Yay, TAWNY!

My friend Tawny (www.tawnyweber.com) sold her first book on Monday. She'll be a Blaze writer! I'm so very proud because she's stuck with writing through the thick and thin, when she thought she'd never sell, when the lines closed or changed...She just kept on typing. Her writing has won many contests, has captured GH finals and has captivated many an agent and editor. I know many husbands that are happy to have their wives read her work...it's that HOT, and that GOOD!!! LOL.

At one website (www.smartbitchestrashybooks.com), they give out stupid titles when someone wins something. I'm so jealous I could just spit nails, but I decided, HEY, I'm bigger than that! I have my own blog, why not make up my own titles? So Tawny gets to be the first Dude with a title.

Kneel, Tawny, and receive your title: Tawny, I dub thee Queen of the Sultry Gypsies and Keeper of the sexy stilettos!

CONGRATS ON YOUR SALE! May there be many more to come, and sold-out shelves all over the country.

Let Flopping Dogs Lie...

Why do dogs flop where they KNOW they're going to have to move? We went to a picnic at my MIL's house (good food!) and the senile dog went. He proceeds to flop first in front of the buffet table on the patio--and was forced to leave. He flopped next in front of the door to the house--you guessed it, almost got stepped on and had to leave. THEN, he must have gotten really disgusted because he went down to the lawn to flop UNDER the badminton net. Yes, he came back mighty quickly, looking dejected. The kids were playing, so I can only imagine how he lasted as long as he did (I think he was down there for five minutes).

Now, we don't live on an acre of land--we have 12 or so acres he could choose to flop on, and on 8 of them he probably wouldn't get chased away. I say 8 because the cows dominate a fair share of them and would definitely kick his sorry butt out of their pasture. They've never liked him. Whenever he goes out to their pond he looks both ways, slinks in, gets a drink, chases a frog or two then slinks back like someone beat his sorry butt. He KNOWS those cows are gunning for him.

But back to the patio... It doesn't help that when the poor dog lies down he sounds like a house dropped on top of him. My BIL's girlfriend kept asking, "Was that your DOG?" because he'd flop (mind you, he's 100 lbs) but he'd moan and groan as he went down, and there'd be a creaking of bones in there as well.

We're going back later for dinner. We'll see if he goes back down and flops somewhere different. Right now he's flopped in the foyer of the house. I'm thinking he doesn't quite get the whole path of traffic thing. I guess I have to remember you can't teach an old dog new tricks--or should that read, you can't teach an old dog where to flop?

Weekend!

Yay, it's the weekend! It was actually a nice weekend (well, so far. I don't want to jinx it). A friend visited for the day, ending with a cookout. Today I got to sleep late, watched some of the Indy 500 with the DH and brainstormed a new story idea with Pigtails. Oh, and I played Pokemon trading cards with K-man and got my butt whooped because I have no clue what I'm doing or if he even knows what he's doing. But he was happy, and actually did some math in the process, so that's a good thing. I even wrote the new story idea, imagine that.

So today I'm wondering, what kind of books do you like? Spicy hot books, adventure books, fantasy, historical...What makes you turn the page and read more?

I personally enjoy a ton of different book ideas. Some weeks I want spicy, other weeks I want fantasy. I skimmed the new Anne McCaffery books that were written with her son--hated them. He might be her son but he doesn't 'feel' the whole dragon world thing. I just found a bunch of books I got at the last conference that I need to read--a mix of romantic suspense and comedy. The book I'm writing now is a spicy idea I had. Pigtails is putting me up to this. We'll see what happens.

So what do you enjoy reading?

Freaky Friday

It's Friday, and the movie Freaky Friday is on. I have to say, this is one weird movie. I can't imagine switching places with my mom (and I like my mom). Though I will say, since I've grown up and had kids, I find myself saying and doing stuff like my mom would do (have you ever done that?). You know, the, "Don't make me come up there!" and, "Don't make me turn this car around!" That sort of stuff.

