Bringing the funny

Last night, Skeeter asked me to remind him to get gas before he headed in to work. I left signs taped all around the house:

On the coffee pot -- Get Gas!! (You’ll regret it if you don’t.)

On the creamer in the fridge -- Get Gas!! (Don’t be a Tim.) -- Tim was a guy that Skeeter worked with 15 years ago who ran out of gas and was stuck on the interstate for a whole day because no one would go get him. EVERY time Skeeter even thinks about running out of gas, he says, "I don't want to be like Tim."

On his computer monitor -- Get Gas!! (AAA expires today.)

On his boots -- Get Gas!! (You don’t want to hear “I told you so.”)

On the back of the toilet -- Get Gas!! (You’ll feel like a dummy if you have to call for help.)

On the doorknob -- Get Gas!! (Calling for help is not your style.)

And for the final funny:

On the window of his truck -- Get Gas!! (Here’s your sign.)

Thank you. Thank you very much. I'll be here all week. :)

Ugly Betty Mode?

I have been watching the second season of Ugly Betty over the last few weeks. I love the show. The second season isn't as wonderful as the first, but still solidly good.

The name of the magazine, Mode, has always bothered me though. Why Mode? While the definition makes sense, the word mode doesn't exactly have the same punch that the names of some real magazines do -- Allure, Glamour, Cosmopolitan.

Just tonight I decided that Mode was named for the fabulous, scene-stealing Edna Mode from The Incredibles.

"Supermodels. Heh! Nothing super about them... spoiled, stupid little stick figures with poofy lips who think only about themselves." Edna Mode, The Incredibles

Doesn't that sound exactly like something Betty would say?

Whether it's correct or not, that's my theory, and I'm sticking to it.

Never a dull moment

SASS: AAAHHHHH!!! It's broken!

SPYDER: Don't worry. I'll help.

(running inside)

SPYDER: Here. Keep this safe. (The Nintendo DS) I have to help Sass rebuild her sand castle.

ME: What happened to it?

SPYDER: I stepped on it.

(pause)

ME: Did you intend to step on it?

SPYDER: Yeah.

ME: Oh. (pause) Well. (pause) I suppose it's good that you're making it right.

Amusing

I just ran across this article on the worst celebrity baby names.

When people find out Spyder's middle name, I usually hear, "Oh, how ... unusual." Sass gets a bit nicer, "That's different; pretty, but different."

I usually just say thanks and move on. From now on, I'm going to mention that we contemplated a few of those in the article.

Escapee

We discovered today that our dog Lucy can climb the fence -- the nearly 5 foot chain link fence that keeps her safe in our back yard when she's outside. We haven't actually seen her do it, but I think we have enough evidence to safely assume that's what's happening.

She got out one day last week when we had taken Brownie for a walk in the park. Lucy was going to go, but Sass decided to give her a bath just before we left. I wasn't particularly interested in taking a wet dog, since half of the time she's right against my legs. Of course, the other half of the time she's trying to pull me over so that she can attack some innocent squirrel or bird, so I'm not really sure which I prefer.

At any rate, poor lonely Lucinda was left behind. Apparently this was the last straw for her because she was clearly missing out on a trip to the park where there are geese to terrorize.

When we walked around the corner on our way back home from the park, there was Lucy, standing in the road. Sass nearly had a nervous breakdown right there. Thank heavens we were only two houses away from home because I was simultaneously

• comforting Sass, who was crying so hard that she could barely see to walk home
  
• keeping Brownie from pulling me over
• calming Spyder, who was jumping around and making Sass and the dogs nervous
  
• holding Lucy by her collar to keep her from darting off

I'm quite thankful that Lucy came over to us immediately. On the two occasions that she had gotten outside before, she was so busy chasing squirrels and birds that I had to run and catch her, which of course she thought was a fun little game, requiring more chasing.

Whew, I'm tired just remembering.

Brownie has also gotten out twice, but he is easy to get back. Just yell, "Brownie, TREAT!" and he will come a-runnin' as quickly has he can.

We thought that we had discovered how she had gotten out, wiggling through the gate. There is a little bit of a gap between the gate and the post because Sass thinks it's cute to wiggle through. So Spyder and I blocked the gap and we thought we were in the clear. After all, the dogs have been in that yard for four years, and neither of them had ever gotten out that way. Every previous escape had been through the front door when one of us was running out and didn't make sure that the door was properly latched.

Apparently we dusted off our hands a bit too quickly.

