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Showing posts from November 6, 2011

oooo.... you're in TROUBLE!

Tonight is Date Night. The one in which we go to the theatre to watch a musical about deer camp. Except I want to trade in my date. Because right now Big V is irritating me in a major way. Like, in an I'm about to spear your eyeball with this fork if you even utter one more word kind of way.

It started last night when I entered our home after a long day at the office only to find several able-bodied people plopped in various comfortable positions around my living room. They called it relaxing.

The Bean had a long day at school (that ended at 2:30pm).
Dotter had a long day at her school (that ended at 3:00pm).
And Big V had a long day at work (that ended at 4:00pm).

I walked in from my long day at the office at 6:00pm.

All three turned their pathetic heads towards my direction and one of them - the biggest one, also referred to as the Role Model, actually voiced the words out loud - so that I could hear them: what are you making for dinner?

Well, that pretty much sealed his fat…

Veterans Day

The following words aren't mine. In fact, they've been around so long people may have read it a time or two before, but on this great day I suspect it bears honor to read it again. I wish I knew who wrote it but I think he or she would rather each and every one of us personally thank a veteran for their service rather thank them for writing these words.



Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a Jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.
Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, A piece of shrapnel in the leg or perhaps another sort of inner steel: The soul's ally forged in the refinery of adversity.

Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe Wear no badge or emblem. You can't tell a vet just by looking.

What is a vet?



He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.

He is …

Frank Breneisen Pottery

There is a potter located in a quaint little village by the lake.

His name is Frank Breneisen.

I am in love with his pottery. 

He also travels to faraway lands.

All by himself, carrying only a single backpack.

And he sketches what he sees in journals.

He is nothing short of amazing. 

Planning for the Future

I just realized if I go blind I'm totally screwed because I don't trust dogs. Or monkeys. And there just aren't a whole lot of helpful seeing eye cats available. I once heard about someone using a miniature pony to help them get around but we all know how I feel about horse teeth. That is so not happening.

I'd rather go deaf. Mostly because I am experienced at exaggerated facial expressions which makes me confident that I could still get my various points across. Also, my primary form of communication happens to be Facebook and ridiculously lengthy text messages so that wouldn't change a bit. And everyone knows I don't talk to people out in public because I'm freakishly convinced of Stranger Danger to the they're-going-to-duct-tape-me-and-hide-me-in-the-trunk-of-their-car degree.

Not to mention, with the amount of whining and complaining that goes on in my house, a little bit of peace and quiet would be well deserved. But that got me thinking:

If I do…

Darn you, Manwich, for not speaking to the masses!

I left Big V alone with the children.

Which meant the house was clean, the pantry was stocked, the toddler had just drifted off to sleep, the teenager was taking her 4th nap of the day and the 10-year old was in the car heading out with me.

All he needed to do was sit on the couch and ensure the safe escape of two children should the house spontaneously burst into flames.

And also he needed to make dinner.

"The frying pan is already on the stove," I said, pointing to the pan sitting on the stove.

"The can of Manwich is already next to the stove on the counter," I continued, pointing to the can of Manwich sitting on the counter next to the stove.

"As are the buns." I pointed to the buns.

"All you need to do is get the hamburger out of the fridge and fry it in the pan. Then, drain the grease. Put the Manwich in. Heat it up for a few minutes and it'll be ready to eat."

Big V looked at the stove. "So, I just fry the hamburger? Drain the gre…