Talking Dirty

Okay– my friend is on the phone, talking about getting her alpaca fleece sheared and processed, and then finding a spinner to buy it, and seriously– it’s like she’s seducing me with fresh, quality critter fur.  I WANT TO SPIN THAT!  (Okay– not these critters– these critters were found on Bing images, and while charming, they do not have the personal appeal of a personal alpaca and it’s body hair.  Knitters, rally to this– you know what I’m talking about!)

Anyway, my house is a crapfestive craptastic crapgasm–and buying ONE MORE THING and investing in ONE MORE HOBBY is completely out of the question.  But that only makes all her seductive talk about fleece and combining it with Romney and roving that much more of a turn on, yanno?

Anyway…

In other news, I went and ruined Chicken’s social life last night.  Oh yeah, some people call it back to school night, but yeah.  Not the way I do it.  I try very hard to make sure EVERY teacher remembers my name.  And Chicken spends the rest of the year trying VERY HARD to make sure they forget hers.  It’s been a good system– and this is the last year we’re seeing it in action.  *sigh*

Also, I’d like to thank everyone who made such nice comments about Clear Water.  My odd little duck apparently inspired a VERY popular odd little frog–I’m so glad that Patrick was lovable and real to people, and that Whiskey seemed to be the same.  (Whiskey is a little foul-mouthed and grump-tacular) at times–I was worried;-)

And seriously–if you want to know how tired my kids are of take-out, check out THIS weirdness.  I was trying to get them up this morning (soccer practice last night–they were TIRED!) and when they wouldn’t wake up to get their clothes on I had to threaten them with a cafeteria lunch if they didn’t dress themselves.  It wasn’t an idle threat–I didn’t have time to dress them while they slept and make their own sandwiches–and I think it surprised them both.  *shrugs*  pb&j or a ham sandwich–who knew they were magic?

I noticed something very disturbing, btw.  I took my son to wait for the bus and watched him–earphones on, iPod blaring–walk toward his bus stop, ignoring the truck he was wandering in front of, and generally clueless as a baby duck.  Oh crap.  He’s eighteen, right?  He’s 6’5″ tall, right?  He’s got a blackbelt in karate, right?  Yup.  But that boy still done got some growing to do.

Zoomboy, btw, seems to have sprouted into an actual boy.  Sorta blows my mind.  And, as promised, girls keep falling into his dimples–see?  Sometimes, mama DOES know best!

And Squish?  She told a friend’s mom that her mom was aMAZing.  Why?  Because I put Cheetohs in her lunch.

Have I mentioned, life is a widdobit stwange?