Yo Mama standin by to no if it B truethat folks who wear them kiltie things
wood B willin to tes-ti-fy re: unner
wares. Pls. 2 let me no rite away so I
kan sleep better 2-nite.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
If U B no-in NEbody with kilties....
Yo Mama standin by to no if it B truethat folks who wear them kiltie things
wood B willin to tes-ti-fy re: unner
wares. Pls. 2 let me no rite away so I
kan sleep better 2-nite.
A Word To The Wise
As Yo Granmamaw mite sey, she sed lotsathingies, a penny saved is a penny earned,
pretty is as pretty duz, the attached shows
a great sufficiency of what you B needin 2
think bout.
Yo Mama has spoken
Saturday, January 19, 2008
You Mamas Don't Let Your Girlies Shop Alone
I ben tole this B the latest stile in wear 4 girlies.This ain't no C-thru-skirt, it B a skirt with this
lovely painted on it. Shore lookin reel 2 me. I
also B hoping my big girlies ain't gittin none either.
Jes think what might be next round the corner,
both 4 girls and boys !
A Proud Queen
shud be. Y.M. is proud of 'em too. Whew !
Friday, January 18, 2008
What the Exterminator Saw,
Or, How I Built My East Texus Reputation
Bumpus and I have a little game going. All them experts on the morning shows say that you should spice up yer marriage with some flirtin', and after 15 years of holy yellin' matrimony, spice is a good thing.
Someone gave Goozie these foam rubber letters that stick to the shower wall, so we take turns leaving each other messages. Bumpus took his shower this morning and left me something special. Thirty minutes later, the exterminator arrived. I had totally forgotten that he was coming. He is a very sweet, quiet, shy Christian man who hopefully is blind to how CDC-bad filthy my bathroom is...dust bunnies in all corners, soap goo all in the sinks, hair in all unnatural places.
When he emerged from that hazardous pit, he was looking rather sheepish. Do you think it was the ring in the toilet (sorry YM) or the shower door was standing wide open to broadcast Bumpus's invitation?
Someone gave Goozie these foam rubber letters that stick to the shower wall, so we take turns leaving each other messages. Bumpus took his shower this morning and left me something special. Thirty minutes later, the exterminator arrived. I had totally forgotten that he was coming. He is a very sweet, quiet, shy Christian man who hopefully is blind to how CDC-bad filthy my bathroom is...dust bunnies in all corners, soap goo all in the sinks, hair in all unnatural places.
When he emerged from that hazardous pit, he was looking rather sheepish. Do you think it was the ring in the toilet (sorry YM) or the shower door was standing wide open to broadcast Bumpus's invitation?
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Felix & Oscar Live:
Or, Alternatively, What Happens When
Fatty Says "Forget It"
This is a true story, every word of it, and although it's way too long, I need to record it for pos-tear-it-tee's sake, because it does fortell the future.
Tuesday night, I arrived home after a long day or work and meetings to get my usual greeting: "We're hoooooooonnnnngry! What's for dinner?" To which I responded, "Shut up and get me a pint of wine from the box." Well, not really, but that's what I was thinking anyway. I did my deep breathing exercises, recently recommended by my anger management coach, and "assumed the position" (behind the counter with some things that I can throw at people, like wooden spoons, and some things I shouldn't throw at people, like knives and plates).
By some wonderful miracle, the kitchen was actually clean. I put some pre-breaded, frozen chicken strips in the oven (because I'm a loving, health-conscious Mother who only buys organic) and tinkered around waiting for them to be ready. In the midst of my tinkering, I noticed that the compost bucket needed to be emptied. What a perfect job for a short person who can't legally drink.
Fatty to the boys, who are in repose upon the sofas, gazing upon scholarly tomes with lots of pictures all the whilst picking their snooters: "I need someone to please take the compost out."
This chore involves opening a door and walking about 50 feet, dumping a bucket on a small pile, turning around, walking 50 feet back inside, closing the door, and putting the bucket on the counter. Big whoop.