But I wondered, as I watched the movie, if I could trade places for one day with someone, who would it be? I think I'd like to trade places with Wonder Woman. I like the thought of the invisible jet, and spinning the golden lasso thingie. Then she can come and whip my kids into shape.

So who would you like to trade places with for a day?

Where Would You Go?

Poodle update: the book is DONE! Yahoo! I have seen the last of the poodles unless we get edits. So cross your fingers, legs, eyes...What ever else you can cross that edits are light. I'm about ready to barbecue me a toy poodle.

Fish Update: Everyone is still alive. Summertime the frog is lively, Spot has eaten all of the algae on the sides of the tank. Goldfish are thinking about going on strike because they're not getting fed enough.

Thought of the day: If you could go on vacation anywhere in the continental USA, where would you go? It must be somewhere you haven't been before. I'm going to list my top five (because I'm bored and waiting for brownies to cool).

1) Grand Canyon. It's GOT to be magnificent. Ever since the Brady Bunch went there I've been dying to go and sleep on the canyon floor. I'd also shoot the rapids, whatever else. I'm a little leery about riding a mule down, but I'd consider it.

2) Yosemite: I want to see Old Faithful and the gorgeous countryside. My kids would get a kick out of it all.

3) Florida Keys: Another childhood fantasy, this one brought on by the television series, FLIPPER. I want to see alligators and fish and all that.

4) The big cave in KY: I forget the name of it, Carlsbad Caverns? We're cave people here. We've been in many, and I'd love to see this one!

5) Acadia National Park: Though I lived in Me for many years, I never got a chance to go to Acadia. I'd LOVE to go. I think it'd bring back many good memories of my childhood.

That's it...Where would you go visit?

Monday Musings...

Well, it's Monday and the new fish are still alive. Which is good, if they decide to stay alive. If they decide to die tomorrow their warranty will have expired from the pet store--we had 48 hours for them to croak at the pet store's expense. That little Spot (the algae eater) has been going to town on the algae. He's eaten the glass clean and has been working on the frog's 'house' and the plants. K-man saw Spot sucking rocks today--which is good, because they're dirty too.

Which got me to thinking...God made this lovely creature to clean up the algae in my fish tank. Where is the creature to clean the dirt off the floor in my house??? We have a dirt driveway, and when it rains the driveway sand comes into my house. It's very disheartening to dust a pan of dirt off the floor every day. But if I had a creature to wander around, eating the dirt, now that would be great.

I was thinking maybe a giant earthworm at first, but they're kind of ugly. I mean, which end do you pet? And I believe they leave a slimy trail, which wouldn't be good for the floor. So something with legs and a face would be nice. It doesn't have to have 4 legs--we could do with more. However, I'd prefer it didn't have fur, seeing the senile dog sheds enough. Maybe it could eat shed fur as well, and dander, and dirt.

I know, some of you are thinking, "Woman, don't you have a vacuum?" Yes, I do. But the vacuum involves me getting up and running it around. Plus I have to pick up the damned toys and shoes, and toys, and the dog's bone, and more toys to vacuum. I've tried just vacuuming it all up, but the damned vacuum gets clogged when you try to suck up a Hot Wheels car or a Barbie.

So God, if you're out there, I'd like a new pet. One that is sort of like a vacuum but more fun. If it fetched a ball or two now and then we'd be happy (the old dog don't fetch. Never did as a young dog, either). Feel free to send it on down. We'll leave the porch light on for it.

Houston, we have FISH!

Or maybe that should read, "Houston, we have MORE fish!" Because today the tank of death has had it's certificate of health reinstated.

Since the birth of our fishtank, we've been taking the water for analysis at the local pet store. During that time, we lost Summertime the frog while the tank cycled, which means basically the water adjusted to fish wastes while trying to grow happy bacteria to combat the said fish wastes.


