hard to write haik
withot se of fll keyboard
milk, compter: bad
They say there’s no se crying over spilled milk. Bt they did not have milk spilled into the keyboard of their iBook. As yo can see, I am withot the se of a certain key. More than one, actally. There are three keys that don’t work, all total, bt only one of them is sed a lot.
My blog posts are now a fn word mble game! See if yo can figre ot which letters are broken. I st don’t know what I’m going to do.
short holiday trip
many sweets, imodium
we should be home soon
We’re eating our way through north Dallas right now, finishing up the holidays with a punctuation mark made of chocolate and stomach aches. It’s been a swift, fun trip, and I’m looking forward to heading home sometime tomorrow to start getting things back to "normal."
There are definitely things I’m going to miss when I get back home, though, namely nice toilet paper and fabric softener. You never know just how scratchy your towels are (ditto for your toilet paper) until you stay over at someone’s house.
Also, I will miss staying up late with people who are willing to play Scrabble with me even when I shout things like, "SUCK IT, WORDY MCTINYBRAIN YOU’RE GOING DOWN!"
One more thing I’ll miss? The 46 inch LCD flat screen HD TV, glowing with the glory of Verizon Fiber.
Oh, and people who say, "Would you like me to make you breakfast?" after allowing you to sleep until 10 am.
Hell, what am I talking about? I don’t want to go home.
Well, yes I do. Because scenes like this take 5 years off my life (note the Christmas tree covered in antique GLASS ornaments, and the uncontrollable RC car underneath it. eeee):
santa’s sleigh is full
various tummies are too
the gifts are bought, presents wrapped
now it’s time to clean
We’re all running around like crazy today, trying to clean up the
pig sty house in anticipation of our guests. Things were really out of hand around here and so now my husband and I are frantically trying to remove carpet stains and handprints off the wall and things like that, in addition to the regular cleaning.
My husband would never admit this, but I will: we’re feeling a little compensatory after the Christmas Debacle of Aught Six. So we’re working hard to make this Christmas extra special nice (even though none of the victims of Aught Six will be here, nor will they probably ever come back).
The cleaning commences. Threats of calling Santa and canceling Christmas are thrown about in an unmeasured fashion. The wee one is cowering in the game room, picking up drifts of small plastic toys that are at least knee high. The wee-er one tosses laundry on the floor as quickly as I can fold it. We are a merry lot.
And also, in the vein of our most favorite Christmas movie ever – a Christmas Story – I unleashed a powerful string of profanities this morning that hovers over our house, still. The wee one, in an attempt to see if his toast was ready, hopped onto the counter and spilled an entire travel mug of coffee onto a present I bought for a friend; a present I am beside myself over because it’s so incredibly fantastic. Now it is incredibly, fantastically stained brown and infused with the scent of french roast and chicory. As I stated so plainly this morning: AHHHHHHH GODDAMMIT FUCK NOOOOOO!
The cleaning continues… and I’m wrapping that present anyway. Things that smell like coffee are nice. Right?
Q. What’s green and red and orange and a little sparkly?
A. Dog puke on my bedspread! Shiny wrapping paper does not the best breakfast make.
1) Don’t expect the bagger at the grocery store to understand how to actually bag your groceries. Despite the seemingly ample size of his head, it is apparently not big enough to process the thought, "placing a carton of eggs next to a toddler might result in something bad happening."
2) Always check to make sure the above-mentioned toddler is not seated next to a carton of eggs carefully placed next to her by the ample-headed yet thought-free bag boy. Do this BEFORE you push the heavy, heavy cart out of the store and through the parking lot.
3) If you have neglected to perform the second step, above, don’t stop your buggy in the middle of the parking lot, even if you notice your poco diablo wielding eggs in both fists like tiny, very expensive, brown grenades.
4) Failing to perform number three on the list may result in either a) getting run over b) watching several birds narrowly escape the cruel and ironic fate of being bombed with fresh eggs or c) all of the above
Please feel free to share this list with anyone you think might benefit from it.
Sock in water bowl
The hell is it doing there?
Blame dog. Blame baby.
Hilarious stories of grocery shopping, court house annex visits, and the trials of other mundane yet exciting things will have to wait. As I stand here trying to blog (yes, I’m standing and typing as I cook dinner. What? Don’t you do that?) the wee-er one has BITTEN me on the THIGH through my jeans.
The baby wins. Blogging must wait. And I must buy thicker jeans. Or a new kid. Either way.