Today feels like one of those days. I slept late because the bedroom was so cool and the bed called my name. Yum. Give me not food. Give me bed.
I am feeling random, so I give you a mixology of things asunder. Here are the items and units floating around in my noggin.
- Either we need new clothes, or I need to step in as Phil's tailor. Almost every one of his comfy pants or shorts has a hole in the crotch. I'm trying to not guess why these crotch holes exist and how they have become so exacerbated.
- I've found people on Myspace and Facebook. Every once in awhile, I feel friendly enough to say, "Hey, I know you. Don't you want to remember that?" So, if you are one of the folks I found, I say the above with gusto. I've also been playing fairly childish games and brain ticklers on Facebook lately. Tickle my neurons, por favor.
- I'm pretty sure John McCain's wife is reptilian. Just sayin'.
- I've been working on Amos' 11 month letter. Let us dismiss the fact that he turned 11 months two days ago. Let's just try to ignore that I did not complete lettered months 9 or 10. Let us remind ourselves that hard times were afoot during those months. I think Amos will forgive me.
- More tornadoes touched down today in Weld County, site of yesterday's mayhem. Please keep those who live in the path of tornadoes in your heart.
- Nothing feels better than moving a leg or buttock over on the bed only to feel a cool spot on the sheets. Then, even better is to snuggle under the comforter. Ahh...
- My new babysitter is the front door. Amos goes there to stand up against the glass and stare out at the world. He grunts or says, "Huh! Huh!" at random things outside. I've discovered that buying toys is a waste of time. Every child needs a glass door they cannot open. I'm calling Fisher-Price to patent the Impenetrable Front Door of Doom toy.
- Speaking of, Amos is training to be a safe cracker. He has been attempting to open our old cabinets. If he can't succeed, he beats on the cabinet door like a frustrated monkey. It is not unlike Phil when a home project is not cooperating.
- I love kalamata olives. There is no finer olive.
- Lately, when people on bikes pass us on the bike/walk trail while we are pushing the stroller, they yell, "ON YOUR LEFT!" before they pass us. I've taken to yelling back, "ON YOUR RIGHT!" as if I will overcome them with my foot and stroller power. It passes the time.
- Speaking of, Phil has taken to passing wind or making the vapors while we walk. He quietly mutters, "On your left." We chuckle mightily. We use that phrase as part of our regular walk regime. It passes the time. It passes the vapors. It puts the lotion in the basket.
- *waits for various people to admonish me for mocking bike people, when I used to shake fists at pedestrians as I rode my bike. Point taken, but I don't care.*
I bid you good weekend. Have a great holiday!
12 beautiful people muttered something back:
If you can't pass some vapors while you're walking outside, when can it be safely done? As long as we're not walking near an open flame, I think we'll be okay. (For some reason, "okay" shows up as a misspelling, and the replacement word offered is "Tokay." That makes little sense.)
Amos does love looking out the front door. And now that we've moved the Bookcase of Death (a toy that Fisher-Price passed on), the foyer is almost a safe place for him to play.
You can spend hundreds of dollars on the coolest toys to entertain your baby, but they'll always play with the free gift or the item you didn't intend for them to play with!
We could get together on that tailoring thing. My husband's shirts give out at the armpit. Built-in air conditioning, he says....
Speaking of passing vapors. Bruce my friend Rachel's dog, walks up to me sits down and farts then walks off looking at me like I did it.
Mmmm, kalamata olives.
Mmmm, sleeeeeep.
:-)
Better to pass the vapors outdoors than in your nice cool bed.
Love the glass door toy. Someone could seriously make a mint off that.
Mrs. McCain is definitely reptilian. Or a pod person.
I'm guessing Phil doesn't wear his comfy pants when you're out for a walk. Otherwise, the hole wouldn't be in the crotch, would it? (By the way, perhaps you should buy him the pants with pre-stitched crotch holes and save Phil the trouble of wearing them down.)
Passing vapors reads as though he's contributing a wonderful, natural aroma into the atmosphere as the morning air leaves dew on blades of grass and rose petals. In other words, you described it perfectly. I'm sure it's delightful.
I am the worst at calling people out on a brief acquaintance. "Hey, I met you five years ago at the checkout line in Wal-Mart!" Their sideways glare usually confirms that I'm a loon.
Boo for tornadoes and unnatural-looking women! Maybe the arid Arizona desert has given her scaly skin. Give her a break, eh, haha.
Just wait until Amos figures out how to open the front door.
LOL... We have a sliding glass back door and Pufferfish, who is also eleven months, does the same thing! She loves to stand by the door and look out at everything and yell at it! the bad news is she also likes to do it when the glass door is open and the screen door is up... I'm afraid she's gonna fall right out onto the patio one of these days!
my friend and I went to walk at Town Lake and I had to teach her the finer points of "on your left" lets just say that a jogging stroller and double jogger side by side is not condusive to the biker. biker you may be on our left but let a gal move over before you mow her over. My friend learned that the hard way
Whoa, that anonymous commenter yesterday must've been the Brazilian supergenius. Because that comment was sheer brilliance.
Saree, did you win the SanFran thingy? I'm dying to know.
That wasn't yesterday. That was Saturday. I've lost a day! Oh no.
See, Chuck E Cheese will blow your mind.
I know I have invited you to The Biggest Brain challenge on Facebook. Are you playing without me?
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