Rufus, who is quick on the draw: "I did it last time! He has to do it!"
At this point, Boudreaux emits a loud nasal sound that is somewhat akin to the siren on an East Texus ambulance: "AWWWWWWWWWWWW, DO I HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE TO?"
Now, I don't know what planet's moon was in what orbit, but my fuse wasn't short enough to get even get lit...I just went from zero to absolutely pissed off in about 2.3 nanoseconds:
"Fine," I said, "I'll take it out and you people can make your own dinner. If you can't do anything helpful for me, then I won't be helpful for you."
At this point, I expected much apologies and butt kissing and someone else to take the damn compost out, but in the two second pause that I allowed, none of this happened, so I stomped out to the damn heap and dumped the damned stuff myself. Upon returning inside, the timer went off for the chicken strips, so I put the hot pan on the stove top, put a fork next to them, got down two plates from the tall cabinet, and said, "Okay, that's all I'm contributing. The pan is hot, so don't burn yourself because you get no sympathy from me. Come in here and make your dinner."
At this point, I expected more whining and pleading, but no, I left the kitchen, and both boys got up to fix their dinners (aka, put a chicken strip on a plate). My next expectation was that each would eat just a chicken strip for dinner, because after all, that was cooked and waiting. But again, I was wrong. The scene that unfolded was an amazing illustration of birth order, genetics, and other stuff that I don't have the brain cells to list here.
Rufus got a plate, put a chicken strip on it, and walked to the table, not saying a word (MIRACLE!). His vibe was "I don't give a damn what sort of fit you throw. I'll eat my chicken and show you I don't care." He was a miniature version of Bumpus. Exactly.
But Boudreaux marched into the kitchen with a screaming air of "Alright then, I'll show you, dammit!" Yes, he is his mother's child and acts just like her. He then dug an orange out of the fridge, got a cutting board and a knife (not exceptionally sharp, so I just watched in interest from the other room), and proceeded to peel and section the orange. Rufus sat eating in silence. Boudreaux (just like his Mama would) marched over to the table and put half the orange segments on Rufus's plate: "Eat this," he commanded. Rufus (just like his Daddy) sat in silence, chewing.
Boudreaux picked up an apple, sliced it, cored it (well, sort of), and again, marched half of it over to Rufus's plate: "Eat this too," little bossy-like-me commanded. Stoic-"I'm not gonna let you get to me"-like-his-Daddy-Rufus sat in silence, chewing.
Boudreaux went to the icebox and dug out the green beans, put the container in the microwave for 60 seconds, marched back to Rufus and put about 10 green beans on his plate. Rufus, who will refuse all cooperation, spoke: "I don't want green beans. In fact I haven't asked for any of this." Boudreaux de la Mama: "You need to eat a vegetable. Hush up and eat them." Rufus goes back to silent chewing.
Boudreax returned to the kitchen, opened the bread and put a piece on his plate (with the chicken, apple, orange, and green beans). At this point, Rufus silently got up from the table, took his plate into the kitchen, and put it on the counter...the chicken, apple, and orange eatten, and the green beans untouched. Boudreaux looks at the green beans, bursts into screaming tears and runs out of the room, throwing himself face down on the bed and wailing loudly.
Rufus, unfazed, walks into the living room and sits down with a book.
The wailing continues, Rufus looking unaffected.
"Would you like some advice?" I finally ask.
R: "About what?"
F: "About your brother, who is throwing a screaming hissy fit this very moment."
R, after a long pause: "I guess."
F: "I suggest you go in there and (1) thank him for making your dinner and (2) tell him you will wash the dishes in return."
Rufus thought for a minute and then got up and went into the room where Boudreaux sounded like he might be in the later stages of labor. Almost immediately Rufus comes back out, picks up his book, and sits back down.
F: "Did you tell him?"
R: "No."
F: "Why not?"
R: "Because he is screaming so loud that he can't hear me."
F: "I suggest tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention."