Well, the tank has cycled, so we brought home Spot the pleco (those algae eaters) and Summertime the frog. As we rode home with our fish, K-man says, "When I die, I want to be buried with my fish."

So I ask, "Does that mean you're getting flushed down the toilet, too?"

The little one laughs hysterically and informs me, "He's too big to fit down the toilet!"

I just love my warped little kids.

So the 2 goldfish, Zoom and Multi, are hysterical to watch now that they're discovered the intruders. They've been hovering over the frog wondering what the hell it is. Then they'll go over to Spot and hover over him. In between they're sucking up the food on the floor of the tank because God only knows when the next meal is (it's at 8:00 usually, the little fin pigs). Spot must think he's died and gone to pleco heaven because we have more algae than his little heart can handle.

Other than that, I've gotten quite a bit done on the poodles (I'm doing potty training right now. It's making me think back and remember my senile dog's puppy days. Man, was he CUTE). The birthday party was a huge success. The cupcakes were edible (thanks to the babysitter) and I'm getting ready to finish up more poodles.

Catch you in the A.M.!

500!!!

Weeeee! We hit 500 on the dude counter! Now, some of those are me trying to figure out how to post, or figure out how to fix the links, or check the spelling, but a good part of those are hits from my DUDES! I don't know if I should say thanks or hand out the straight jackets. Maybe a bit of both.

Slated for this weekend: The party at the go-kart/token place for K-man. Go-kart racing Sunday, and poodles. In case you haven't guessed, my boss caught up with me so I have diligently worked on my book all week like a good camper. I have realized that will never, ever own a poodle. My senile Corey dog is enough work, and all I do is order kids to feed him and let him out. Oh, and clean margerine off his head when it falls off the knife (he happened to be standing by me at the counter). I will say, he's very shiny now.

The only thought I had today (besides toy poodles being definitely more trouble than their worth, IMHO) was the whole fencing the border deal. They were talking about it a bit on TV this morning, and the idea boggles me. I'm wondering:

1) if Craftsman will see an opportunity for mega bucks and export more wire cutters to Mexico for cheap sale
2)Who will build the fence? I hope to hell it's not the people that fix CT highways. At that rate of speed, it would take another century to finish
3) will we have a Three little pigs theme in the fencing... One section of hedge (or Cacti)one section of wood and one section of brick.
4)Why not go all out and build a huge, kick-ass fence like the Great Wall in China so we can charge admission and stuff like that?
5) Will Home Makeover build a section and decorate it in a Tex/Mex theme?

That's enough pondering for one night. Poodles await.

What Goddess Are YOU?

I have a goddess friend: her name is Athena. I've always been jealous of Athena. She's a brilliant writer, a good friend, AND she's a goddess. So I decided, what the hay (or is it hey?) I'll get my own goddess title. To hell with jealousy. I'm taking over the heavens. So here's my goddess title:

You Are Artemis!

Brave, and a natural born leader. You're willing to fight for what you believe in... And willing to make tough decisions. Don't forget - the people around you have ideas too!

What Goddess Are You?

I'm sure Julie can give us more of a goddess lesson, but Artemis was the twin to Apollo, the Sun God and was into hunting yet preserving mystical animals and other really cool stuff. I like that idea. I have no problem with changing some jerk that cuts off my chariot into a bear and then shooting him with an arrow right through the heart. Nothing like a little roadrage, Goddess-style. I also have no problem with protecting the unicorns and other mystical animals with my trusty bow and arrow (mind you, I've never shot a bow and arrow in real life, but I'm game for anything). So I guess Artemis is good for me! Go me!

So what goddess are YOU?

Neglectful...

I realized today I've been, once again, neglecting my dudes. I was reminded after sassing my senile dog (NO, you cannot take your bone outside! Go back in the house) of how you all must look, little faces down on your paws, eyes all huge and soulful as if I were the worst dude in the world. A combination of the Wicked Witch of the East, West and a smattering of Roseanne in there as well.

