I Heard the Funniest Story the Other Day

David and I were discussing toilet bowl cleaners* and I mentioned the 2000 Flushes kind that we had used. David, who knows a joke or a story for just about every subject, told me this hilarious anecdote:

"My friend Billy's** parents got that 2000 Flushes to use in their toilet. Billy thought it meant that after 2000 flushes the toilet would stop working, so he kept count every time someone flushed the toilet.

I went over to hang out with Billy one day, and I found him out taking a dump in his front yard. 'Billy! What in the world are you doing?'

His reply was simple: 'We only have two flushes left on our toilet and I want to save them for my mom and dad when they get home from work.'

I couldn't believe it. He could have at least gone in the back yard!"

*We are apparently not the only people to have this discussion, though ours was much more cost efficient than this.

**Not his real name; there are people reading this who know this kid, and if they ever see him again, I don't want them to mention this and possibly embarrass him.

Mine Mine Mine!

I had the privilege to substitute in the nursery in church yesterday. It was pretty wild. There were about 9 kids (11 including mine) and only two adults. I think every single kid in there cried at least once. And by cry, I mean scream and have a fit. My lovely kids, of course, cried a lot more than once. In their defense, they were really tired and I think they were a little scared of the "big kids" (the kids in nursery range from 18 months to 3 years old). Drew and Owen had their toys stolen, and their eyes poked. I felt a little bad subjecting them to all that, so I had David come in and take them to class with him. I guess they're just not ready for nursery. But in 5 months, they definitely will be and they will go, and they will like it.

I have been thinking for a while that I need to start watching what I say around the boys. I guess I should just watch what I say in general, but for now I'll just work on being more careful in front of Drew and Owen. Anyway. These thoughts of mine were confirmed by a little something I witnessed in nursery. Suzy and Sally* were coloring and Suzy asked me to write the ABC's on her paper. I was happy to oblige. While I was writing, Sally told me that she knows how to write the letter 'M' and some other letters. She was happily rattling off a list of letters, but the more she said, the madder Suzy got until finally Suzy yelled, "Shut up! Just shut up!" I was a little surprised and appalled at the same time (I've never really liked that phrase). I told Suzy, "We don't say 'shut up;' it's not polite. What would be a better way to ask Sally to stop talking?" To which Suzy innocently replied, "Daddy says 'shut up.'" I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing and I still giggle at the thought of the whole "shut up" outburst. But I just hope my kids don't say something less-than-favorabe and tell people at church they heard it from me.

*Names have been changed in case by some odd stroke of luck their parents are reading my blog...

You Get it Meat-o!

My younger brother, Kevin*, is staying the night at our place tonight. He's on his way home, and our house is halfway between where he was and where he's going, so it's quite logical that he stay here. It's lots of fun, too. Kevin really looks up to David; he's like another big brother, and Kevin is the little brother David never had.
Kevin joined David in his daily exercise routine today. I think the goal is for David to be able to dunk a basketball (he's only 5'10" but I guess he was pretty close to being able to dunk at some point...). So they did jumping jacks and other kinds of exercises to help David get his vertical leap back. Then, they played fetch with Vito. This was the most entertaining part of the evening for me. Vito tires of playing fetch rather quickly, but he likes to get his energy out by running up and down stairs. He goes from the top floor all the way down to the basement and back to the top again (it's a 3 level house).
So Vito's running around the house, and Merle (the cat) thinks this is great, 'cause now he can chase Vito. And Kevin just wants to play fetch still, so he's throwing the ball and yelling to Vito, but getting mixed up and a little hyper, and he yells, "You get it, Meato!" Drew and I were just watching and laughing.
And as boring as that story was for everyone else, it was the most exciting part of my weekend.
We did get to go to relatives' in King Hill, and that was fun; David's family is very friendly and nice, which is good. I always feel bad for people who don't get along with the in-laws. As if marriage isn't hard enough already. I especially like that the relatives ooh and ahh over Drew and Owen (They were entertained with Drew because when he eats he makes this noise: MmmmmmMMmmmmmMMmmmMMMmmmm the entire time he has food in his mouth. Then he yells and screams until you give him more, then he goes back to MmmmMMMmmmmmMmm). So we gorged ourselves on turkey, potatoes and pie. And of course, that's always fun, so I guess it was a pretty good weekend.

