|that’s me, on the right, pre-quesadilla|
Oh little blog, I haven’t seen you’re blinking face for some time now. What can I tell you? The days blur together. The weather hits 100 and then sinks back to 75, reflecting my general confusion about life. Is it fall? Is it summer? Why do I have a blog? Are we all destined for head colds? Did my dog really just eat my flip flop? Why did I try to blog while drinking Sleepytime herbal tea (if things get wacky towards the end, refer to this point)? Why doesn’t anyone like my chicken noodle soup?
Seriously. If I dump a can of that yucky store bought stuff, they act like it’s Christmas. Don’t tell me it’s because the noodles are shaped like Disney characters, because I have seen those noodles and they resemble blobs of blobs.
I have no news and so much news I don’t know where to begin, so I shall begin at my front door. It is happily spider free, and by the front door there is a black plastic planter that is apparently empty. It’s emptiness is an illusion. In it’s barren potting soil are buried two optimistic apple seeds, planted by an adorably optimistic five year old. He was skeptical about one thing though: the planter seemed a tad small for a giant apple tree.
|obviously this isn’t a photo of the empty planter. you get the idea though. also? cute baby bonus!|
Poor thing. He doesn’t know, and his mother will not tell him, that the planter is barren because the porch by the front door gets zero sunlight and she can’t even get a fern to flourish over there. I feel a little like a dream killer now that I mention it.
Beyond my front door is my house, and the laundry is mostly put away but I’ll confess I have a sock pile on the kitchen table and the dryer is…ahem…full. I shall plead the sore throat, runny nose excuse. Every person has one in this house. Runny noses that is. Hence, I made chicken noodle soup and everyone complained and the only way I could get the boys to eat it was to bribe them with dessert and allow them to drink the juice through a straw. Their future wives may curse me for the terrible table manners I have instilled today. However, someone did apologize over a late night banana, saying, “I’m sorry I called your food yucky mommy”
|likes hippos, hates soup|
Of course I forgave him but I’ll tell you a secret: that kid better stop pretend sword fighting in bed before he wakes the baby or I may lose my mind. That is, if I don’t fall asleep first.
post script: I know I’ve been a slacker when it comes to blogging. I think I’ll be better at this, I can feel it in the air. It’s getting colder and that makes me slower, and when I’m slower it’s easier to write and read and comment.