The Shrine to Rufus

Rufus having a Halloween birthday means that his celebration always gets meshed in with the normal trick or treating, etc. So this year, I decided, a week before his birthday, to make him his own special display. Magoo and I decorated a big banner for his birthday (above what you can see in the picture) and then I set up this lovely display. The big newspaper covered box is his "big" present. Bumpus thought it looked like a shrine.

Haircut #3: On the Way to Da Bob

Magoo was expertly bribed by the very fine hair cutting professional. We are working on having a bob haircut, but we have to wait for the pieces around her face to grow out first.

HEY YO MAMA - FEEL FREE TO LEAVE THIS SIGN IN THE YARD

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

"NO OBAMA" says YO MAMA

I am proud to announce that political signs in the neighborhood are no longer safe - Yo Mama is on a political mission to remove all Obama signs and throw them in the bushes. You GO, YO MAMA!!!

Post-Report from Sin City, Part VI

I was sitting in the Houston airport with my i-Pod on, watching a silly TV show. I completely forgot where I was, and I completely wasn't paying attention to myself, and I farted. Now, I had headphones on, so I didn't hear it. However, I felt the Thunder from Down Under, and it didn't feel like a puny one. The guy sitting to my right, who had been reading, also looked up from his book. I smiled...real big.

What do you expect? Remember that whole no-poo-away-from-home issue? Eventually you have to pay the piper.

Post-Report from Sin City, Part V

The air port shuttle picked me up at 7 AM, and I noticed the guy talked real funny, with an odd accent. When he left me off, I said thank you, and he asked me where I was from. I told him Texus, and he asked what part. He was from the same area. No wonder he talked funny. He talked just like me.

Post-Report from Sin City, Part IV

We did not go to Thunder from Down Under because, in my house, that is one of the things we call farts. Who wants to pay good money to watch a bunch of overly groomed, oiled, sweaty, leather-pants-wearing girly men fart?

Post-Report from Sin City, Part III

I promised not to discuss what we drank or how late we stayed out.

Post-Report from Sin City, Part II

We did not take any photos of me losing my money. That is a private event.

Although I did get some free drinks...

Post-Report from Sin City, Part I

I lost all of my money. Quickly. Twenty cents at a time.

Magoo and Rufus Prepare for Church

At dinner tonight, Rufus was busy teaching Magoo some new tunes. I'm assuming that this is in preparation for our bi-monthly church attendance this coming weekend. First he taught her the individual words, then she put it together in a song.

Sing along, using the melody to "Are You Sleeping, Brother John":

"Rat pa too tee, Rat pa too tee,
Chicken balls. Chicken balls.
Meaty meaty meatballs.
Meaty meaty meatballs.
Spherical meat. Spherical meat."

Yes, I had to ask Bumpus how to spell spear-i-cal.

Just Standing By ..........

Y.M. is threw with her flowerbed
cleaning and planting and now she
just standing by WAITING FOR
BLOG PHOTOS AND FULL REPORT
ON THE MOST RECENT TRIP OF
THE WAYWARD GIRLIES...........

Home Again

Guess what arrived home 2-day, no
canvas, lotsa stuff 2 do 2 make ready
for the fall voyage. The Kaptain was a
nervous nelly til he got it all tied up.
And, NO, he did not drive the boat, got
his Friend Frank the pilot to drive and
The Kaptain just hung out and bossed
the whole situation. Glad to have that
behind us. Shame I won't be here for the
next 4 days to haul, load, clean, move and
smile alot. B doing that next week.
Y.M. reporting in

A Bit of His-tor-E

We gonna put this somewhere M-Portant
on the outside of That House so people B
knowing where they R. This is Hal's first
office sign, 1966. Don't ya think this is a
winner? Got 2 more, one a more recent
sign and then the last one "Corporate
Office" when they moved him out of the
main office N-2 the little office next door.

Dear CPS,I hereby confess to scaring the shit out of my daughter.Love,Fatty

A few weeks ago, Magoo and I were having our evening shower party, where I end up sitting on the floor of the shower while she plays with all the toys I manage to cram in there, much to Bumpus's sha-grin.

