My mind is racing around in several different directions today. And while none of those directions is really important in the whole scheme of things (like world peace or saving the environment,) I thought I’d share. Because y’all know how much I like to share. (Unless we’re talking chocolate, in which case sharing time would be over. Because I never said I was selfless.)


Give a one and a half year old a bowl of cereal, and he will give you a mess. Maybe you knew this, and deep down I really think I knew this, but today I was shown, again, how true it is. But…if it’s Apple Cinnamon Cheerios he’s eating, he’ll smell like an apple cinnamon muffin when he’s done. Yum. And it’s causing intense muffin cravings for me.


After several days of 90 degree weather, the fact that it’s now barely making it into the 70’s is very, very nice. And tomorrow is supposed to be even cooler. But we also have tickets to a baseball game (football to you, my son) and I hope it doesn’t get rainy and too cold. Baseball is just supposed to be enjoyed in warm weather.


Having a cold makes my son the world’s grumpiest child. I should put that in all caps – THE WORLD’S GRUMPIEST CHILD. And it also makes his eczema flare up. So not only is he grumpy, he’s also all red and inflamed looking. And snotty. Good Lord, the snot that comes out of this child.


McDonald’s has put double cheeseburgers on its Dollar Menu. Which makes my husband a Dollar Menunairre (or whatever the heck it’s called in that commercial with the guy from Married…With Children. And have you seen that commercial? Doesn’t that guy look awfully tan? Maybe even kind of orange? Like maybe he got a little too liberal with the self-tanner?) Anyway…what I’m saying is that my husband is very pleased that he can get a double cheeseburger for only a buck. And apple pies for a buck. Don’t forget the apple pies. (He’s drooling right now. Aren’t you, honey?)


I want to go to the beach. My husband wants to go to the beach. My kids want to go to the beach. And we live about an hour and a half away from the beach. Yet we cannot get ourselves to the beach because mother nature will not cooperate. Or sometimes it’s our bank account that will not cooperate. Or sometimes those pesky kids’ friends have birthdays and they will not reschedule them and cooperate. Cooperate, damn you, so I can go to the beach before Memorial Day, when everyone and their mother will be at the beach, cluttering the place all up with their coolers and blankets and umbrellas and radios and buckets and floaties!!!!

(Sorry, I think I may have spit on you a little bit when I was saying that. I got a little emotional.)


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