First, thanks to all for the supportive comments on my password protected post. Nicki said I need to harness my heretofore unrealized powers of discontent and discord (I maybe changed her wording a bit there), so I’ve been practicing. Here is my latest evil spell. Tell me what you think:
May the whisper of butterfly wings be the most disturbing thing in your life today.
That should really tick some people off. If we suddenly find ourselves at war with Canada, you’ll know why and, naturally, it will be my fault.
Also, many thanks for the suggestions and insight into our cat problems. I went out and bought a second litter box and that has helped. Actually, it isn’t technically a litter box. It is this huge plastic bin thingy with low sides that they sell at Lowes. The picture on the sticker affixed to the bins shows them being used for mixing cement, feeding three horses at a time, stuff like that. We had one before we moved but it didn’t come with us. Now we have a new one, I’m keeping a thin layer of litter in the bottom since he seems to prefer harder surfaces, and for now he seems appeased. I still need to get him to a vet, though. Not that he’s acting sick, but, you know, just to make sure there isn’t some medical problem that makes him think the living room is The place to go.
Last night Midge was “playing” the piano when we suddenly heard the slam of the fall-board (can I just tell you how amazed I am that my brain pulled that term out? I was about to call it the lid thingy that covers the keys when, BAM! Out came fall-board. It gives me hope than one day, long after the kids are grown, my mental faculties will return). Anyway, we heard the slam of the fall-board and a high-pitched scream and then Tank Boy saying, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!!!!!” I stuck my head in the dining room to remind them the piano isn’t a toy (no, the piano isn’t normally in the dining room, but what with the living room carpet being torn up and the wood flooring not yet down . . .).
Anyway, Midge then came tearfully into the kitchen to tell her dad and me all about how she wasn’t playing with the piano, she was playing the piano, just playing the piano, when Tank Boy, that horrible, awful brother of hers, came in and flipped the fall-board down on her bottom lip.
We tried. We really, really tried not to laugh at her. Really. But weren’t YOU expecting me to tell you about her injured fingers? Because I was expecting her to tell me about her injured fingers. Her lip is fine, by the way.
Forever and a day ago I was tagged by Jeanne to do the book meme. Forever and three days ago I was tagged by Tami to share some odd things about myself. No time like the present. I mean, this post is wandering all over the place anyway, right?
So for Tami’s meme I am supposed to share seven random or weird things about myself and then tag seven other people. Hmm . . .
1. When I was in college I would occasionally get this odd rash on my legs that looked like hickeys. I’m not exaggerating. It looked exactly like hickeys. It wasn’t raised or bumpy or itchy or anything else. It just looked like I had hickeys on my legs. I wore a lot of black nylons then. And, no, I never found out what it was and it hasn’t come back since.
2. I only know what hickeys look like because I went to public high school.
3. Okay, fine. Along the same lines we’re already on . . . I bruise VERY easily and quite accidentally. So there. Somebody grab the smelling salts for my mother.
4. I’ve had stitches in my chin. Twice.
5. I prefer natural childbirth to the epidural or c-section methods (and yes, I’ve experienced all three), but adoption is my favorite.
6. I have to shave my toes or I look like a hobbit.
7. I wish Dancing With the Stars would do a Dancing With the Moms season, and pick me to dance with Derek (or, as I call him, Cute Boy).
Now for the book meme:
The closest book is Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. I haven’t read this book yet, so it will be interesting to see what the fifth sentence on page 56 is since I have no context for it whatsoever.
The temple guards would reinforce our own; the whole house must be guarded, for the people were weather-cocks – there might be a change of mood, even a rescue.
I know I’m supposed to tag people now, but I have a little boy waiting for lunch a his nap snuggled up on my shoulder, so rather than do all that extra typing and linking, I’m just going to say you’re all it.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says to watch for falling fall-boards.