He does and makes his peace and goes back to his book. Boudreaux eventually pulls himself together and returns to the kitchen, where he goes back to his slice of bread, gets out a slice of cheese, and makes himself 1/2 of a cheese sandwich to go with his dinner. He has a balanced meal: chicken, apple, orange, green beans, cheese, and bread, with a large glass of milk (poured himself). I am impressed by trying hard to look uninvolved.
Rufus to Boudreaux: "When you're done, I'll clean up. Thank you again for my dinner."
Boudreaux: "If you had been a little more grateful, you could have had a balanced meal like me."
Rufus did the dishes.
Tuesday night, I arrived home after a long day or work and meetings to get my usual greeting: "We're hoooooooonnnnngry! What's for dinner?" To which I responded, "Shut up and get me a pint of wine from the box." Well, not really, but that's what I was thinking anyway. I did my deep breathing exercises, recently recommended by my anger management coach, and "assumed the position" (behind the counter with some things that I can throw at people, like wooden spoons, and some things I shouldn't throw at people, like knives and plates).
By some wonderful miracle, the kitchen was actually clean. I put some pre-breaded, frozen chicken strips in the oven (because I'm a loving, health-conscious Mother who only buys organic) and tinkered around waiting for them to be ready. In the midst of my tinkering, I noticed that the compost bucket needed to be emptied. What a perfect job for a short person who can't legally drink.
Fatty to the boys, who are in repose upon the sofas, gazing upon scholarly tomes with lots of pictures all the whilst picking their snooters: "I need someone to please take the compost out."
This chore involves opening a door and walking about 50 feet, dumping a bucket on a small pile, turning around, walking 50 feet back inside, closing the door, and putting the bucket on the counter. Big whoop.
Rufus, who is quick on the draw: "I did it last time! He has to do it!"
At this point, Boudreaux emits a loud nasal sound that is somewhat akin to the siren on an East Texus ambulance: "AWWWWWWWWWWWW, DO I HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE TO?"
Now, I don't know what planet's moon was in what orbit, but my fuse wasn't short enough to get even get lit...I just went from zero to absolutely pissed off in about 2.3 nanoseconds:
"Fine," I said, "I'll take it out and you people can make your own dinner. If you can't do anything helpful for me, then I won't be helpful for you."
At this point, I expected much apologies and butt kissing and someone else to take the damn compost out, but in the two second pause that I allowed, none of this happened, so I stomped out to the damn heap and dumped the damned stuff myself. Upon returning inside, the timer went off for the chicken strips, so I put the hot pan on the stove top, put a fork next to them, got down two plates from the tall cabinet, and said, "Okay, that's all I'm contributing. The pan is hot, so don't burn yourself because you get no sympathy from me. Come in here and make your dinner."
At this point, I expected more whining and pleading, but no, I left the kitchen, and both boys got up to fix their dinners (aka, put a chicken strip on a plate). My next expectation was that each would eat just a chicken strip for dinner, because after all, that was cooked and waiting. But again, I was wrong. The scene that unfolded was an amazing illustration of birth order, genetics, and other stuff that I don't have the brain cells to list here.
Rufus got a plate, put a chicken strip on it, and walked to the table, not saying a word (MIRACLE!). His vibe was "I don't give a damn what sort of fit you throw. I'll eat my chicken and show you I don't care." He was a miniature version of Bumpus. Exactly.
But Boudreaux marched into the kitchen with a screaming air of "Alright then, I'll show you, dammit!" Yes, he is his mother's child and acts just like her. He then dug an orange out of the fridge, got a cutting board and a knife (not exceptionally sharp, so I just watched in interest from the other room), and proceeded to peel and section the orange. Rufus sat eating in silence. Boudreaux (just like his Mama would) marched over to the table and put half the orange segments on Rufus's plate: "Eat this," he commanded. Rufus (just like his Daddy) sat in silence, chewing.