We ended up playing a game where I would hide my eyes with my hands, Magoo would pour water from a cup over my shoulder/leg/head, and I would open my hands and yell BOO! Think of a shower version peek-a-boo and you have the idea. So this went on for some time, probably a dozen rounds, and she was having a blast, shrieking and laughing.

I went for another round, closed my eyes, felt the water pour over my shoulder, and yelled "BOO!" She screamed and laughed and then look absolutely shocked. Her face froze and she stood very still. Then she turned around and looked down. She had pooped. She was MORT-ee-FIDE.

Now, let me take a little side trip here to say that each of my boys had one poop-in-the-tub incident. I was mortified, but each of them at their own point (around 2 years old) thought is was hilarious. They laughed and pointed and laughed some more. I got out the friggin' bleach and went to work on the e-coli.

Poor Magoo. She was more ashamed than I have ever seen her look. Of course, I immediately started saying "It's okay, baby, let's just clean it up." Well, actually, I said that right after I said "Wait. Stand real still. Don't move." It was about the size of a small cat turd (TMI!!!), so I got it with some tissue, flushed it, and then (without Magoo in the shower, of course, you silly CPS people) did the bleach clean up. She was very quiet this whole time, but I was having a hard time not jiggling...I mean giggling...that, too.

We dried off, got dressed, and went out to tell Bumpus. I told the story, while she continued to look sheepish. I gave her kisses and told her it was okay. Finally, she looked at me very sternly. She may have even raised her little chubby finger and wagged it at me a little. In a very annoyed tone, she finally spoke: "No more scare baby, mama. No BOO. Boo Baby POOP!"

This lecture continued for the next 10 minutes.

Four Punkins, One Dead Battery

Bad news:
Dumb Fatty went off and left the lights turned on in the Jeep. The battery was so dead that it didn't even make that clicking sound when I turned the key.

Good news:
Fatty realized this 30 minutes before school let out, enough time to get the stroller/child/drinks organized before taking the 3/4 mile walk to school to get all the people. The weather was outstanding, a perfect day. The people refrained from complaining. I must be reaping good karma. We stopped off at the pumpkin patch on the way home and picked out the huge orange mass you now see taking up the stroller. It probably weighs about 35 pounds. It rode home in the stroller, while Magoo rode on the foot plate up front. A very fine day.

I'm writing about this, so I can refer back to it in the midst of the screaming chaos that is my normal life.

Magoo's Halloween Review

"PUNKIN! YES PUNKIN IS MIIIIIINNNNNEEEEEUH. My punkin RIGHT NOW!"















"Ohhhhhh me yike dat scary. Yes. My scary."















"Uh Oh man boo boo. Bandaid Mama?"










"Silly moo cow."











"Me no yike. Scccccaaaaarrry. No take home. Bye bye scary."

I Love to Ride My BicycleI Love to Ride My BikeI Love to Ride My BicycleI Love to Ride It Where I Like

Disclaimer: Yes, she wears a helmet when we're moving.

Magoo Speaks Her Piece: #0000000000002

Another church adventure today. The first part is what all of us were saying in unison, and the bold print is what Magoo yelled at the end of the Lord's Prayer:

"...and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen. CHICKEN NUTS!"

Between a Rock and a Soft Place

Where there's a will, there's a way.
Lucy, a Jack Russell terrier/beagle
prefers Boomer Beagle to a hard rock
island in the FRIO RIVER. Makes
Yo Mama wanna take our Lucy and
head for the hills.

Was I Supposed to be able to Resist?

Girls at Work

Haiku Soup Review: Nile Spice Black Bean

Good taste, low-cal lunch
Half your fiber day
Air biscuit dessert

Frat Daddy in Training, Lesson #3: Spin and Finesse

For reference, the first teacher that contacted me about Rufus's behavior has not caused us any trouble since the letter...notice how I skillfully turned that around and made the issue *her* problem and not our (Rufus's mouth's) problem...that's called spin.

