I just finished Second Dinner. I'd like to thank the Hobbits for giving a name to the fourth meal of my day. Having Second Dinner has become a regular occurance between 9 and 10pm on most nights. InUtero Boy is growing at an alarming rate and has the kick of a small horse. I don't know if he's punching or kicking my bladder. In some ways I hope he's punching it because it would mean he's still head down. In other ways I hope that's a kick, because if it's a fist he's going to be stronger than Hercules on a heavey dose of steroids.
"Newton! Apply some acne medication on my back, quickly!"
A big shout-out to my friend, Mrs. Wailing, who turned 21 for the seventh time today! I went to see her this morning and let Gutsy steal Wailing Junior's toys on a couple of occasions. I did that because I figured she should move off the couch or face getting bedsores. You know how old people get them when they're not very mobile. I was just trying to help.
Speaking of old, it's time for my least favourite part of my recent posts:
Countdown to Oldness: 14 days.
There. I'm glad that's done with.
Today I received a gift certificate for a very lovely spa, courtesy of maw n' paw n' law! It entitles me to breakfast followed by two treatments of my choice. Now is the time when I'd really like to be high class enough to know what to choose. I'm in desperate need of a pedicure, so that will be priority numero uno (if you don't know what I just said, The Madre can translate it for you. She's a Spanish goddess, after all). Then I was considering a massage, but my nails could use some work... I just don't know enough about the good life. I'm so used to playing my banjo and admiring people's teeth that I ain't got the time for that fancy city slicker stuff. Fetch mama's pryin' bar, will you 'Trepid? That's a good boy.
The in-laws are in town for the folk festival. As promised, I am showing enormous restraint when it comes to jabs at their expense. Maw-in-law tried to bait me into it over the phone, if you can believe it. Trying to find my weak spot, I tell you! However, she hadn't realized that the spa gift certificate had arrived in the mail just a couple of hours earlier, so I had something tangible to hold on to while I bit my tongue and winced the urge to poke fun at them away. We're meeting them tomorrow morning for breakfast and may attend the old fogg... *ahem*, the folk festival for a while afterwards.
Tomorrow is also my daddy's birthday. It's birthday central around here lately. I can't keep track. Then again, I've been putting boxes of cereal in the fridge and milk in the cupboard lately, too, so this isn't surprising. My solar panels are facing North, if you know what I mean. I'd like to blame pregnancy, but I really think I have gone permanently stupid. There's no turning back now. Maybe I'll just blame my children anyway. It's easier to point fingers at people who won't need therapy for another few years. Hopefully by then I'll be a bestselling author (please stop rolling your eyes - it's not good for you) and I can afford the very best care for their resentments. Parents should always think ahead.
Time for my bath. I have a date with a good book. It's a good book because I didn't write it. I blog instead. It wastes no paper and it can be easily deleted.
In fact, no trees were harmed in the making of this blog. However, one Google crawler was killed trying to make its way through the rubbish I post on a daily basis.
"Newton! Apply some acne medication on my back, quickly!"
A big shout-out to my friend, Mrs. Wailing, who turned 21 for the seventh time today! I went to see her this morning and let Gutsy steal Wailing Junior's toys on a couple of occasions. I did that because I figured she should move off the couch or face getting bedsores. You know how old people get them when they're not very mobile. I was just trying to help.
Speaking of old, it's time for my least favourite part of my recent posts:
Countdown to Oldness: 14 days.
There. I'm glad that's done with.
Today I received a gift certificate for a very lovely spa, courtesy of maw n' paw n' law! It entitles me to breakfast followed by two treatments of my choice. Now is the time when I'd really like to be high class enough to know what to choose. I'm in desperate need of a pedicure, so that will be priority numero uno (if you don't know what I just said, The Madre can translate it for you. She's a Spanish goddess, after all). Then I was considering a massage, but my nails could use some work... I just don't know enough about the good life. I'm so used to playing my banjo and admiring people's teeth that I ain't got the time for that fancy city slicker stuff. Fetch mama's pryin' bar, will you 'Trepid? That's a good boy.
The in-laws are in town for the folk festival. As promised, I am showing enormous restraint when it comes to jabs at their expense. Maw-in-law tried to bait me into it over the phone, if you can believe it. Trying to find my weak spot, I tell you! However, she hadn't realized that the spa gift certificate had arrived in the mail just a couple of hours earlier, so I had something tangible to hold on to while I bit my tongue and winced the urge to poke fun at them away. We're meeting them tomorrow morning for breakfast and may attend the old fogg... *ahem*, the folk festival for a while afterwards.
Tomorrow is also my daddy's birthday. It's birthday central around here lately. I can't keep track. Then again, I've been putting boxes of cereal in the fridge and milk in the cupboard lately, too, so this isn't surprising. My solar panels are facing North, if you know what I mean. I'd like to blame pregnancy, but I really think I have gone permanently stupid. There's no turning back now. Maybe I'll just blame my children anyway. It's easier to point fingers at people who won't need therapy for another few years. Hopefully by then I'll be a bestselling author (please stop rolling your eyes - it's not good for you) and I can afford the very best care for their resentments. Parents should always think ahead.
Time for my bath. I have a date with a good book. It's a good book because I didn't write it. I blog instead. It wastes no paper and it can be easily deleted.
In fact, no trees were harmed in the making of this blog. However, one Google crawler was killed trying to make its way through the rubbish I post on a daily basis.