Boudreaux picked up an apple, sliced it, cored it (well, sort of), and again, marched half of it over to Rufus's plate: "Eat this too," little bossy-like-me commanded. Stoic-"I'm not gonna let you get to me"-like-his-Daddy-Rufus sat in silence, chewing.
Boudreaux went to the icebox and dug out the green beans, put the container in the microwave for 60 seconds, marched back to Rufus and put about 10 green beans on his plate. Rufus, who will refuse all cooperation, spoke: "I don't want green beans. In fact I haven't asked for any of this." Boudreaux de la Mama: "You need to eat a vegetable. Hush up and eat them." Rufus goes back to silent chewing.
Boudreax returned to the kitchen, opened the bread and put a piece on his plate (with the chicken, apple, orange, and green beans). At this point, Rufus silently got up from the table, took his plate into the kitchen, and put it on the counter...the chicken, apple, and orange eatten, and the green beans untouched. Boudreaux looks at the green beans, bursts into screaming tears and runs out of the room, throwing himself face down on the bed and wailing loudly.
Rufus, unfazed, walks into the living room and sits down with a book.
The wailing continues, Rufus looking unaffected.
"Would you like some advice?" I finally ask.
R: "About what?"
F: "About your brother, who is throwing a screaming hissy fit this very moment."
R, after a long pause: "I guess."
F: "I suggest you go in there and (1) thank him for making your dinner and (2) tell him you will wash the dishes in return."
Rufus thought for a minute and then got up and went into the room where Boudreaux sounded like he might be in the later stages of labor. Almost immediately Rufus comes back out, picks up his book, and sits back down.
F: "Did you tell him?"
R: "No."
F: "Why not?"
R: "Because he is screaming so loud that he can't hear me."
F: "I suggest tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention."
He does and makes his peace and goes back to his book. Boudreaux eventually pulls himself together and returns to the kitchen, where he goes back to his slice of bread, gets out a slice of cheese, and makes himself 1/2 of a cheese sandwich to go with his dinner. He has a balanced meal: chicken, apple, orange, green beans, cheese, and bread, with a large glass of milk (poured himself). I am impressed by trying hard to look uninvolved.
Rufus to Boudreaux: "When you're done, I'll clean up. Thank you again for my dinner."
Boudreaux: "If you had been a little more grateful, you could have had a balanced meal like me."
Rufus did the dishes.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Kaptin's Teeth 2 Dull to Eat N. E. More
The Kaptin He B seying that his teethdone got dull and He thinkin Y. M.
should call the Dentist-of-Record and
C what he mite charge to shapen the
Kaptin's teeth. Y. M. is sumwhat a
bit reluctant to make the call cause
I B thinkin the DOR will just whoop
and holler and laugh and make smartie remarks. Cud one of
U take care of this 4 Y.M.?
I B standin by awaitin your replies.
Wunder what the familee queen of all wud think? Meybe we
cud get a 2 for 1 deal? Do U suppose thet when you ain't
chewin food properly it jes turns to fat faster? Give one a lot
to think about at bedtime when U kaint go to sleep, don't it.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Monday, January 14, 2008
For the Potty Mouth crowd.........
Y.M. thought there might be a certain factorwithin the viewing audience that would find
this worthy of attention. I guess the M.S. Poop
is a floating cess-pool-barge that goes around
collecting a little something to then transfer
N-2 the water trailer marine center to flow on
to join other tributaries ... and then what? I'll
bet the Potty Mouth Crowd has an answer?
You saw it first on Y.M.'s hot line..........
"You Should Have Seen The Other Gal"
This is basically for the Middle Child in a particular home.It just proves that even very old ladies can have a run-in
from time to time.
Actually there was not a "other gal", I am pleased to say.
There was a loose board on the boat dock at the boat show
and Y.M. went a-flying thru the air. One of the men on the
boat where I was supposed to be HEARD the crash and saw
my blouse on the dock and came a-running. Poor Y.M.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
My New Obsession
RUN, don't walk, to your nearest store and BUY. Yes, they are
high priced, but you can hide them in the closet or wherever you
hide your wine-in-a-box. I can eat a whole box in nothing flat.