Which got me to thinking... If evil people had dogs to make them feel guilty now and then, would they be quite as evil? Of course, you have to know how to FEEL guilty to be subjected to the sad-eyed stare. Think back...The Wicked Witch didn't have a dog, she had flying monkeys and obviously had a dog problem by the way she treated Toto. Those flying monkeys were damned happy, too, when she melted. Mojo Jojo of the Power Puff girls doesn't have a dog. But then, he IS a monkey.

The only bad people I can think of that have a dog is that evil team that was on Laff Olympics (with Yogi Bear) the dog's name was Mumbly. He'd mumble and go "Zzzzz-zzzz-zzz" when he laughed. That made think back to my first family dog, a Siberian husky. She was starving and obviously from an abused home, and had run away. We fed her, posted an ad in the paper but no one answered. About a month later, the people showed up--come to find out the man of the family would beat the wife and the dog. The dog ran away, the wife stayed.

So I guess, as I look at the senile dog, who has now forgotten how evil I am and has fallen sound asleep, that perhaps the reason why evil people don't have dogs is that the dogs are smarter. They don't stick around for bad treatment. They leave.

I know, this is way deep for a Wednesday evening before 1) Alias 2) Lost 3) Finding out if Elliot got booted off Idol. Try to take it all with a grain of salt, and watch out for the flying monkeys.

Happy Belated Mom's Day!

Happy Belated Mother's Day!! My urchins blessed me with hand-made gifts, made me a breakfast of poptarts and helped me pick out little plants (I got 2 of the sweetest tiny boxwoods. I adore boxwoods.) We also had lunch AND dinner out (Mc D's and Friendly's. K-man proclaimed Friendly's to be the best restaurant EVER, and we should have tipped the lady at least $10.)

We also went to the rodeo. In the rain. We were showered with mud when the bronc horses went by, which made the kids giggle. A cowboy got bucked off and lost his boot (a total Tide moment, let me tell you). I want to come back as a bucking bull when I die (or a bucking horse). Anyone that harnesses my most deadly trait, makes me work for 8 seconds then feeds my fat face is golden in my book.

So for entertainment today, I decided to find out which horrid piece of literature I am. I don't think this book describes me, but I could be wrong. Go see what miserable book you are and check back:




take the WHAT BAD BOOK ARE YOU test.


and go to mewing.net. not as good as reading a good book, but way better than a bad one.

Saturday Musings

First, thanks for the birthday well-wishes for K-man. Well, the cake for the birthday turned out okay--which is highly annoying because how can I complain that DH turned off the oven if the cake was tasty? I can only chalk it up to my superior baking skills ::::snort:::

I'm sitting here, trying not to think about my K-man's go-kart race today. Little one has a birthday party, and since we've been in monsoon land (we got like, 4 inches of rain yesterday) there was some question if he'd race or not. My feeling is I can sit home and be miserable quite easily--no need to travel to NY state and be wet and cold.

Of course, I'm feeling a little guilty because I didn't paint the photographer dude's beta fish bowl. This is a huge grizzly of a man with a beard and all that, wears leather biker attire (his business card has him on his Harley and two bikini clad women flanking each side). He wants me to paint bowls with beta fish on them, with purple flowers. His favorite color is purple. I've already done 2 bowls for him, so I need to get a third done.

I really have no reason to worry (besides the photographer not getting his fish). K-man is a great driver, and he's got the best helmet, safety gear, all that. But this is a new division on a much faster track, and a regional race to boot. A mother has a right to worry a little, right?

So today I'm going to keep busy by taking the little one to the birthday party (at an ice cream parlor!) and writing more poodles. Will I survive and evade the men in the white coats? Check back tomorrow and see.

Happy Birthday and Gas

I know, it seems weird for me to have Gas in the title (we'll get to that part in a moment) and say Happy Birthday to my oldest boy, who will turn 8 today. Well, he already turned 8, seeing he was yanked from my poor, C-section slashed body at 4:55 AM. So seeing we're in the midst of birthday preparations, our topic for today (again, later) is GAS, and I don't mean bodily function gas.

