May 27, 2013 · 2:11 pm

The New(ish) Normal. Just Sayin’.

Normal dinner “conversation” now includes things like:

-“Watermelon goes in our mouth, NOT down our underpants”

-“Well I didn’t think it was funny when Cailou did it either.”

-“NOT IN YOUR NOSE!! NOT IN YOUR NOSE!!”

-“Who put crayons in my wine?” (This is mostly a rhetorical question, although I haven’t totally ruled out The Mr.)

– “Don’t just lick the ketchup off… eat the cantaloupe too.” (Barf.)

– “It’s only good off Mommy’s plate? Can Mommy eat off your plate, then?” (That is a big “no” from The Little Emperor Jr, BTW.)

-“So honey, how was your – not on the floor! No more strawberries? Only Jello? With a fork? Daddy will you hand us a wipey, please?”

Sigh… adult conversation is uber-overated anyway, I’m sure.

Just Sayin’.

(“No buddy, Bob the tomato WANTS you to eat that ‘mato…. mommy promises.”)

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May 27, 2013 · 10:12 am

Long weekend in the burbs; a brief synopsis.

Day1: a neighbor cat murdering bunnies in the back garden ; fighting the crowds fun in the sun at Boulder Creek Festival; “energy gummies” that came with a crash like the hangover of a frat boy’s graduation night bender, (this was a rookie mistake on my part, I am rusty with my Boulder rules- NEVER take anything a crunchy girl on the Pearl Street Mall gives you, even if she’s a legit vendor;) exploding mason jars of beer in the back seat of The Mr’s Jeep and some very unfortunately-placed wettness on my pants from said jars; assembly of a patio storage box that made putting the Cozy Coupe together seem like stacking Jr’s “1,2,3” blocks; “all natural mosquito repellent” that does NOT repel; and a carpet of dead/dying insects on the floor of our garage that can only properly be described as “of Biblical Proportions.” Off to quite a start.

Day 2: a morning greeting that included a monster toddler poo blow-out before my first cup of coffee even got cold waiting for me to drink it; a short trail hike to a favorite pizza joint, during which I discovered everyone thinks that even a hike on a joke of a trail in the foothills is “outside my comfort zone,” :::cough cough::: Colorado Native here :::::throat clear cough::::: ; a lounge singer version of 50 Cent’s “Candy Shop”; finding that the uber-sucky-to-assemble patio storage box has a faulty lid that I will have to replace (sigh); getting scraped on one of my extra large bug bites by Jr’s shoe, causing an explosion of itchtastic-ness that resulted in actual tears; and the errecting (giggle giggle, tee hee,) of a bug zapper on our property. (If that isn’t suburban, I don’t know what is.)

Day 3 is just starting, but it is going to include The Mr. using an electric hedge trimmer that is probably too much tool for a trimming newb perhaps overkill for the job at hand, (pray for my shrubbery.) Maybe we will make it to the overcrowded concrete swimming hole pool, maybe we will just keep doing what we are right now: running as fast as we can in circles screaming “I’M A DINOSAUR!!!!” (ok, that’s not really what I’m doing… but we can revisit that statement after a few long-weekend-bonus Mimosas.)

Happy Memorial Day, Suburbia.

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May 25, 2013 · 9:00 am

Dear Neighbor Kit-eh. Just Sayin’.

Dear Neighbor Kit-eh,
You are very fluff-eh and cutie-wootie.  So much so that I have to talk funny to properly express it.
But can I as a favor of your fluffieness?  Can we maybe think of a place to put our small dead things that does NOT involve my back garden?
For instance, nothin’ says lovin’ like leaving that crap on your owner’s front steps for her to find.

Kthxbai, Kit-eh.

Just Sayin’.

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May 23, 2013 · 2:22 pm

Oh Bun-eh. Just sayin’.

The short drive between The Casa and my parents’ place is usually littered with a sublime level of rabbit roadkill.

It seems especially horrifying as I am forced to drive back and forth with Jr, who only wants to listen to “The Bunny Song,” over and over.

It’s a little sick, actually.

Just Sayin’.

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May 20, 2013 · 9:52 am

What NOT to say…

image

I may hate this bush even more than I loathe Mega Coon. It was, like everything in our gardens, very neglected when we moved in. It was growing way out over the driveway, which meant there was a danger of it scratching The Mr’s Jeep that he thinks is a Bentley. So it, along with everything else on the property, go a pretty major pruning from the landacaper last year.
Only problem is that it was so unloved that pruning it made it look like ass. 

Also, it revealed tons of dead needles that had been concealed by the overgrown monstrosity.

It looks awful, and it is RIGHT IN FRONT of the house…. screaming ” HELLO, THE FAMILY INSIDE IS PROLY AS MESSED UP AS THEIR SHRUB!!!” (OK, maybe people don’t think that way, but I do, and I matter in this story.)

Removal is the ultimate plan.
But I uber-cringe every time I see it, so I decided to at least dig out the fire hazard from hell dead needles to see if it would improve the visual a bit.

2 big shopping bags crammed full of dead crap later, I was just finishing up when the year-out-of-high-school neighbor kid and his buddy returned from another Taco Bell run.
They waved, I pushed up my nerdy-as-hell super-awesome sunglasses that stack on top of my regular glasses and waved back.

“What are you doing?” inquired neighbor boy.

“Cleaning my bush!” I exclaimed.

And blushed burning red.

:::crickets chirping::::

Cue the Bevis and Butthead laughs.

That is way up there on the “what NOT to say to the teenager next door” list.  Anything having to do with bush, really. 

Gah. 
And I’m worried about what our SHRUBS say about me?

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