*I guess the story is a little more interesting if you know Kevin. He's 19, and autistic, so mentally he's maybe 3 or 4 years old. He's not very high functioning; he can dress himself, but often gets his clothes on backward and his shoes on the wrong feet. Almost everyone who meets Kevin loves him to pieces; he's funny and kind--just an all-around cool kid.

Soap Box of the Week

I'm not sure to whom I should direct the wrath of my post today: stores or customers. As I ponder it, customers win. Or lose, depending on how you look at it... I realize there are a shortage of cart returns in some store parking lots and some of them are tricky to get to with all the other cars around, but how lazy are people that they can't walk a dozen yards and put their carts away? I'm not the kind of person to circle a parking lot looking for the closest spot. Any spot will do. But whether it's close to the store or not, nothing irks me more than finally finding an open spot, going to pull into it, and discovering that there is a shopping cart in the middle of said spot. The person who couldn't make the effort to put it away deserves to spend a night in jail. I also get ticked when I come out of the store and some idiot put their cart right next to my car instead of walking all the way over to the cart corral. Oh. And those people that pull slowly into the stall with the offending cart and gently bump it into surrounding cars, jail time for them, too. So the point of all this is, put your carts in the provided cart corrals! It doesn't take that much time, and you* could probably use the exercise anyway.

And now for Topic Number Two: If you see a sign like the following it means that 35 miles per hour is not an appropriate speed. If you are about to merge onto a road labeled with such a sign, speed up! You generally need to be going at least 55 miles per hour, sometimes up to 75. There are little lengths of road called "On-Ramps" the purpose of which is to allow people time to gain speed to travel on such a road as I-15. So push your gas pedal to the floor and get with it! If you don't feel comfortable going that fast, let someone drive who does.


*I'm using the indefinite form of the word "you" so don't anyone go feel all bad or singled out. Everyone needs exercise, no matter who they are or what they look like.

Go Have a Good Read

http://www.brianregan.com/experience-writings-2.html

This story cracked me up. I'm sure hitting a deer is a traumatic experience and all, but Brian Regan's such a great story teller; I felt both the trauma and the humor. And read the one about the fat guy on the bus, too. It has a surprise ending.
So what are you still reading this blog for? Go click on the link.

Like So Many Frumpy Housewives

My blog needed a makeover. So I gave it some new colors and font, and a new layout. Pretty snazzy, eh?
I hope not to offend anyone with the title of this post. If you consider yourself frumpy, or a housewife, or both, it's ok. Embrace who you are. I personally rarely deny being a frumpy housewife. And I certainly think I need a makeover. I really want to go on 'Extreme Makeover' or 'What Not To Wear' but David won't let me. I don't understand why he would pass up an opportunity for me to get clothes for which he does not have to pay. And all we'd have to do to get said clothes is let America see me at my worst. It's almost too easy!
I actually like doing some of the housewife-y stuff; I like cooking--though it would be nice to be able to cook something besides meat and potatoes. But I cook what David likes. I've also done quite a bit of sewing. I hemmed up some pants for Ace , and I'm working on some squares for a little family quilt project some cousins and I are doing. I also made those Halloween costumes my boys wore. So I keep myself pretty occupied.
But don't worry about me being overworked; like any good housewife, I make sure to leave time for watching Soaps and eating BonBons.

Like the Wind

Yep, that's how I run; if by 'wind' I mean something more like 'glue.' I'm trying to get back in shape. Lose that baby fat. Not from when I was a baby, but from having babies, of course. So I'm trying to go running (in the cold--treadmills are boring) and I think I'm going to get a gym membership and take an aerobics class. I guess I'd better go shopping. I need some Reebok high-tops, some spandex leggings, a cute little leotard, and, oh yes, leg warmers!! That'll be just the motivation I need. Well, ok, maybe that's over the top. I skip everything but the leg warmers.