So tonight, I go through the Tuesday folder looking at the tons of worksheets that have been completed in the last school week. Grades are acceptable until I get to the 77 on the science homework. Rufus had completed the front page but did not see/complete the back. I showed it to him, told him that he had to be more careful, and said that he should complete it anyway...that I would write a note so the teacher would see that he had at least done the work. "She most likely won't give you any credit," I said, "but at least she will know that we cared."

Rufus immediately took the paper...PAUSE: Now, let's interject here that Rufus never does anything I ask on the first request--three, four, five requests, all with increasing volume and jes-tick-u-lashuns are required....BACK TO STORY: and he immediately sat down to fill it in. That took him only about 30 seconds, and I stood with my hand out waiting to take it back so I could write the note. However, he didn't even look up, much less give me the paper. He immediately set out to write his own note, shown in this photo.

Here is a translation:
"I wrote the answers hoping you might have mercy once for the bad grade. Love, thank you, Rufus. P.S. I'll keep my hopes up because you're nice." That's called Frat Daddy Finesse, 7-year-old style.

Wisdom of Rufus #926

We were at dinner with Yo Mama, stuffing ourselves silly on dee-vine Mexican food. Magoo was being her gregarious self, flirting with all the senior citizens sitting around us. A lady walked up to our table and said hi to Magoo, who announced that she is "TWO!" years old. At that, the lady turned to us, beaming, and said, "She is SO CUTE!" to which Rufus replied:

"Yea, she may look cute, but she's really vicious."

Magoo Speaks Her Piece: #0000000000001

I took the three kids to church this morning because I may go to hell for being irreverent, but I ain't going to hell for not teaching my kids about that ol' time religion. Without that background knowledge, how will they grow up to be irreverent, too???

We made it about 3/4 of the way through the service, in a very tiny, very old church with not enough people to mask the behavior of my own heathens, when Magoo started getting antsy. She had had enough and started stomping around, singing loudly, and generally being a distraction. I am good at hissing threats into a child's ear on occasions just such as this:

Fatty hissing to Magoo: "Sit down and be quiet or I'll take you outside for a swat."

Magoo, loudly: "Ou-siiiiide? Yes!"

Fatty the Snake into Magoo's ear: "But do you really want to go outside if that means you'll get a swat?"

Magoo: "Ou-side, yes! Schwat, okay."

I guess that is called having priorities.

Bye Bye IKE!

I am a firm believer in the intersection of karma, cosmic timing, and the-getting-of-what-you-desperately-need. Once again, this temporal voodoo has proven itself true:

6:10 PM: We arrive home to our town-without-power
6:13 PM: We go through the FEMA line to get two bags of ice
6:23 PM: Bumpus goes to get the kids from his parents
6:30 PM: I decide that I should do something productive with my last 45 minutes of light
6:31-6:55 PM: I clean out the icebox, wipe the whole thing down with soapy water, rinse all the shelves, door holder thingys, etc.
6:56 PM: I say this outloud--"Okay God, I finally cleaned out the nasty icebox. I know I should have done that months ago, but that brown dried stuff really creeped me out. You didn't have to send a hurrycane to get me to finally do this and all...well, yes, I guess it take a hurrycane or at least a big ol power outage to get me to do this. Okay, I see the era of my ways. Now I done what I shoulda done. Can we have some lights soon?"
7:15 PM: Bumpus arrives home with children and with a fabulous warm dinner, sent by his parents
7:16-7:45 PM: We eat, read the paper sitting outside in the last daylight and West-Nile-infected swarms of mosquitos, having a lovely and peaceful family time
7:55 PM: The neighbor knocks on our door: THE POWER IS ON!
7:56 PM: We throw all the breakers, and indeed, we have LIGHTS!
7:57-7:58 PM: I do a rather enthusiastic but somewhat uncoordinated and a little bit skanky "Thank the Ba'hai and the whole voodoo theory for working like it should!" dance in the driveway
8:00 PM: I run around to the neighbors telling them to turn off those noisy po-lutin generaters and light up!
8:05 PM: I realize that the street behind us, where all these neighbors live, doesn't actually have power yet
8:10 PM: I come back home and tell Bumpus, "Well, thank god we're on the better side of the power lines. I hope their lights come on soon, but in the meantime, they can have their generaters...I'm washing some of my laundry!"
8:15 PM: I put laundry in the washer on cold and dream of how long it will take the hot water heater to get revved up for my bath and then for the dishwasher full of crusty dishes that has been sitting there since last Friday night...
8:17 PM: It occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, they will have school tomorrow and I won't have to take all three children to my 11:30-1:30 lunch meeting at a non-kid-friendly restaurant. I am feeling giddy with relief!
8:18 PM: I sit down, check my email, and decide to write a blog posting about how my voodoo worked and life is good--except for those people behind us with the generaters
8:20 PM: The lights flicker twice and go back out.
Somewhere around 10:00 PM: We go to bed, still in no-power mode.
.
.
.
8:00 AM, Day 7: Magoo and I are laying in bed, the first time to get a full night's rest in 6 days. I listen to the electronic* church bells playing from downtown, through my open window...