Today was a nice day, so I left the dogs outside to play in the back yard while we were out running errands. We were gone about 2.5 hours, and when we were coming down the street, I saw Lucy sitting on top of the picnic table -- outside of the fence -- as pretty as you please.

We pulled in, and she ran over to the car, all happy to see us, as if there was no problem with her being, oh, out in the front yard near the busy street and cars. I suppose I should be happy that she was showing us the love in hanging around in the yard waiting for us. She could have gone all squirrel-happy and disappeared.

Sass took her inside while Spyder and I launched another investigation. He found significant circumstantial evidence that supports the climbing theory -- a scratch on Lucy's tummy, a tuft of hair on the fence, and scratches on the top of the fence. This also explains why Lucy got out and Brownie didn't. He wouldn't have been able to get his big ol' self up there. (Remember the paragraph about treats? He is all about the treats.)

So now the urchins and I have to come up with a way keep her contained now that she's realized freedom is only a climb away. And until we figure it out, Lucy just won't go out unsupervised.

She is going to hate that.

With my mama, everything is an adventure

Oh, that mama of mine. She just makes me laugh.

Tonight my mom called. I had missed the original call, and as we all know, not returning her call can lead to panic, so I called back immediately when I saw the missed call (um, no message; just to mention that).

I was on the way out the door to put gas in the car, and because my mama is her usual lovely but nosy self, she had to know all of the details. It's probably just easier to give the whole conversation.

MOM: So how much is gas there?

ME: Well, I passed by this place today that was $3.59, but I was in a hurry and couldn't stop, so I'm going back now.

MOM: So where is it?

ME: It's right inside Big City.

MOM: [gasp] You mean it's in the ghetto!?!

ME: No, it's not in the ghe . . . well, it probably is in the ghetto, but it's on the edge, not in the heart of it or anything.

MOM: You're going to the ghetto to get cheap gas? What if that's the last gas you buy!?!

ME: Oh, it's fine. Don't worry. It's a new gas station. Lots of lights around.

MOM: Well, you make sure you lock those babies in the car while you're out. And don't talk to anyone.

ME: The babies are home with Skeeter. I'm by myself.

MOM: [gasp] You're going to the ghetto by yourself for the cheap gas!?!

ME: Mom, Mom, it's fine. Look, I'm pulling in now.

MOM: I'll bet there are no other white people there!

ME: Maybe not. I don't know. Look, I'm not supposed to be on the phone while I'm pumping the gas. There's a no-no sign and everything.

MOM: Okay . . . .

ME: I'll call you back after I'm finished to let you know I'm not dead.

MOM: Okay. You do that.

(Pump gas; all is well; back in the car and call her back. Because she would have been in a tizzy until I did.)

ME: Mom, it's all good. I'm finished filling up, and I'm driving out.

MOM: I feel better.

ME: And there was even another white person there, but I'm pretty sure she was a hooker.

MOM: Oh my word.

ME: It's fine. There was a white person there, right?

MOM: Well, you get out of there before someone thinks you're a hooker too!

(hear Dad in the background, "Is she out of the ghetto yet?")

MOM: (talking to Dad) Yes, she's out of the ghetto. For now. (talking to me again) You are the reason that I have grey hair, you know.

My favorite spam

I was cleaning out my spam folder recently and found this little jewel.



That laughter you heard? That was me.

Oldies

Today the urchins and I were driving to the children's museum, listening to Raising Sand, the Robert Plant/Alison Krauss collaboration. Many of the songs are from the '50s and '60s, so we were discussing "oldies" music.

Then Spyder popped in with, "I love oldies. Some of my favorite songs are oldies. I think my favorite is Who Can It Be Now?"



I protested, of course, because that song is from my youth. Spyder was adamant that it is an oldie. His argument: The song is more than 25 years old, and those songs that I would have considered oldies in my youth -- Me and Bobby McGee, Eleanor Rigby, Proud Mary, Brand New Key, etc -- didn't have that many years on me. And he's absolutely right; I can't refute that.

The oldies have been redefined for our household, and apparently I am one.

Wii Fit

Skeeter and I got a Wii Fit not long ago. We had been looking on and off throughout the summer and finally found one on the same day that I found Vanessa's Wii.

I love it. I'm astonished that I love it, but I truly do. And it's especially odd that I love it considering that it gives me a complex every time I step on it.

During the initial setup, after I weighed myself for the first time, my little Mii plumped out nicely. Oh, gee, thanks for that little reality check.

