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Showing posts from July 31, 2011

It truly is the thought that counts...

Since it was my Dad's birthday I needed to get him a gift. He's kind of this meticulous gardener guy; the kind where you're not allowed to step on the grass or pick any one of the three billion-trillion flowers blooming around his property, but he can leave an empty can of beer tossed casually towards the shrubbery. This tells me that he doesn't mind aluminum, which is a metal, which means he would totally love a giant metal chicken.

But ever since The Bloggess opened the world to metal animal yard art chickens have been popping up everywhere. And it's almost like Swatch Watches, where they were cool because no one had any and then suddenly everyone did and before you knew it you were showing off your new Swatch and the cool kids were turning up their noses saying those were so last week. So, I needed something better than a giant chicken. And since my dad is from Australia..... you see where this is going, right? .... It only made sense to get him a 6' metal k…

Nothing says I Love You more than a Goose with an identity crisis and a rabid Joey.





Today is my dad's birthday.
He is 67 years old.
Well, 67 according to what my mom told me this morning when I asked because, honestly, I had no idea how old he was. When someone mentions my dad I picture him walking around the back yard in flip flops and a pair of shorts, bending over to pick up a stick and then using that same stick to point up into the apple trees and bitch about the tent worms.
Yes, tent worms.
A huge nest of worms stuck together in a silk-like web that resembles a hornet's nest that my dad would systematically burn down with homemade torches. Nest after nest. Tree after tree.


And if you ever saw thousands of worms dropping from the sky after being burned to death by some angry Australian then you probably have the same aversion to apple trees that I do. Hey, let's go pick apples in a huge orchard where we could potentially getting buried alive by falling worms! I think I'll pass.
In my mind, my dad is still the dad I had when I was six, watchi…

'Til Death Do Us Part: 1,000 Ways To Make It Happen.

I have a new rule called No More Criminal Minds at Bedtime. I used to like that show but then it got incredibly freaky and now I know 68 more ways a person could be tortured than I did before (and I knew a lot from before because I used to watch CSI and Law & Order) and that just doesn't make for sweet dreams, you know?

Big V knows I have nightmares but he doesn't care because now he suddenly has a new favorite show called I Am Slowly Driving My Partner Insane By Scaring Her To Death. Actually, it's not called that. But it should be.

I'm talking about the Spike TV show called 1000 Ways to Die.

Big V knows how, uh, high strung and anxious I tend to be when it comes to safety. I am only all too aware of those things that are incredibly unsafe and shouldn't be attempted. Like risking your life by eating at an IKEA buffet. No one knows how long those meatballs have been sitting there. Can you say Salmonella? Botulism? E.Coli? I think I made my point.

Anyway, last…

Shark Week. You know, Again.

It's Shark Week. Again. (Is it just me, or are there an awful lot of shark weeks?)

This means our office scapegoose better watch his back.

So, WILL an M&M melt in your nose?

This weekend was one of the busiest social dates of the summer. The options seemed endless: a lobster boil, a fireman's dance, and a little something called Moos & Blues which you just have to experience to believe. (Small town farmers hosting one of the biggest events of the season: pig roast, live music and an unbelievable fireworks display that ranks up there with the best of 'em.) However, I was home with Dotter (9) and Cletus (1.5) and two extra kids (aged 3 and 1).

Big V, being the stellar support system that he is, bailed on me to attend an obligatory graduation party.

So it was me (clearly outnumbered) who stayed with the children for the day.

And it was a very long day.

Eight hours later I had managed to put two of the kids to bed and the other was quietly watching a movie. (Dotter had locked herself in my bedroom hours earlier to get away from everyone. Meaning me. Because I kept asking her to help bring me a diaper. Help fill up that sippy cup. Help take that…