*For those who have inhaled the dust from too much scoopable cat litter (among other things), that means that the town, as well as our house, had e-lec-tri-city.

Hurry-Friggin-Cane Update: Days 1-6

Signing off until (1) next Tuesday (Day 12) or (2) the power comes back on.

Day 6 (Wednesday):
Status: Still no power, but rumors that it may be restored by the weekend.
Activities: Last day at work for the week, because I must rescue the amazing in-laws from the wrath of my three school-less children. Very, very, very cold shower.
Attitude: Cheap white wine isn't so bad at room temperature.

Day 5 (Tuesday):
Status: Still no electricity. Web site says it will be restored by the 29th of this month (13 days).
Activities: Another day at work, then home to set up camping supplies (cooler, lantern, camping cook stove the size of a saucer...a tea saucer, you smart ass, not a flying saucer)
Attitude: WTH? Feeling at wits end.

Day 4 (Monday):
Status: Still no electricity. No word on when it might be restored, perhaps three weeks from now. Remnants of frozen food moved to very kind in-laws house. FEMA ice, water, and fruit received.
Activity: Leave three heathens with very kind in-laws, go to work. Back home, to light lantern, cook Ramen noodles on camping stove, and sleep in own bed.
Attitude: How am I supposed to get news or do any work without Internet access at home?

Day 3 (Sunday):
Status: At the very kind in-laws house, having cooked partial Fiesta Feast. No significant storm damage of any kind (we are too far inland).
Activity: Wondering how in Ba'hai's name the power could still be on way out in the country but not at our house in the big city.
Attitude: Confounded.

Day 2 (Saturday):
Status: Power goes out at 7 AM. It isn't even raining yet.
Activity: Diet out the window. Large bowl of beans and fritos for breakfast.
Attitude: Whatever.

Day 1 (Friday):
Status: Icebox full of beer, cheap wine, raw tortillas, fiesta feast supplies.
Activity: Put on large crock pot of pinto beans to cook overnight.
Attitude: I got laundry to do and a book to read. Bring on the rain and wind, Ikey

Don't worry Rufus.....

You will be a FINE Frat Daddy one day!!!!!

Now HERE'S a pig in lipstick!!!

Frat Daddy in Training, Lesson #2:Know When to Suck Up,Or, Alternatively,Know Where the Money Gets Made

He made it all of two and a half weeks before I got the email, just this past Thursday morning:

"Mrs. Fatty,
Just wanted to let you know that we have been having a few problems with Rufus talking during class. He has missed some recess time for talking, but it hasn't seemed to bother him. I had to get on to him again this morning. So I thought I would let you know. He was a little bit upset when I told him I was going to email you.
Thanks,
Annoyed Teacher Lady"

After a friendly little conversation with me, Rufus sat himself upon a chair to compose an apology letter to his annoyed teacher. Here is what it said:

"Dear Mrs. Teacher,
I am sorry that I talked when I wasn't supposed to. I understand that when I do that I stop you from teaching, I stop other people from learning, I am rude, and I don't let you make the money you need. I will try harder not to interupt.
Love,
Rufus"

IF I WERE EVER TO GET A TATTOO.........