They come in several flavors, all good. My favorite, I guess, is the
"Melting Romano". Our Publix has these little dandies displayed
by the fancy cheese/deli area. Let Yo Mama know what you be
thinking!
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Sunset at Anglers Club
We boated with friends last night and as we came home this is the light
we had to guide us ..... what a memorable sight. Made me think of each
of you and wish you were here. Love from Y.M. and Hal and Lucy
Monday, December 17, 2007
Milestone for the Day:
Magoo Moves to the Big Table
Click on the picture to consider it in detail. Handwashing is recommended.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
A Day to Note: Dec 12, 2007
Today, for over four hours, my kitchen was CLEAN...not even a dirty glass.
RIP Clean Kitchen
b. 10:30 AM
d. 3:15 PM
(Yes, to avoid dirtying a glass, I just drank my wine straight from the box.)
The 2007 East Texus Finger Licking Christmas Miracle
AKA: Fatty Gets a Compliment
I found an outstanding recipe for oven-fried drumsticks online here. One small adjustment, cause as Bumpus says, I "can't ever leave a recipe alone": next time, I would leave out the tin foil and just soak the pans. I had one pan with no foil, and those drumsticks turned out really nice and crispy.
Since I am normally fond of the breastuses and get real snotty about eatting any other parts, for me to say this is good, it must be excellent. And when ground beef is 2.99 per pound and drumsticks are on sale for .99 per pound, this recipe is friggin damn fine.
When the boys even like it, well, then I have a miracle. From hence forth, it shall be called such.
Upon tasting them, they consulted and paid me the highest culinary compliments they could fathom.
Rufus: "Mama, you should be on Iron Chef!"
Boudreaux: "No, even better...Mama, you should work at Golden Coral!"
Since I am normally fond of the breastuses and get real snotty about eatting any other parts, for me to say this is good, it must be excellent. And when ground beef is 2.99 per pound and drumsticks are on sale for .99 per pound, this recipe is friggin damn fine.
When the boys even like it, well, then I have a miracle. From hence forth, it shall be called such.
Upon tasting them, they consulted and paid me the highest culinary compliments they could fathom.
Rufus: "Mama, you should be on Iron Chef!"
Boudreaux: "No, even better...Mama, you should work at Golden Coral!"
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Road to the Cemetery
Brick Pond Road is very short, several houses along the way. When you come to the very end the pavement ends and you see this little path....just keep going ahead and up ahead where you see the sunshine spot, turn left and you are there. Matthew Watson dedicated this entrance in perpetuity forever so that Watsons could come and pay respects. Pretty neat !Watson Cemetery, Brick Pond Road
This is the little cemetery, so pretty and very peaceful. Most of those buried there are Watsons but there are a few others. The man from the Library/Historical group told me that some were close friends and neighbors. Note to rock wall that surrounds it except for one little opening (upper right just before you get to the monument, so folks could come and go.Watson Monument
Matthew Watson (1741-1801) and his wife Avis are both buried here in Barrington, he was the son of Matthew who lived to be 107. Matthew and Avis erected this monument to his parents after their deaths.Through the woods ....
This is the path through the woods from the cemetery to Brick Pond. You get the most wonderful feeling of peace there - no noise, no traffic - and it really almost takes you back in time to when Matthew and Bethiah owned 2000-3000 acres of this property. Today it is a lovely neighborhood to one side of the pond and a green belt the rest of the way around the pond..........Brick Pond
This is Brick Pond as it was the first week in October. The pond is a short distance from the cemetery, a really pretty little walk through the woods. The swans were happy to see me. The pond is much larger than it looks in this photo - it was formed when the brickmakers had used so much clay that the water seeped in and made this lovely spot.Way Up Yonder in R.I.
