The next time a certain horrible little creature makes a mess that results in me to having to use the washing machine, the carpet cleaner and the bathtub, all before breakfast, she’ll be sorry.
She may look smart, but it’s just an act.
*I suppose not, but I would give one a very stern talking to. Very stern!
And I might neglect to rub a belly, no matter how pleadingly it presents itself.
Why is it that some girls think Halloween is a good excuse to change from normal, family-lovin’ gals to inappropriately dressed vixens?
It starts with the flirty doe-eyes. Puh-lease! Act your age.
And that dress? I know it’s hot in Hawaii, but your neckline is a bit low cut for October in Oregon, don’t you think?
Okay, now you’ve definitely crossed a line. Have you no shame?
OH MYLANTA! If you have children on your laps, quick, cover their eyes! I don’t know how this slipped past the censors.
See what I mean? Totally inappropriate.
Feeling a sense of deja-vu? This post originally ran last year, but I had to “reanimate” it for the holiday. Whahahahaha!
Happy Halloween!
Our baby is ugly.
But our dog is cute.
Mo-om! Shasta is digging again!
Shasta! No!
No, Shasta! Bad dog!
Dum de dum de dum… what a nice day…
What the… Shasta, what have you been doing?
Who me? Nothing…
Shasta! Have you been digging holes again?
Um…no?
Then what is that?
Busted.
Mom! Come out here and see what Shasta did!
Great. What has that #$@% dog been doing this time?
Is that a…?
It is! She dug a mole out of the yard!
Mo-om! Shasta’s digging again!
What a good dog!
Okay…so there were a few words. If you want a truly Wordless Wednesday, go here.
Want to know why Shasta is so clean?
She has had three baths this week.
Apparently she views the new compost bin as her own personal buffet and rolling zone.
Mmmmm, moldy leftovers.
Dog heaven.
If you are here for another chapter in my hot little romance, I’m sorry. The only hotness going on around here today is Newt’s fever.
No, she doesn’t have that yucky hacky thing that’s going around. She had that last week.
And then gave it to Mr. Frantic.
And then gave it to me.
That girl has never had trouble sharing.
Nope, I’m pretty sure that this fever is due to an ear infection. And I’m pretty much an expert on ear infections since this will be her 3,468th, or so. She has had surgery to put tubes in her ears four times. They usually pop out right about the time we pay the last bill.
In other news, the dog keeps vomiting on my carpet. The rawhide dog bones that she got in her Christmas stocking don’t seem to agree with her, but someone keeps giving them to her. And someone else keeps forgetting to throw them away. So someone has to lug out the carpet cleaner and hope that there are no chunks. In case you were wondering, I am someone two out of three times.
And yes, the dog got her own Christmas stocking.
Why?
1-The symmetry of four stockings looked better on the mantle.
2- We have an eight year old girl with a large nurturing instinct.
3- We will not be having any more children.
4- The dog is now our baby.
About the clover: Picnik did not have a fig leaf and I couldn’t show our baby’s hoo-hoo to the internet.
This is not that kind of blog.
I don’t know what kind of blog it is, but it is not that kind.
Speaking of sick, I mentioned that Newt shared her horrible hacking feverish cold with me, right? That is how I came to be sitting in church on Sunday with a major Nyquil hangover. Instead of listening I drew pictures with Newt.
She has a huge Harry Potter obsession going on right now so she drew Hedwig.
I drew Harry.
She drew Hermione.
I drew a creepy looking Voldemort wearing a party hat, holding a cupcake and shouting “I wanted chocolate! Avada kedavra!”
After that I decided that maybe I should go home and go back to bed.
I’m feeling much better now, thanks. Just in time for me to take care of ear infections and dog vomit.
Yup, I’m living the dream.
The next installment of A Whirlwind Romance will be up Friday.
Cozy.
Right now, I am curled up on the couch with a blanket and my warmest wool socks. The tv is off. The Christmas lights are on. A fire is crackling merrily in the wood stove. And outside my window the world has turned to ice.
As I write, I am trying not to listen to the conspiratorial whispers coming from Santa’s Workshop (aka: the studio with a blanket pinned over the doorway) where Mr. Frantic and Girl Wonder are busy crafting a little something for me to open Christmas morning.
Earlier today it was our turn. Newt and I are sewing Daddy a new tie. We giggled over our choice of fabric, red with Bah Humbug! written on it. We just finished reading A Christmas Carol and my girl found the pre-changed Ebenezer to be oh-so-funny – I daresay, even more so than Spongebob. I am constantly amazed at who she is becoming. And I must admit, I frequently underestimate her. She can’t wait for me to read more Dickens to her.
But I was talking about the snow, or as the news refers to it: The Arctic Blast.
It had snowed every day for a week; then yesterday the freezing rain began. In our normally moderate climate that spells disaster. In fact, just now as I typed a major limb from the tree across the street, overburdened with ice, crashed to the ground. There will likely be many more to come. The roads are impossibly impassible. Even church was canceled today.
But we are home, warm and dry. Our freezer is stocked with plenty of food. The Christmas shopping is as done as it needs to be. What we don’t have, we can make. What we can’t make, we can do without.
We have all that we need, and all that we need is enough.
While putting on my makeup the other day, I was interrupted by
“Way down yonder on the Chatahoochi,
It gets hotter than a hoochie-coochie…”
playing loudly on the stereo.
I walked out of the bathroom and into a party.
Yee-haw!
Why is it that some girls think Halloween is a good excuse to change from normal, family-lovin’ gals to inappropriately dressed vixens?
It starts with the flirty doe-eyes. Puh-lease! Act your age.
And that dress? I know it’s hot in Hawaii, but your neckline is a bit low cut for October in Oregon, don’t you think?
Okay, now you’ve definitely crossed a line. Have you no shame?
OH MYLANTA! If you have children on your laps, quick, cover their eyes! I don’t know how this slipped past the censors.
See what I mean? Totally inappropriate.
Writer. Reader. Homeschooling Mama and happy wife. You probably have a dog named Heidi, but I don't need to hear about it.