THIS WOULD BE IT!!!!!!

September 2008

Pony?
Pink Wii?
Personal chef?
80 lb. bag of M&M's?
Pink Ferrari?
Big ass hairy spider from the grocery store?
Whatever you want. I will give it to you.

10 Ways to Prepare for the Hurry-cane, East Texus Style

1. Buy supplies:
-- fresh package of uncooked flour tortillas*
-- butter
-- lard
-- corn tortillas
-- cheddar cheese
-- dried chili peppers
-- cumin seed
-- pinto beans
-- pinto bean seasoning
-- stew meat
-- tomato paste
-- propane for the portable grill so we can still have a fiesta after the power goes out
-- 12 pack of super-gi-normous rolls of toilet paper
-- milk
-- poptarts
*This is serious business. We have started cooking our own flour tortillas and if we run out in the midst of a feeding frenzy, we're going to have mayhem and probably some attempted murder.
(Purchased.)

2. Make sure box of cheap white wine has plenty remaining in it.
(Yes, it does.)

3. Mow the yard.
(Done.)

4. Secure all the trash next to the neighbor's fence, so when the 65 mph winds blow, it will go into their yard.
(Done.)

5. Charge the porteeball DVD player to entertain the kids when the power goes out.
(Can't find the cord.)

6. Steam clean the rugs.
(Huh?)

7. Remove old couch from front porch.
(But where will I sleep?)

8. Put flotation device on diablo dog so he can float to higher ground.
(Still considering whether floating or sinking is my preferred option.)

9. Buy one huge hairy spider.
(Done.)

10. Make sure spider purchased in #7 is new security object for your 2 year old.
(Done.)

When I grow up........

or perhaps in my next life, I
wanna be a DOG with no
responsibilities except to eat
and sometimes pee outside
and sometimes pee inside.
Y.M.

This says it all.........

The Mustangs beat the Seminole Indians real good .... but the real star of the
show was the Mustang Band with Matthew front and center. An evening to
remember, for sure!

Let's End This Train Wreck on a Sweet Note

It's not in focus, but it sure is cute.
For the record, "ice cream" is currently pronounced as "chi-crim" and her father has taught her to spray air-o-soll Readiwhip straight into her open bird mouth.

Those sun glasses are mine from college, purchased at the Goodwill in downtown Austin.

Bumpus and I Had a Very Nice Vacation

Photos are here.

Frat Daddy in Training, Lesson #1: Keep Your Boots On

Rufus went to a slumber party last weekend. He has been on sleepovers before, but I think this may have been the first actual slumber party. The birthday boy was a year older, turning 9, but he and his younger brother like Rufus and Boudreaux, so both were invited.

The swar-aay was a camp out in the backyard of some folks who have a house near the road and a big pasture out back. I think there were about 7 boys there, along with a grandmother, teenage brother, and the two parents.

When I arrived Sunday morning to pick them up, the Mom ran up and pulled me over to the side:

Worried Mom: "I hope you won't think we're bad parents or anything. We had no idea it was going on."

Fatty: "Huh?"

WM: "Well, they were playing in the tent. The adults were on the porch, just 20 feet away, but thought they were just talking."

F: "Okay?"

WM: "But apparently they were playing Truth or Dare, and your younger one chose dare."

F: "How do you know?"

WM:..."Well, because the adults were just on the porch chatting and we looked up and Rufus was running across the cow pasture..."

F: "Yeah?"

WM: "...stark naked except for his boots..."

F: "Huh?"

WM: "...and he was screaming, 'I FEEL THE FREEDOM!'"

School Supply Shopping & Fatty's Proclamation for August 2008

When they invent a license for parenting, one that you have to earn before they let you make babies, one of the things that should be part of the test is letting the potential parent loose in a busy grocery store after a long day of work at 5:30 PM on a weekday about 3 days before public schools start with a limited budget and school supply lists for both 3rd and 5th grades, each written in 7 point, single spaced font. If the person can't complete the test by (1) getting everything (accurate products) on the list, (2) staying within the budget, and (3) finishing in less than 30 minutes, then that person should be sterilized.