Here B Yo Mama astandin by them 2 gravestones. These folks B my Ann-Cestors and they B yours too. These 2 stones is a garding the resting spot of Matthew Watson born in Ireland in 1696. He married Bethiah Reed in 1732/33 (not twice but just one of them dates) in Barrington. He lived to be 107, he died in 1803. Lived in parts of 3 centuries. He and his wife built a magnificient home with marble fireplaces, Dutch tiles and a woolen carpet made by Bethiah. They had the first wall paper in town. People came from far and near and it is said that men visitors would not come into the house but just stood in the doorway and admired the carpet, they were afraid they would get it dirty. My right hand is on the stone of Bethiah, Matthew is to my left.Flat Stanley came and stayed
Jes I-magin Yo Mama's shock when a black boy in a black bikini kam to visit me and Mr Hal and Miss Lucy Poop Jones. This kid had yeller eyes and wanted to see what wuz a goin on over here in our Culture. We ain't got much culture but we do has lotsa water and boats around and Y.M guesses that is a kinda culture. We done showed him a good time. He was a standin in the bak door looking out and saw Lucy, she was huntin I-Guanas. Gits a cookie 4 ever one she chases N-2 the water. Big dog smart dog. Flat Stanley went home late last week and I B guessin he telling sum tales to them 2nd graders this week. Wishin I cud B a fly on the wall.............Friday, October 26, 2007
Word for the Day:
Deadant deadant deadantdeadantdeadantdeadant deadannnnnnnnnnt
The boys have taught Magoo to sing the them to the Pink Panther. Yes, the good old Henry Mancinni version. Except, instead of the deadant version, they sing, "Manuh Manuh Manuhmanuhmanuhmanuhmanuh Manuuuuuuuhhhhhh." I will try for video on this.
Fatty the Clown's Parenting Advice:
Psycho is Scary
As Yo Mama Taught Me:
Act enthusiastic and you'll be enthusiastic!
Act enthusiastic and you'll be enthusiastic!
Nothing and I mean nothing works in terms of disciplining Rufus. Timeouts don't work. A swat doesn't work. Removing privileges doesn't work. Yelling doesn't work. And in fact, I think that immunity is rubbing off on Boudreaux, too. It's like they have ganged up to prove that I am an old fraud who will scream and yell and stomp my feet at the drop of a hat. The sound and the fury...signifying nothing. I guess this is probably the truth. I don't ask Bumpus, because he will give me a lecture.
So last week, Rufus was practicing his endurance skills by repeatedly pushing my buttons over absolute trivia. He was fully, 110% succeeding in pushing me over the edge as at 6 PM. The bird was screeching, Magoo was crying, the cats were yowling, and I was having one of my 25-per day sneezing fits, wetting my pants a little with every ACHOOO. Whatever it was he asked, I do not remember. The important point is that he had pushed me so far beyond my limit that my head might have exploded right off of my shoulders just like a Roman candle on July 4th, with sparks shooting colored balls out of my neck. Something snapped, and instead of yelling (why compete with all the other decibels in the house?), I turned to him, put a huge fake grin on my face, looked straight at him but sort of unfocused my eyes, and answered him in a very fake, very cheery voice. I have since come to call it "The Psycho Clown Response."
This had an unexpected and drastic effect: Rufus froze in place. He STOPPED TALKING. He LOOKED FRIGHTENED. His BOTTOM LIP QUIVERED. He said "YES MA'AM to whatever it was I told him. And he quietly went about his business. MAGIC!
I took note.
Later that night, when he was making his 48th excuse for not going to bed, I tried it again, a very fake big smiling, sing-song voice, "Well, I see you're having trouble settling down for bed! We'll have to try going to bed an hour earlier tomorrow night to see if that can help." Again, deer...in...the...headlights. VICTORY!
The next day, it happened yet again. Only this time, he paused long enough, looking very somber, to say, "Ummmm Mom? Could you not look at me like that? It scares me."
I felt like Ed was at my door with a check. It continues to be effective. I suggest it to all harried mothers and fathers.
