A washing machine. That drains.
A dryer. That dries.
New tires for the car. Non-bald ones.

And for the dippy lady who works at the eye doctor's to recode the stupid medical procedure for my daughter's wonky eyeball to something other than "standard office exam" so my insurance company will actually pay the claim already.

That is all.

Well, that and also a Tiffany blue tea kettle.
 

Scaling Back Christmas

In the booming economy my kids got something like 417 gifts each for Christmas. Now we're poor and I'd rather pay for heat so I needed a way to let them know that they'd be having a scaled down Christmas without coming across like the grinch. So, I told them Jesus only got three gifts for his birth and that His birth is what created the holiday in the first place and what makes them think they're better than Jesus that they should get more gifts than he did?

They pitched a fit but only until I explained frankincense and myrrh were some sort of herb and if they didn't watch it they'd be opening up basil and dill weed come Christmas morn.