• No siree!

    A family of three gather in the only child’s bedroom. The father is hanging the six year old girl’s clean clothes in the closet – the very model of the modern husband. The young girl is taking her time picking up her dirty clothes. The mother is uncharacteristically standing idle, watching the scene unfold in front of her.

    Suddenly impatient, mommy warns: “Beth, if you don’t hurry up we won’t have time to play before bedtime.”

    “Oh mommy, you’re just joking.”

    Daddy chimes in: “come on Beth, when was the last time you heard mommy tell a joke?”

    “When I was three and a half.”

    Did anyone present find this exchange funny? Was Beth attempting to practice with her budding sense of humor, was she serious, or was she merely saying the first thing that came to her young mind? Did Beth ever pick up her dirty clothes? How much of that catchup came out of the princess shirt? How did I manage to get a tortilla chip fragment in my eye? Does anyone else find that seam across the top of the toe in most socks annoying as hell? Is there intelligent life elsewhere in the universe; and if so, would they like catchup in their scrambled eggs?

    Yeah, I don’t know where I was going with that either.

  • Monday night, Tuesday morning.

    I feel a crushing weight of despair over the Bucs early morning loss to the Colts. I stayed up to the bitter end… if only I had gone to bed while they were way ahead. I would have gotten a poor night’s sleep, but at least I would have slept. Now I’m up, as alert at 1:30 a.m. as I would be at 1:30 p.m. The upside to all of this is that I won’t spend a lot of time falling asleep – there’s not enough time for it.

    Tomorrow’s forecast calls for lots of sugar, with isolated doses of caffeine.

    Reader beware: Monday night football + work day x early morning meeting = tomorrow. Stay back at least 50 feet. You have now been warned. The author will not be held responsible for any harm that may come to readers who fail to yield as directed.

  • Tickling the palate.

    An old family friend made it’s way back into our cupboard. Beth went in for her allergy skin test a few weeks back, and we learned she was allergic to a lot more things than we thought; but that’s not important right now. We learned she’s no longer allergic to peanuts.

    CAN I HAVE AN ALLELUIA?!?

    Four weeks, one blood test, a peanut butter cracker, and two hours of observation at the doctor’s office later, and we found ourselves at Publix buying ourselves into a flood of peanut products only Noah could appreciate. Seeing a cylinder of peanut paste at Publix was like running into your high school sweet-heart at a homecoming game and learning you’re both single. We got home and picked up right where we left off.

    I think I’m in love.