So last week, Rufus was practicing his endurance skills by repeatedly pushing my buttons over absolute trivia. He was fully, 110% succeeding in pushing me over the edge as at 6 PM. The bird was screeching, Magoo was crying, the cats were yowling, and I was having one of my 25-per day sneezing fits, wetting my pants a little with every ACHOOO. Whatever it was he asked, I do not remember. The important point is that he had pushed me so far beyond my limit that my head might have exploded right off of my shoulders just like a Roman candle on July 4th, with sparks shooting colored balls out of my neck. Something snapped, and instead of yelling (why compete with all the other decibels in the house?), I turned to him, put a huge fake grin on my face, looked straight at him but sort of unfocused my eyes, and answered him in a very fake, very cheery voice. I have since come to call it "The Psycho Clown Response."
This had an unexpected and drastic effect: Rufus froze in place. He STOPPED TALKING. He LOOKED FRIGHTENED. His BOTTOM LIP QUIVERED. He said "YES MA'AM to whatever it was I told him. And he quietly went about his business. MAGIC!
I took note.
Later that night, when he was making his 48th excuse for not going to bed, I tried it again, a very fake big smiling, sing-song voice, "Well, I see you're having trouble settling down for bed! We'll have to try going to bed an hour earlier tomorrow night to see if that can help." Again, deer...in...the...headlights. VICTORY!
The next day, it happened yet again. Only this time, he paused long enough, looking very somber, to say, "Ummmm Mom? Could you not look at me like that? It scares me."
I felt like Ed was at my door with a check. It continues to be effective. I suggest it to all harried mothers and fathers.
PS: It doesn't work on husbands.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Word for the Day: DAMMIT!
I have just noticed that when Magoo gets frustrated over not being able to reach, possess, lift, throw, or shred the item of her intense desire she yells a word that sounds suspiciously like DAMMIT!
This will be funny until kindergarten rolls around.
This will be funny until kindergarten rolls around.
Fatty's Note to Self #1018
Lists are such a good thing. I like lists because they help me remember everything I forget due to my seasonal alzheimer's disorder and my situational ADD.
List of Items Not to Eat for Breakfast on the Day of Your Dentist Appointment:
1. Bar-B-Que Potato Chips
I'm sure I'll think of some other items to add to this list. Feel free to suggest your own.
List of Items Not to Eat for Breakfast on the Day of Your Dentist Appointment:
1. Bar-B-Que Potato Chips
I'm sure I'll think of some other items to add to this list. Feel free to suggest your own.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Yo Mama Knew Just What I Needed...
It Vibrates
And Bumpus Likes It, Too
This arrived unannounced on my doorstep yesterday in a gigantic poster tube, delivered by the usually-sweaty UPS man. Here's the sequence of events:1. I saw the package was from Yo Mama.
2. I opened it and found just this--no packaging, no instructions.
3. I opened the "thing" and saw that it needed four double-D batteries.
4. I inserted the batteries and closed the lid.
5. It started vibrating.
6. I thought, "yes, she knew just what I needed...but did she have to get extra large?"
Then Bumpus got home and got very concerned. He wanted to know where he fit into the plan with my new item. He had the presence of mind to look through the bubble wrap that had gingerly protected my new friend. He found the instructions...for my "Electronic Ground Rodent Repeller." I will report on its effectiveness soon.
Needless to say, Bumpus was a tad disappointed at first, but now he is looking forward to some results.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Halloween: I Got Big Plans
About once per year, I have the mental stability to do something creative. Thankfully, that sometimes falls around Halloween, like it did this year. Currently residing at my house are two Jedi Knights, one Princess, and one wrinkly, green Jedi master.
Since the Princess still doesn't have a boatload of her own hair, I had to make her big ole honking swirly pigtail wraparounds yesterday. They are braided and then sewn onto a crocheted hat. All are made of very soft brown chenille yarn. Now I have three Jedi capes to make.
