Another week ending

Mary had a thermometer in her mouth.  When it beeped she pulled it out and announced, “48 inches!”


It would be much easier to be a saint if people would stop irritating me.  Billy’s Cub Scout Pack has been promising for several weeks that potluck assignments for the Blue and Gold Banquet would be given out by den.  The banquet is tomorrow.  I got the email this morning, sent late last night.  I wasn’t planning on going to the store today. 


Mary really wants me to go and watch Barney with her.  Yeah, me.  This is the best I can do for a blog post today.

Homemade Valentines

Fritz, my boy
You are half a man
Omelets you make
In a pan
Soon you will be
Taller than me
Fi fi fiddle dum
Fiddle dum dee.


Oh my Billy
My sweet, my sweet
When you walk by
The birds do tweet
The sun does shine
And life seems grand
Especially when you
Hold my hand


O Kate
You do so rate
High in my esteem.
You help me cook
You help me bake
And you help me clean.


My daughter Jenny
Doesn’t cluck like a hen-ny
We didn’t name her Benny
‘Cause she’s a girl.
She has big green eyes
She is quite a prize
But she doesn’t wear ties
‘Cause she’s a girl.


Peter Peter
Gumbo spice
Come over here
And kiss me twice
Once on this cheek
Once on that
Now I’m happy
How ’bout that!


Mary, my little cutie pie
If you were sad, then I would cry
Usually, though, you’re very happy
Especially when you’ve had a nap-py.

Just rambling

Despite having taught 3 children the poem, The Duel, it is only on my fourth child that I really “get” the line The Chinese Plate looked very blue.

Maybe I’m just feeling punchy, but that line has me LOLing.


I was trying to help a friend out by watching her baby so she could have a break.  When I started mentioning weekend times, she hemmed and hawed and finally said that another friend was trying to help my husband out by watching my kids so we could have a date.  She made me promise to act surprised.

Then the babysitting friend complains that my husband hasn’t called her to arrange the date, but I’m supposed to be surprised.

Last night, talking to my husband, I mentioned that my friend told me to tell him to call her.

“Do you know why?” he asked.

I paused to think how best to answer that question.

“Why?” I responded.

He then told me all about the possible date. 

I wondered if he was going to ask me to act surprised.


I found a great way to save money at the grocery store: get there 10 minutes before closing time.  You will only buy what you absolutely have to.

Unfortunately, milk, butter, flour, sugar, a few boxes of cereal (with coupons), and canned tomatoes for Saturday’s chili will still cost you nearly $75.


Speaking of grocery stores, several weeks ago, I was in the produce section of our local store at the same time that they were having some sort of meeting.  As the meeting was wrapping up, someone said “Gimme a K!” and the employees said “K!”

“Gimme a R!”


“Gimme a O!”


I thought I would die of embarrassment on behalf of these adults.  But the worst was yet to come as they concluded their cheer:

“Gimme a GRRRRRR!”

I don’t think adults should have to growl like a wild animal in public, do you?


I’m so glad the weekend is here.

Not ready to take on the day

Lying in bed in an early morning haze, I ask myself, “Is it Friday or Saturday?”

Saturday?  Please, oh, please, oh please?  Please let it be Saturday.

It’s too early to think, but I force myself:  “Was yesterday Thursday or Friday?”

It had to be Friday if today is Saturday.

“What did I do yesterday?  School…”

You do school on Fridays!

“Isn’t that noise Bill’s alarm clock?”

No, no, you’re only dreaming…

“If that’s his alarm clock, it can’t be Saturday.  It must be Friday.”



Love hurts

Amazing how happy a man can be when his favorite team wins.


When doing our Saturday cleaning, I finally threw away a branch of old shriveled mistletoe my husband had plucked from a tree in our yard.  He had mounted it above the kitchen sink.

When I saw it there, I asked, “Do you really need that as an excuse?”


Two years ago, I bought my husband a shotgun.

Back in November, he bought me ear protection.  We never did go out shooting, though.  I think he got sick.

Finally, yesterday morning, we went to a shooting range and fired that gun for the first time.  He shot skeet, and used up most of the one box of ammo we brought.  Fritz had baseball tryouts in the early afternoon, so we had only a bit of time left.  My husband offered to buy more ammo, but I thought the two shots left would be enough for this time.  I just wanted to know how to load and fire the gun.

If you’ve never shot before, the people showing you how to load the gun, chamber a round, keep your finger on the side until you’re ready to fire, place the butt in the pocket between your arm and torso, keep both eyes open and your cheek against the stock, and line the target up with the sight, might fail to mention that you have to put most of your weight on your front foot.

Just so you know, if you don’t do that, you might fall over backwards.

I managed to catch myself, but, boy, what a kick.

And, that pocket between the arm and the torso where you placed the butt of the gun?  The same force that wants to throw you backward is also exerted on your shoulder there.  I only shot two rounds, but I can feel them today.  Not sure I want to shoot an entire box.  Ouch.


Is it Monday again already?  I’m trying to figure out what time I should make my happy Packers fans get out of bed.  It’s events like these that make me want to live on the West Coast.