Oh, camp… I can’t even remember what day it is….
Oh, yeah, day 8. Teaching. Um, well. That’s what I do. For work, that is. And also because I generally love it – the money’s not good enough to make anyone stick around; you have to love it at least a little bit. Or, if you’re me, you also stick around because you have no other marketable skills. My kids are two, and don’t yet read (although they are great a picking their noses), so blogs mean very little to them.
Shall we play catch up? We shall.
Day 7. I don’t think I have a favorite for any meal – weird, considering I also had no guilty pleasures. Wow, do I love food blogs, though. And, yes, I would totally write one if I had enough motivation to do anything at all. Note my tumblr, which is all about lunch and hasn’t been updated in forever, and the last post wasn’t even my lunch. Maybe I should get back on that… or you could! You, too, could half-ass-ed-ly fulfill your food blogger fantasies and log your lunch!
Day 6. I never try new things because I hate new things. For real.
Day 5. Ummm…. I don’t know what I like best to do on my birthday. (See why I need to be kicked out of camp – can’t answer the damn questions.) Usually, LB and I have a party of sorts, because our birthdays are so close together.
Day 4. Being an adult surprises the shit out of me daily. What is this leaky pipe and why do I have to deal with it? Where did these bills come from? And who are all these damn cats and to whom do they belong?! I think the world of blogging has taught me about generosity. How to have it and how to be on the receiving end of it. Thanks for that lesson, Cali. For real.
Or, maybe a stage mother.
Either way! My boy kitten is going to be on film!
Here he is, all in cognito and shit, on cho-girl’s lap:
Sadly, I can’t figure out video on old WP. I was going to show you his audition tape.
See my friends? Over there, in the sidebar! Aren’t they cute? You, too, can send them money! Whee!
How about you log your lunch, too. Becuase I miss your lunches. I had left-over macaroni and cheese. So did CHO-girl. Hers was better. Poor me. Luckily, we both had coffee!
Once upon a time, a long time ago (well, really not that long), LB was born. It is her birthday today. At last year’s birthday, I had a bunch to say – it’s all still true. She’s the best there is. Hold your friends close, as the kids say.
Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday, dear LB,
Happy Birthday to you!
Go give her some birthday love. Just a couple x’s and o’s in her comments. Come on, you know you want to. She loves you, too.
Opps. I missed NaBloPoJuly-ing yesterday. Crap. To make up for it, I made Amish Friendship Bread enacted the Curse of the Amish Friendship Bread this afternoon. It seemed like a good idea and did free me of having any of the cursed starter left in my kitchen. It was like an exorsism. Anyway, I haven’t tasted it yet, and I played fast and loose with the recipe, as is my way, so who knows how it will taste. My small axillary red-head helped and got to take a bag of starter home for her pains (Hahahahaha! I curse her house with AFB! Hahahahah!). She also got to lick the spoon.
Other happenings in Starrhill:
*CLAW was last night and was bigger and louder and hotter than fuck. But I did get this hilarious picture out of it – look to the right, please. I like how it says “penalty” on either side of my head. Plus, wow, my posture! Go me. Also, go SARA – they got a shitload of money out of the deal, so yay!
*There are pics waiting to be uploaded of Teh Sauerkraut and the peach-blueberry crumble I made yesterday.
*I am trying to come up with ways to freeze cooking greens – ideas? Steam them and then spread on a cookie sheet to freeze and then pack into a bag? My cup other flow-eth with cooking greens. I froze some broccoli Monday.
*From Tuesday’s RE visit – 3 follicles, 2 on the right, one on the left. Old Clear Blue’s doing me wrong, though and won’t register a high reading, even though my CM tells me there’s a mess of estrogen floating around.
*Hard Girl is kicking my ass at NaBloPoJuly.
*The ants are out of fucking control. They are making a nest in my upstairs bathroom. A nest. With ant eggs and everything. Fuckers. I called my pest control guy (yes, I have a pest control guy – I tried every eco-friendly/alterna/home remedy solution under the mf sun and then gave up and called in the professionals) for an emergency visit. Whew. Ants in my bathroom. Fuckers.
Thanks for the love, y’all. Honest. Thanks. I hooked up with a whiskey and the IVP as soon as I got home tonight.
Meanwhile, while I was out, the black cat was chez-cho. Or, rather, at Spa CHO.