Vito's Arch Nemesis

Jealousy, jealousy. We got a little cat last Saturday. His name is Merle. We got him in hopes that he and Vito would be friends (and maybe Merle could convince Vito that rummaging through the garbage and eating it is not such a good idea). So far, no such luck. Turns out Vito has a bit of a mean streak that is brought out by his bit of jealous streak. Merle is not shooed off the furniture like Vito is. Merle fits on David's and Heather's laps and Vito does not. Drew and Owen don't poke Merle's eyes like they do Vito's (this has more to do with the fact that Drew and Owen are more coordinated than they used to be, combined with the fact that Vito no longer goes near them unless they have food). Then Merle had the audacity to sniff Vito's food dish and take a couple Kibbles and a few Bits. *gasp!* Or maybe it was more like *snarl-growl-hissss-reeeeerr-bark-bark-run-around-the-living-room-scattering-books-every-which-way-fur-flying-Heather-yelling-Vito-getting-put-outside-for-the-afternoon* Today has been rumble free, so far. I think Vito and Merle both realize that neither of them are going anywhere, and there is plenty of food for everyone. But they still keep their distance:

Dhis and Dhah

...I pretend "dhis" means "What's this?" and "dhah" means "What's that?" when in reality, I could be way off. But it's a fun game Drew is learning how to play. He points at a picture or something (with all five fingers or sometimes just his thumb and index; he's not coordinated enough to use just the index finger) and he yells "dhis!" so I tell him, "That's a picture of Drew" (or whatever the picture is really of, get it?). There he is, on the left, "pointing" and yelling, "Dhah!"
I've also discovered that if Drew is throwing a tantrum, I can sometimes distract him by pointing at something and asking, "Drew, what's that?" Then he'll point and say, "Dhah!" But more recently, Drew has been turning the tables and using the game to distract me. For example, I'll say, "Drew, come over here so we can put your jacket on." Drew will respond by pointing furiously and yelling, "Dhis! Dhah!" and not coming to get his jacket. Clever, clever boy.
On an unrelated note, but while we're speaking of being clever: If you were a dog, and someone told you to get into one of these two cars, which one would you try to jump into? That's what I'd think. The red one. But yesterday when Dave called, "Vito! Hop up!" Vito ran straight past Dave and the open tailgate and lept with great fervor onto the closed trunk of the Toyota. He then proceeded to scramble and scratch my paint, trying to figure out why he didn't fit. In Vito's defense, though, we usually park the Toyota on the left and the Honda on the right, so he probably knew from memory how many leaps and bounds he had to make from the yard to the back of the Honda. It just wasn't there. And even though the value of my little green car, the first car I ever owned, has been drastically reduced, I keep giggling at the thought of big ol' Vito flying through the air and landing on that trunk and looking very confused.

Some Halloween Pictures Just Two Days Late

I finally got the picture upload tool to work so here are the afore promised pictures.



Owen is a soccer ball,

Drew is a football.

I dressed up as Chris Farley's Lunch Lady.

Dave had eyeballs painted on his eyelids.

These are the eyeballs up close.
I'm not sure what else to say about this...

Happy November

Another Halloween has come and gone. I remember now why I don't really like Halloween. Trick-or-Treaters make me feel insincere; I always feel like I have to comment on their costume, even if I don't think it's very good. And it bugs me that kids get mad if you don't give them "good candy" as if there is such a thing as "bad candy." Hey. If you're going door to door begging for candy, you take what you get and you say thanks.
My friend Jack put it this way: Halloween is extortion. Little kids are guilty of extortion! They say "Trick-or-Treat!" but what they really mean is "Give me some candy or I'll egg your house! This looks like a rough neighborhood and you need some insurance. I think a Snickers bar ought to do it."
But I guess everything went well; we dressed up, handed out candy, ate much of said candy, and our house didn't get egged.
And because I know everyone wants to see pictures, here they are:
[blast that technology that I love. The "system" is currently "down". I'll post some pics later. Click the link, and wait a few seconds.]