The next time you go to the grocery store and complain because your New York Strip steaks are $5.99 a pound, just remember, it could be worse. You could be paying $13 a pound for M&M’s in Las Vegas. I kid you not. But they sure are pretty, huh? Don't ask my daughter about it. Sore subject.
My son passed his test to obtain his yellow belt in Kyuki-Do yesterday. He worked very hard so in a few days he’ll actually be belted in a brief ceremony. I think he can now officially kick my butt. I’d better stay on his good side. Mighty mothering moment when you realize your child can whup ya.
Something I’ve never understood—how deodorant works on men. I mean basically they just apply it to their underarm hair, right? So how does that help anything?
Last summer I bought a wooden planter that I thought would look great filled with bright red petunias. I’ve never been able to use it yet. Why? Because every time I think I’m going to use it, my son is playing with it and complains that I am trying to take away his “gun base.” Need ideas for your ten-year-old’s birthday? Get him a planter.
I had a moment of quiet today. Jere was away playing at a friend’s homemade water park. The thermometer read 95 degrees so I turned on the swamp cooler. I had just eaten lunch of leftover spaghetti and sat down to read some blogs. Lulled by the serenity of the moment, I sat there, reflecting on my momentary solitude while blindly staring at my computer screen. The cooler hummed on hypnotically, and was soon accompanied by the far-off sound of a neighbor mowing his lawn. The mower got closer and closer and closer until…suddenly…Holy Chainsaws, Batman! It wasn’t a mower after all. I had awakened myself with the sound of my own snoring.
And then, Michael Jackson died. Nothing left to think.