Woof.

Dorkfish and I have had this running battle, argument, standoff about certain 'duties' around the house. I don't mind doing manly chores such as taking out the trash, fixing toilet leaks or mowing the grass. I typically do most of the cooking and I don't argue about cleaning up the mess after. But there are some things that I feel he can handle on his own. These include, but are not limited to, ironing his own clothes and packing his lunch. I typically provide enough dinner so he will have some for lunch the next day and see no reason he can't throw that in a bag himself. I have been chastised by my grandmother for not doing these things, but honestly, this isn't the 60's people. We are (or should be) equals in this house.

So when I spoke to one of his coworkers the other day and found out he had made a smartass comment about packing his own lunch, well, let's say I got creative. Apparently, she asked him what he was doing for lunch and he told her that he had to go to the cafeteria since his lovely wife hadn't packed his and then told her, "It's like having a dog and barking yourself." For those of you who don't speak 'smartass' that means I don't do my job...

Naturally, this makes me realize I need to step up to the plate and provide my lovely husband a lunch meal worthy of his service. He needs nourishment that will carry him through the day and ensure he doesn't tire while toiling away making tricity...



You're welcome, sweetheart.

Cat and All

Few things in life are more entertaining than listening to my grandmother tell a story. She can't tell a joke to save her life as she always forgets the punch line, but when it comes to a true, here's-how-it-all-went-down story...she's the master.

Last week, my neighbor T-racy, My Beesh and I were privy to one of Mam's famous story telling sessions. We had been discussing pets, specifically cats, and Mams chimes in, "Oh, that reminds me. Did I tell you Ethyl died? Well, she did. It was the oddest thing though. She had left behind this old cat she loved to pieces and so the family put the cat to sleep and buried her with it." She pauses, as all good story tellers do to allow that last statement to sink into the mind of the listener. As we all sat in silence and disbelief she continued, "Yep. My friend Betty had warned me before I walked in that the cat was in the casket, but I thought it was a stuffed cat or something. Nope. I walked up to pay my respects and there laid Ethyl, cat and all."

Only my grandmother...

House Dumb

Well, we did it. We all survived track out. My grandmother, Mams, made a guest appearance for a week here and that provided PLENTY of blog material... Honestly, my head is still spinning from some of those stories. But first, last week was Bonus's first week back at school. He is a big second grader; which apparently means he has to dress nicer than those white-trash kids in first grade. He actually expects me to iron his clothes. IRON.HIS.CLOTHES. I don't even iron Dorkfish's clothes (a daily power struggle around here...)



Deuce started last week as well. But he only went on Monday as part of their staggered entry program for kindergartners. Today was the BIG!DAY! for him. He chose his outfit, which included a button up shirt, denim shorts and a pair of green skull and crossbones socks. The hair, you ask? Yes, it was spiked in a faux-hawk. He boarded the school bus with his brother at his side and a spring in his step. One can only pray he returns home with a tiny bit of that left.



I am sure you all are asking the question that every single person has asked me lately... "Amo, what are you going to DO with YOURSELF?!"

Listen people, I lead a very exciting life. Just this morning I was taking a shower and pondering big things such as, "Why does the dog hair pile up at the baseboards and float through the house like tumbleweeds on the prairie?", "Does the roughness of your tongue determine exactly how many licks it would take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" and "Is my left arm cleaner than my right because I always wash it first in the shower?"

Exactly when do you think I have time for a job or anything else to keep my mind occupied and sharp?! Pffft.

So, to celebrate my First Day of Freedom in Seven Years (Freedom Fest for short), I went to the dentist. I know, exciting eh? But to be honest, this is the first time I have been able to go with out planning it around a four-hour, three-day-a-week preschool or bribing a friend to watch them. So, yes, it was kind of exhilarating. Don't worry, the FOUR SHOTS OF NOVOCAINE took care of that moment of pleasure, but didn't damper the Freedom Fest spirits! Apparently, my body metabolizes novocaine rather quickly, so by the time I left there, I was numb up to my eye sockets and have a new appreciation for Tammy Faye Bakker.

(By the way, a mango-strawberry smoothie isn't the best choice for one who's lips won't allow them to use a straw and the cold sensitivity is of light-socket proportions. justsoyouknow)

Determined to not loose all of my day, I went to the bank to make a deposit. Again, the first time without a kid in tow. As I sat down at the desk of the branch manager, I immediately apologized for my lisp and assured her it was because of the novocaine and had absolutely nothing to do with alcohol or my kid's absence. Her jaw dropped, her eyes became huge and she said, "What are you doing driving?!"

*blink, blink*

(This may have been the point where my brain exploded...)

Gaining all my composure and trying to hold back all of my smart ass I said, "Because I don't usually drive with my mouth?..."

So this, my friends, has convinced me that staying at home during the day will in fact NOT make one 'house dumb'.

Now where are those damn bonbons?...