Fatty's Proclamation for August 2008: Anyone who is overwhelmed to the point of getting dizzy on the salad dressing aisle shouldn't be allowed to go school supply shopping (or have children).

Thankfully, I scooted through and made my babies before this test was instituted.

After spending over $70 on things like (this is just a sample)...

• 70 (yes, SEVEN-TEE) #2 pencils,
  
• 2 large pink erasers and 8 pencil top erasers (all for only one child?!?),
  
• zippered baggies (I was instructed to buy HEFTY or ZIPLOC ONLY but guess what? Those were over $3 per box, my gas bill last month was over $650, the store brand of baggies with zippers were $1 a box, so can you figure out what I bought?),
  
• two 2" binders that zip (hello? all they had was 1 3/4" binders that zip? is a quarter inch really that important? did a man write this list?),
• four packages of CRAYOLA brand markers, two big and two little, all for one child (again, the store brand was on sale for 50 cents each and the Crayola brand was $3.59 each...GUESS WHAT I BOUGHT?),
  
• and 3 four-ounce bottles of glue (again, for one child...why not just one larger size?),

...I decided that I deserved a prize all for myself. I pondered buying some liquid paper to sniff or some rubber cement to inhale but was so exhausted by that point that I couldn't figure out where the adult school supplies were located.

I Shaved the Cat

Fatty's Observation #95: Life of Pee

One of them wet the bed.
One of them peed on my bed.
One of them had a bloody nose in the bed.
One of them has a cat who thinks the bed is its bed.

Then it occurs to me...about the time I am finished washing other peoples' pee out of the sheets, I will be so old that it will be time for me to start washing my own pee out of the sheets again...

Considering that a big trend nowadays is for adult children to move back home with their parents, I need to start drafting my list of house rules, for when I'm 90 and my 50 year old children move back in with me.

Rule #1: Wash your own pee out of the sheets. And while you're at it, wash my pee sheets, too.

Wisdom (?) of Rufus #904

Rufus and the school nurse proclaimed yesterday that he had a double ear infection. So I dutifully made a doctor's appointment today, loaded up the sick 2-year old (cold, allergies, something snotty), got the boys out of school, and drove the 45 minutes (cost in gas, round trip = ~$15) to the clinic. We were all p.o.ed because even though we were 20 minutes early, they called us to go to the exam room immediately. This meant two things:

1. We got robbed of valuable time playing with the little bead roller coaster table things and other fine wooden toys which harbor the infectious germs of the thousands of drooling, sneezing, spitting, and squirting children.

AND

2. We got to sit in the exam room, which has no toys, no books, no nothing except electrical outlets and very thin walls so that everyone around us can hear the chaos my three offspring are causing...for THIRTY-FIVE MINUTES while we waited on the doctor.

Ah, but I digress...

Before entering the toyless exam room sweatbox, Rufus got the standard weight, temperature, drug use, and hat size prep work interview. There we stood, with two other multi-child families, around the scale and thermometer station, with three nurses aids, all being ushered through the procedures. Rufus got weighed. The nurse asked if he was on any medications. I resisted the urge to answer, "no, but could you sneak me some happy pills from the sample supply?" She took his temperature. Amidst all the activity, she asked me, "Is he allergic to any medicines?" To which I quietly answered "Keflex." Quietly, I say, because there was plenty of other chatty noise in the 6-foot circle that all three families and aides were sharing.

Because I was trying to be unobtrusive, she didn't hear me. "I'm sorry?" she said. I opened my mouth to repeat myself, and at that very moment, one of those coincidental lulls fell over the crowd. And as if on cue, Rufus, in his best hog-calling siren of a voice announced,

"I AM ALLERGIC TO CATHOLICS."

(Yes, after a moment of hang-time during which all eyes looked at Rufus and then at me, everyone over the age of 12 started laughing (thankfully). No, Rufus did not have any ear infections.)