Off topic: I'm already pissed at the DH for turning off the oven this AM (he NEVER turns off the oven, why today?). I made a rousing breakfast of cinnabuns and planned to put the cake in the oven and have it be done after I got back from the bus. Instead, I pulled out a lukewarm, runny cake. The little one looks at me and says, "OOOOH, OOOH, EWWWW. That doesn't look too good." As always, she's very observant. So we're going to attempt baking it again. We'll see how bad it turns out.

So while I'm busy hunting down presents and other birthday-like things, I want to know how much you all are paying for gas. I paid $3.07 for plain ole normal gas two days ago and just about had a heart attack in the middle of the Sunoco station. I think I should have married an oil mogul instead of my genius, mechanical DH. Or at least I should get him to go dig around in the backyard and see if we can hit oil, like the Beverly Hillbillies.

So Happy Birthday, little man, and how much are you paying for gas???

Monkeys

So last night, I get up to turn on the bathroom light for the little one (her princess night light died) and come back to bed. It's 1:45 AM, and the DH says to me, "I should try to do more evil."

Now, I have NO CLUE how we got to that (there must have been more dialogue in there somewhere). So I say, half-asleep: "You can't. There isn't a monkey for that."

DH: :::snorts::: "What do you mean?"

Me: "You know--See no evil, Speak no evil, Hear no evil? There isn't a 'Do no evil'."

DH: "If there isn't a do no evil monkey, then I can do more evil, then. There's nothing to stop me from doing it."

I just remember mumbling that he couldn't do more evil, and going back to sleep.

So my burning question of the day is: Was there REALLY a 'do no evil' monkey, and it got destroyed, or was it left off intentionally as a governmental ploy to be able to rule the world one day?

I'm thinking there WAS a fourth monkey, and he was either A) handcuffed, and couldn't keep up with the trio, so he went and drank himself silly at a bar (with a straw, he's handcuffed, remember) and became the subject of a velvet painting B) Assaulted by a band of roving hyenas and roasted for being evil C) Got lost in some old lady's closet and was never seen again. D) Broken, like in the spoof on the Ten commandments... "I give you these 4...:::crash:::3 evil monkeys! Heed what they say!"

Take your pick. I know, I'm nuts. It happens when you send your little one to kindergarten orientation. It makes one a little loopy.

Beware...

Now that you're afraid of vampires or snakes lurking around the corner, I have an important topic to discuss that should scare the pants off you.

Sun Exposure.

It's summertime (or getting there) and my friend Heather already got a sunburn. Seeing I am the poster child for limiting sun exposure (I have lupus and am sun sensitive) I will educate you all on the evils of sunshine.

1) Sunscreen is GREAT, but realize that 45 SPF does not make you Superman or Superwoman. The 45 SPF means that it protects you 45 times over your sun tolerance limit. So if you sunburn in 1 minute, that 45 SPF will last you for 45 mins.

2) Reapplying Sunscreen is GREAT, but realize once you've hit your tolerance level in the SPF label, you have to go to a higher number to get protection. So if you're using 15 SPF, you can bump up to a 30 SPF, but you only get 15 times more protection. What that means is if you burn in one minute, apply 30 SPF after 15 minutes, you only get 15 more minutes in the sun. Sucks, doesn't it???

3) You can burn when it's overcast. The bad rays go through the clouds and attack like little rabid fleas. So you must protect yourself with sunscreen even on a cloudy day.

4) The sun's rays are strongest from 9am to 4pm, so you need more protection during those hours.

5) Sunlight can REFLECT off surfaces, like the ground, leaves, sand, etc. So if you put on a baseball cap and think you're good to go, think again. Go get the sunscreen.

