I Need To Tell Someone

Since there are only two of you reading this blog...I think I can confess the following and trust that you will both keep it to yourselves:

I like Air Supply's version of Sleigh Ride.

Thank you.

I feel better.

Update: I finally read my comments: Blast! Now there are three of you reading. Guitarman - you also are under strictest orders not to discuss this shameful revelation.

Appropriate For Today...

From my friend, Dave..


A winter statistic:


98% OF AMERICANS SAY "OH SHIT" BEFORE GOING IN THE DITCH ON A SLIPPERY ROAD.


THE OTHER 2% ARE FROM MINNESOTA AND THEY SAY, "HOLD MY BEER AND WATCH THIS."

A Typical Conversation With The Governor

Just now...

"Mom, guess if I have the purple stick behind my back or not!"

Okay. Um... You do NOT.

"AH! You're right! Now guess again." He ran out of the room and returned.

Hmm...this time you DO have the stick.

GAH! How did you know?

I know all things.

You LOOKED!

I did not. Are you accusing me of cheating?

He looked down at his feet and then looked at me. "Well, Mom, I was just concerned you might be."

Happy Thanksgiving, Black Friday, etc..

I hope you and yours had a wonderful day yesterday. Mine was memorable primarily for the fact that a little more than an hour after finishing our meal, The Senator shook me awake and announced, "I'm hungry."

Hungry. And he still had whipped cream on his face from dessert. I guess the ham, potatoes, peas, spinach, pineapple, rolls, rice, and cheesecake were merely a warm-up. I felt the bile rise in my throat as I sat up straight and tried to focus on his face. I was pretty certain I wouldn't need to eat again until Sunday.

I didn't want to leave the couch, but he kept staring at me, just like the dog does when he wants something. So I got up and fixed him another plate of food.

I'm starting to feel ill just thinking of it.

In other memorable happenings, I screwed up the Camp family tradition of putting up the Christmas Tree on Black Friday. I sent The VP down to the cellar to get the artificial tree and the tubs of Christmas decorations. He came back upstairs with the tree box and said, "Is it supposed to be this light?"

Well, I suppose it IS supposed to be that light when there is nothing inside the box. The memory came slamming back: our tree was nine years old. It was in bad shape. It could no longer look forward to any sort of quality of life, so I put it out of its misery and tossed it in the dumpster. For some reason, I saved the box. I do not know why. I'm a tosser, not a saver. Toss now, regret later...that's my motto. Execpt for Christmas fauna, I guess.

The boys were all excited to decorate the tree today, and I feel just awful about letting them down. Not awful enough to brave the parking lots/shoppers at Target to get a new one, mine you. But still awful.

I think I will go console myself with leftover cheesecake.

Touche

The Governor was acting up today and after two requests to settle down, I looked at him rather sternly and said, "Am I going to have to start snapping your DVD's in half?"

He looked at me as if I had just confessed to drowning kittens and said, "You would do that to your own children?"

I had to walk away before I apologized.

Dear Anonymous

No, the fingers are not frozen. Just my brain. A shame, really, because there has been a wealth of blogging material as of late. The farmer who piled up the metric ton of chicken manure on our field recently excavated the enormous mound and spread it on the field.

I'm not sure the neighbors will ever forgive us.

Several other good stories involving The Governor and the local PTA are dying to be put forth as well, but unfortunately, I am already late for an appointment.

Good to hear from you. Have a great Thanksgiving!

If I Had A Very Young Daughter, I Would Demand A Pre-arranged Marriage

I got out of my car in the Target parking lot today and heard a young voice say, "Hey, you know what?" I looked over, and across an open parking space was a mom and three very young children piling out of a mini-van. The oldest child, a boy, appeared to be about four years old. Maybe younger. It was this young lad who tossed the question at me.

What?
Your car is kinda....
Dirty?
Yeah, and your tires look low too.

In twelve more years, this fine young man will be not only filling his mom's car with gas for her, but he'll be checking the oil, changing the air filter, filling the windshield washer fluid, and rotating the tires.

The mom gave me an apologetic look. I felt like giving her my name and number and asking her to let me know when he opens his own service station.

Chicken Shit

Well, Chris, seeing as how you are the only one who reads this, I feel safe using a foul (ha!) word in the title. If my mother read this, I would no doubt have to substitue "manure" or "feces" or some other milder noun.

Pictured above is the giant mound of chicken manure (I just don't have it in me to be consistently crude) that I told you about in my earlier email. Truckload after truckload arrived one day to create this enormous, stinking pile. I thought once the hot weather had passed the odor would lessen, but as it turns out...a good soaking rain can do wonders to re-ignite the smell too. Thank goodness we live north of this organic pile of fertilizer; I'm sure our neighbors to the south have been omitting us from their prayers.

Hope all is well in AZ. Sorry to hear you were finally able to turn off the air conditioning.

Chris H.

When you go to enter a comment, does it ask you to choose an identity? If you select "anonymous" you don't need a Google account. Hopefully that option shows up for you. It does on my end. Let me know if you're still having trouble.

I'm Not Sure The Elves Still Make Those...

The Governor and I were discussing Christmas the other day, and I suggested he start thinking about a wish list for Santa. He started spouting off various caliber rifles he'd like to own. I told him, "No guns." He paused and said

"Okay. I'd like a Sparrow missile."

And just what would you mount it on? Your bike?

"I guess I'll just have to get an F-4 Phantom jet too."

I'm not giving up my garage stall.

Personally Killed By A Close Friend

Wasting Time

From Jim. A dead rat he found in his swimming pool. Right now, I should be typing up the minutes from the PTA meeting from a week ago Thursday. But no. I've found something better to do.

Life is Great; Life Sucks

Well, no. Life is great. Blogger sucks. I miss my old site. It took me ten minutes to figure out how to get into Blogger (via new, required Google account!). I'm still not sure what I'm doing. Right now I'm just typing away to fill space and avoid having to clean up the lunch dishes.

Heh...just playing around with downloading pictures now. Eh. We'll see.

Sorry.

Reduced to Blogger

As I warned many of you...at the first sign of technical difficulty, my blog would go down. For some reason, the Moveable Type screen I used to log in and post went 404 on me. I am assuming it's because I used the Cro-Magnon version of MT and the people at MT decided to quit supporting it. I don't know. At any rate, I can't get to my blog, and therefore I am have come crawling back to Blogger.

Someone just take me out in back of the shed and put the .22 to my temple.