Princess Leigha Says "Gig Em"
Since the Princess still doesn't have a boatload of her own hair, I had to make her big ole honking swirly pigtail wraparounds yesterday. They are braided and then sewn onto a crocheted hat. All are made of very soft brown chenille yarn. Now I have three Jedi capes to make.
Princess Leigha Says "Gig Em"Friday, October 12, 2007
Word for the Day: Cheese
Magoo is starting to talk, and I remember those sweet days with Boudreaux and Rufus when you could actually list the words they could say (because they couldn't say that many). So I thought I would record her new words for a while. Then, one day in the next few months, she will have what Fatty Jr. calls a "gold star day," and then suddenly, I will not be able to keep track of how many words she knows. Here's where we are as of today:
Palabras de la Magoozie:
Mama
Dad
Jack
Baby
Bob
"That" (sound like "dat!" and is accompanied by fierce pointing gestures)
Kitty (ki-ki)
Mammy
Bobbie (we don't know that this means yet)
Juice (dooce)
Yummer (nummer-nummer-nummer, thank you Yo Mama)
And the new word for today: "cheese" (sounds like dee).
Sidenote: Magoo also knows to nod for yes and shake her head for no. She is not yet screaming "no" back at me, but I will not be one bit surprised when that happens. She can also work the digital phone well enough to leave herself a message.
Palabras de la Magoozie:
Mama
Dad
Jack
Baby
Bob
"That" (sound like "dat!" and is accompanied by fierce pointing gestures)
Kitty (ki-ki)
Mammy
Bobbie (we don't know that this means yet)
Juice (dooce)
Yummer (nummer-nummer-nummer, thank you Yo Mama)
And the new word for today: "cheese" (sounds like dee).
Sidenote: Magoo also knows to nod for yes and shake her head for no. She is not yet screaming "no" back at me, but I will not be one bit surprised when that happens. She can also work the digital phone well enough to leave herself a message.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
He Told Me the Elevator Door is Hidden
Behind the Front of the Coke Machine
AKA: RU May be Wilder than I Originally Knew
Boudreaux has a fourth grade daily journal this year. The teacher asks a question, and the little cherubs freewrite for 10 minutes.
Question for September 27:
"What do you think goes on in the teachers' lounge?"
Boudreaux's Response:
"I think that an elevator leads to the top of the school where the teachers tan. I think there is an indoor pool, a snack bar, a bowling lane, a skating rink, a baseball diamond, video games, a roller coaster, and a hot tub and a disco ball. So the teachers don't stay after school to grade our work, or erase the chalk board. They go to the teacher's lounge and dance in the hot tub and pool, or watch a movie on their plasma TV. So the teachers get to have fun while we do homework."
Question for September 27:
"What do you think goes on in the teachers' lounge?"
Boudreaux's Response:
"I think that an elevator leads to the top of the school where the teachers tan. I think there is an indoor pool, a snack bar, a bowling lane, a skating rink, a baseball diamond, video games, a roller coaster, and a hot tub and a disco ball. So the teachers don't stay after school to grade our work, or erase the chalk board. They go to the teacher's lounge and dance in the hot tub and pool, or watch a movie on their plasma TV. So the teachers get to have fun while we do homework."
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Photo for
Aunt Choco Cookie Fiber Packet de la Lemone,
Taken Yes-stir-dee
FUDGESICLE (and combover)!**yes, I had to google fudgesicle to figure out how to spell it.
WHERE THE HELL HAVE I BEEN?
Things I have to come back and report, because tonight I am too sleepy to type:
1. PETA is after me.
2. There's stool in my way.
3. I made an ass out of myself, again, in public. This time to the tune of "Brick House."
4. The garden is bananas...and worms.
6. We have a politician in the family.
7. My underwear are persistently inside out.
9. Rufus is budgeting my money.
10. What's that smear on my glasses?
11. Pork ribs work damn fine in the slo-cooker.
12. HEEEEEEEEERE CRABBY CRABBY!
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