Big Day: First Full Sentence

Magoo said her first official fully formed sentence this morning at 7 AM:
"Daddy is a big girl, too."

Fatty Confesses: "I Go Yap"

I made my 2-year old daughter, who was screaming her lungs out (in anger) and trying to pinch/punch her brothers, run two laps around the house. Such punishment is doled out based on age (10 year olds run 10 laps). She, however, pronounces an "L" as a "Y," so the whole time she was jogging/walking/picking flowers, she was yelling, "I go yap, Mama! I go yap!"

The New Dysfunctional Family Past Time: Bowling

After significant training on Wii Bowling, we decided that we were ready to turn pro, so we headed to the local bowling alley. The first game, I threw 12 gutter balls. Bumpus did a little better, and the kids used bumpers--rails that pop up and prevent the ball from going in the gutter. Our first two games, Magoo came in second and Boudreaux came in first. I came in last.

We had so much fun that we went back again last weekend. Magoo discovered the hotline phone to the front desk. Here are some photos from the second official DF Bowlathon.

Magoo cannot life even the lightest ball, so a brave brother carries up to the lane and she shoves it off. You can see the bumpers up on the sides of the lane.

Dammit! I was robbed!
What's bowling without proper tantrum throwing?

Hey Mr. Man on the hotline phone. Send a bucket o' beer to lane #2!

Wisdom of Rufus #730

Magoo fell out of bed the other night and hit her forehead on the night table. Ouch. She had a bruise over her right eye. At soccer that night, everyone was asking us what happened. Rufus got tired of all that and finally started yelling...

"She fell out of bed! So what? Love hurts!"

Feeding Children 1, 2, 3

Child #1: Breakfast is good for you and entertaining.
Home-made pancakes with blueberries for a smile, fresh cut apples, milk.
You are precious and the heart of the universe.

Child #2: Breakfast is good for you.
Lower sugar Froot loops, closed properly in the pantry so they are not stale, and milk.
Sit still and learn your manners.

Child #3: You get what you get and you don't throw a fit.
M&M's and fritos mixed in one bowl, as requested.
If you're going to hit your brother, then use your hand only...no brass knuckles.

The Very Au-dast-ityof it all!

I am hear 2 tell U that The Kaptain has overstepped his bounds and rites as The Self Proclaimed Supervisor With No Boundaries As To What Law He Mite Declare As The Rule Of This House On The Hill In The Western Hills.
Y.M. hates to git N-2 personal body function reports, but I must say first that at THIS house the little terlet near the kitchen is the arena of Y.M. x-cept she do share the shower on the occasion that T.K, desides he mite B N need of washing off.
This very a.m. I took to my private dumping grounds and, as I said I DO hate body function testimonials, but I did have "a time" whilst in my little private room. The issue N-volved excessive use of white paper which was dutifully put into The Bowl and the flusher flushed. Didn't all go down. So Y.M. went to the private area for dumpin assigned to T.K. and retrieved the plunger and dis-cretely snuck it through the house and put it to good use in the endangered plumbing facility. When nice klean water returned, Y.M. left the plunger there, a sittin in it to give it a good soaking in something clear of color and more sanitaree than the previous offering. I went on about my business. In bout an hour T.K. marched up and said I wuz not to use that inferior terlet N-E more when the facility in the other area was much more Modren, Dependable, Comfortable and Flushable. Then followed a lecture as to when to flush the first time, what 2-do next, then when to flush again and follow up proceedure. Now, I found myself speechless. Here I am at age 70 B-N told what terlet to use.
I got so steamed up that the temperature and humidity in this waterfront location, which I paid for, rose up to all time highs. PTL, and pardon me pls for bringing the Lord into this, but I will sit and dump where I please and it jest suits me finest if I am the onlee one asitting in there because I know at all times that the place is cleaner and more well kept than the local gas station facility, if you git my drift. Whew! Now may-B I can sleep tonite. Iffin T. K. don't watch his oral offerings, he may have 2 hit the road un-til he learns who is the boss of This House.The End.