Window Shopping

My son, giving new meaning to the term "Window Shopping".




Pedaling up and down the isles, dreaming .


This is the kind of fun play date you get to have with your mom, on a lazy, rainy afternoon, when the fundage is left out in the car...and you have exchanged pinky promises that there will be no melt downs when you come to the startling realization that your mom was dead serious when she said that there would be no purchasing of toys today.


Ahhh. Good times.

You Are Only As Old As You Feel...

...or at least as old as you remember you are.

I was recently forced to celebrate a birthday. I have not been what you would call "gracious" about having to become "this age". This "f-word" birthday has not been such an easy pill to swallow. Thanks again, to all of you well-wishers and condolence-offerers. Your sympathy is much appreciated. I especially want to thank the one who felt the need to bestow Icy Hot and Colon Cleanser upon me. THAT'S going to help the cause. Not going to make me feel old...at all. And just to show you what a good sport I am, I am going to USE the colon cleanser. Ha! How do you feel about THAT!?

My fabulous, six and a half year old son was right beside me, showing me his undying support on my day of grief. It also happened to be his half-birthday. To commemorate the blessed event, he ate six and a half pancakes. I ate...three.

To further show his firm grasp on my reality, my handsome son gave me some sound advice. During the car ride to his baseball game tonight, he exclaimed,

"Oh, my gosh! I TOTALLY forgot you are f**** today! I can't believe it! Can you believe it?"

I tried to summon my mature f**** year old side to respond. I couldn't find her. Instead, I whined and replied,

"No! It KILLS me to even think about being f****!"

My wise-one replied,

"Well then...don't. Okay? Just don't THINK about being f****. Maybe that will make you feel better. Okay?"

Okay, Son. Works for me. And maybe I can get the reverse to work while I'm at it.

I'm only 28...I'm only 28...I'm only 28...I'm only 28

When Will They LEARN!!

I think that it is very safe to say that this will be the most beautiful picture that you will see all day.





There. Hope it MAKES your day.


Let me explain.


The picture doesn't completely show that I have three, perfectly spaced burns on the inside of both my lower, and upper lips. What would be your guess as to how I ended up with such perfect imperfections on my face?




A fork.


'Cause I have brain damage.


On Sunday, we had a hankerin' for some S'Mores. Being the Sabbath and all, we "toasted" our marshmallows in a more conservative manner. On forks...over a gas burner. Worked like a charm.


We know now why they make the end of marshmallow toasting sticks look so unappealing. You try and resist the urge to suck the ooey, gooey, marshmallow-y goodness, dripping off the end of a fork.


Can't do it.


I grimaced through the electric shock of the searing tines on my lips. I made not even a peep. Just kept right on eating my ghetto S'More.


What makes this story even more painfully funny? Not even three minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, I see Jeff jump out of his seat and grab his glass of ice water.


Told ya.


Can't resist the fork.