6) You can sunburn THROUGH your clothes. A tee shirt has an SPF of 7. If you're sun sensitive, look for clothing that has SPF built into it. Try www.sunprecautions.com They have hats and stuff, too. The clothing is well-made and washable. It's expensive, but I've had my shirts and hats for years and they still look great.

7) Don't forget lips and other areas that get forgotten when applying sunscreen. Chapstick and Blistex make lip balm with SPF in it.

8) Visit a dermatologist if you have moles that have changed in size, shape or color.

9) Skin Cancer is a DEADLY disease. Once you get it, it can be fast-moving and take your life quickly. You can avoid this by simply applying sunscreen, using smarts when dealing with the sun, and checking your body for weird moles.

10) Sun exposure causes wrinkles, dark patches and all stuff you don't want when you age. Why not defeat it now by slopping on the sunscreen???

You have been warned. You can now return to your regular lives, wearing sunscreen, of course.

Brainstorming

Brainstorming. Uh, no, I'm not doing it. This is the one thing in the writing world I hate with a passion. I've always hated it, but the invention of IM and chat rooms make it even worse, because my happy little writer friends drag me in there and then they discuss goals and motivations and conflicts and they begin to talk about these imaginary people like they were their best friends. It's creepier than a plumber with a low waistline. I always get lost and confused, because I can't figure out what's for dinner, never mind plan 10 years of Rico Swave's life.

Sadly, my so-called friends have resorted to rude tactics to get me to brainstorm. They lure me into a chatroom with the scent of fresh gossip, then once I'm in, they toss the net and truss me up. AND THEY LAUGH, the blighters. "Ha ha, you have to brainstorm. Now tell me what you think of this for Gino's internal conflict." Of course, I've been known to escape. I've made AOL my scapegoat more than once. "Oh, sorry, AOHELL dumped me again." I'll probably burn in hell for it and never be able to get an internet connection again, but it's worth it.

But there's one way I will brainstorm sort of willingly, and that's when two of my friends get out the Tarot cards. We'll hit the chatroom and ask a question about our story, then they'll pull cards. I like it because there's very little thought on my part. I can sit and make rude comments and play the 'card pulling music', sort of like when they do Final Jeopardy on T.V. And tarot plotting is about 99.9999% accurate--better than birth control pills!

Of course, it's frustrating when you get a NS reading--meaning 'no s##t'. That's when you get cards that a total illiterate moron could interpret about your story. But there's still little thought and even more opportunity for snarky comments.

So friends, know I'm on to you. I vow to have more control at the slightest hint of juicy tidbits. And don't try the whole, "I SOLD! Hit the chatroom!" scene because when I discover it was a ploy, I will attack like a toy poodle looking for ankle meat. You've been warned.

Scintillate, scintillate

I'm sorry I've been quiet--I am deep into poodles at the moment, trying to get something on paper so my boss won't string me up by my toes and dangle me over alligator infested waters. On top of avoiding said boss, we've got a full schedule today in Dudeland. We need to take fishtank water to the petstore to see if we can get more new fish to attempt to kill, then there's gymnastics for the little one, and I should see about moving my flabby body in some form of exercise. So in light of that, today we'll discuss using million dollar words in your writing.

You're probably wondering what a million dollar word is...well, it's words smart people use so that no one knows what the hell you're trying to say. Why pointificate with a word like fornicate when you can just say, "F#$k it" and get nachos or something fun. That gets the point across, right?

In the writing world, there are tons of authors using million dollar words to either 1) hide the fact that they have no plot or GMC, or 2) trying to make their romance work more literary by having a juicy dictionary stuffing word or two. They are both WRONG. I tell you, there's nothing more maddening than reading a great love scene and being stopped by some word I have NO CLUE what it means. I'm a smart woman, and you're not getting any brownine points if I have to stop reading your sex scent to get the dictionary and look up your million dollar crap. I'd rather chuck your book and read TV Guide. Or vote for American Idol. ANYTHING.