*sigh*

And every time I step on it to do the daily test, the animated balance board gives a surprised little "ooh."

*sigh*

And yet there I am on the board almost every day, my chubby little Mii and me.

Google Reader laughs at me

I just logged into my Google Reader account for the first time in at least a week, possibly longer. How many unread items?

All Items (1000+)

Pretty soon it's going to say

All Items (You've Got to Be Kidding)

or

All Items (Why Bother)

or maybe even

All Items (Just Close Your Account Already)

I think I'm just going to mark everything as read and start anew.

But just so I won't feel as if I'm missing out, have mercy on me and leave a link below for a MUST READ post that you've found (or written!) recently. I don't want to miss out on the really good stuff!

What I would say

I have been running like mad since Saturday morning. Really, it was since Wednesday if you count my three days of single parenting last week.

I'd love to tell you about the Hummingbird Migration Celebration on Saturday. (Fabulous!)

Or the playdate over here yesterday. (Wild and crazy; the urchins loved it.)

Or our first 4-H club meeting today. (Boring but informative; I hope it gets a little more exciting once we're past the introductions.)

Or our first chess club meeting today. (Sass won; Spyder lost, then won. They loved it.)

But I swear, if I don't get some rest there is no way that my urchins are going to get to the planetarium tomorrow. Because I will be on the floor, asleep.

One more busy day. I can make it. I hope.

Menu Plan Monday: Sept 7-13

About last week: Skeeter had to go out of town on business Wednesday through Friday, so things got a bit muddled. I ended up taking the urchins out for Chinese Wednesday night. I made Wednesday's pork loin on Thursday night instead (and it was fab). We were gone all day on Saturday, so the Saturday plan was scrapped as well, and we had leftovers out of the fridge plus fresh fruit.

This week I'm recycling the one of the two meals we didn't have last week. Also, I'm doing a pantry challenge, so no major shopping. I haven't had time for grocery shopping this weekend (thus, the pantry challenge), but once I do make it to the store, I will only need to buy the fresh vegetables for Wednesday's spinach salad and crudite platter. The leftovers will be remade into the pasta salad, bruschetta, and veggie stir fry later in the week.

And on to the menu:

Sunday: Fish sticks, french fries, garlic bread, fruit

(Yes, I am ashamed to admit it, but I really did make fish sticks for dinner. This weekend was a whole lotta busy, and I'm all about keepin' it real, yo.)

Monday: Quiche, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, fruit

Tuesday: Eating out

Wednesday: Chicken cacciatore in black olive and tomato sauce, garlic pasta, spinach salad, crudite platter

Thursday: Pasta salad, bruschetta

Friday: Pizza

Saturday: Beef enchiladas, Mexican rice, veggie stir fry

Check out this week's Menu Plan Monday at Organizing Junkie for more great recipes!

Create your own caption

Here are a couple of ours:

"Your dog deserves the string cheese. Your dog deserves the string cheese .... "

"Laser eyes, set to stun."

I love this picture though, and it deserves a great caption. Have at it.

Starry Night

The children have been talking about Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night today. I can't say how it began because I have no idea, but they've been looking at and talking about the painting off and on all day.

We listened to Don Mclean's "Vincent"



and afterward Sass decided that she wanted to write her own. This is her version.

Starry Starry Night

with the blue sky
around us
with the wind blowing softly
through the dark starry night
with the grass waving
to the sky
with the stars sparkling
in the sky
starry starry night

I Will Survive (Homeschooler's Version)

With thanks to Natalie.

Mini-Me

SASS: Did you know that chocolate is my favorite flavor?

ME: Favorite flavor of what?

SASS: (rolls eyes) Anything.

ME: I have taught you well, young one.

Periodic Table of Videos

Spyder has been watching these videos at The Periodic Table of Videos all afternoon.

He is now gathering his chemistry supplies to do a few experiments.

Updated: He's steadfast in it too. I just overheard this exchange

SASS: [Spyder]! I'm having an ice cream sandwich. Do you want one?

SPYDER: Yes, but not right now. I'm doing chemistry. Remind me later that I want one.

Blogville will settle this

Skeeter and I had a bit of a disagreement today.

While driving home from the Labor Day family fun (more on that later), I used the term "po po." Skeeter claimed he had never heard that before. Never, ever in his whole entire life. And accused me of making it up (and my sister, since I, of course, dragged her use of it into the fray).

I maintain that it's a common term.

So, you friends from everywhere, which one of us is right?

(Well, I know which one of us is right, but whose side do you take?)