Stephen King in his book On Writing says something to the effect that too many long words is like dressing up your pet in human clothes and parading him around. I don't have the book at hand, so I'm fudging it some, but it was cool. Basically he was trying to say, "Long words are BAD!" and he's right. I mean, why use a million dollar word for something when the simple works just as well? The average American reads on an 8th grade level (SZ will be chiming in and correcting me here, I bet). So using regurgitate when barf works is pretty pointless.

Of course, Stephen King wasn't writing advice books when I was a kid. He was writing blood and vampires :::shudder::: so I used to go out of my way to use long words in my writing in junior high and high school. My goal was to frustrate my teachers by making them look up words from my papers. Yes, I used the words correctly. I was a smart geek, not a base moron.

For swearing, we'd get really geeky and use phrases like, "anal orifice" to get the point across. Of course, hollering at someone, "You anal orifice!" is nowhere near as satisfying as calling them the real thing, but at least you won't get your mouth washed out with soap.

So below is a list a friend sent me of phrases you probably shouldn't use in your writing. If you made these up and I'm guilty of plagiarism, my bad. Come over to the house and I'll cook you dinner or make you an effigy of Christ with my clothes eating dryer.

Linguistic Transmographications and Their Translations

1. Scintillate, scintillate, asteroid minific. Twinkle, twinkle, little
star .
2. Pulchritude possess solely cutaneous profundity. Beauty is only skin
deep
3. Eschew the implement of correction and vitiate the scion. Spare the rod
and spoil the child
4. Individuals who make their abode in vitreous edifices would be advised to
refrain from catapulting petrious projectiles. People who live in glass
houses shouldn't throw stones. (this was my personal favorite, I used to say that to my sister all the time. I don't think she ever got the whole glass house thing because Billy Joel came out with an album around then called, Glass Houses. She probably thought people shouldn't through stones at her Billy Joel album, which is true.)
5. Neophyte's serendipity beginner's luck
6. Linguistic transmographications obfuscate the obvious. Too many long
words confuse the reader

The Jealous Princess

Poodle Fact: Those frilly cuts with pompons and frills actually serve a purpose. The poodle is a water dog, so shaving some hair helped with mobility in the water and kept the coat free of snags from swamp grass (or whatever). The puffs of hair left are located over joints or major organs (like the heart)--the thought being the hair would keep those areas warm while swimming in the icy cold water. Funky, eh?

Now, the gossip of the day:
Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom, has informed me she will be gracing me with her presence at the end of June to view the bevy of awesome schools we have to offer. She'll be bringing her 3 boys and her adorable daughter, the royal Princess of the family. I informed my daughter she'd have a guest, and she was not impressed.

"I don't want to meet no five-year-old."

"What about the wish you made to meet everyone in the world and make friends with them?"

She glared. "I changed my mind."

I decided to make it sound like a really good thing: "But she's very nice. She likes ponies and princesses, and she has older boys that will come with her and they treat her like a princess. Maybe they'll wait on you and stuff."

She grunted, and we went out to hang laundry. Yes, I like the smell of hung laundry. However, later that night the neighbor's dog barked at me for STEALING my own laundry, because he figures my backyard is his backyard. It's nice to know my laundry is safe from thieves.

But anyway, so you won't think I'm a horrid mean woman, I asked my DD to pick up the clothes pins off the ground because last week, my son decided it would be cool to clip them all in his hair--he looked like he had dread locks, however it's spelled. I wish I had blackmail photos of that, let me tell you. I'd be getting chores done until he's 50.

So the little one picked them up, but said with a sniff, "Maybe when that other 5 yr old comes, she can tell her older boys, the men who serve her, to pick up the clothes pins."

I about DIED. She was jealous! I then explained that the boys were her brothers, and she accepted that and made a plan of what ponies she'd share with 'the other 5 yr old'. But now I'm expecting Athena's boys to show up in purple servant clothes to pick up clothes pins. And I'm getting blackmail photos of that, too.