Hi again

So, here's the deal. I cannot handle the comment thing anymore. So I moved the blog. But in the interests of not making you all move with me, AGAIN, I am in the slow, painful process of cutting and pasting all of the old posts over here. (Blogger really like to make you WORK for it.) I redirected you all here. Yes, the colors are different, but when you are going back and forth and back and forth from tab to tab cutting and pasting, you need it to look a bit different or, well, things go wrong. Things like no comments.

If, for some very strange reason, you find yourself unable to go on any further in life without my previous 98 posts, or you have a green deficiency that only I can fill, the old blog is all still there. Just click here.


I've done the breakdown of you, my dear readers, based on the comments left last week. It's pretty interesting, those results:
  • One guy is trying to make atonement (it's made, by the way)

  • One guy was surfing for blue-collar porn

  • One dad has a Tron fetish (we'll lump that in with the porn)

  • One guy apparently likes prolonging torture

  • One guy tripped and fell on me (like I've never heard that before)

  • Two dads who are contractually obligated to read this mess

  • One mom is plotting to steal my kid

  • Three moms think I'm funny

  • One chick just loves me

  • Two single, hot, kidless chicks fueled by jealousy

That totals 14 readers. There's no way that's right, but heck, lurkers lurk. Lurk on, lurkers.

50% of my readers are men, 28.57% of whom are perverts. 35.71% of my readers have no children. 22.22% of you have no children and no uterus. 14.2% of girls have no kids, and 100% of those girls have dogs the same way I have kids. Not that they got them the same way, because that's just gross, but that they adore their dogs and they walk them more th....oh, you get it. I should also mention that my cousin Kathy reads it, and she is A) related to me, B) a mom and C) and this is the whammy....CANADIAN! That means that she is the one person reading that really, truly fits what should be my target demographic. Hi, Kathy!

That's right; I showed my work. That gets me a 1 grade letter higher test score, thank you very much. Thanks for playing, those who did. Those who didn't, and you know who you are, go play now!

Girls. I apologize

Why? Because my sons are going to make terrible husbands someday. They will not help around the house. Even if you pay them.

I PAY them to make those beds. Looks like I just saved a buck today. And, um, the laundry basket is TWO inches from the newly formed pile of laundry. Two whole inches.

They are not toilet trained. This I can understand

But this? Come on. #1, seat UP. Period.

And while I'm at it....did you know that Sharpie makes a super permanent industrial strength permanent marker?


did I.

I'm too hot for the PTA

2of3 is, by being two-of-three, the middle child. This is a role that he embraces whole-heartedly. I swear he's got a check list of house rules that he keeps stashed under his pillow, and every night before beds plots full-fledged warfare on another one. His favorite (and my least favorite) to break is the "You MAY NOT ask for playdates rule". We have this rule because he will ask anyone within a 5 mile radius for a playdate, regardless of their schedules, our schedule, or their level of body odour. It's seriously the single most annoying thing he does. And he's really convincing in his requests. He will convince a full grown adult that his mother and he and the child of the adult in question have taken thorough steps to plan the world's best playdate ever, ensuring that the parent will say "yes" without a moments hesitation, because they naturally assume that they have forgotten some key element of this arrangement, they must have just forgotten, if this kids mom is in the know.

Dear Vancouver Parents,

I am NOT in the know.

This little tick my son has causes me to have a house full of children all the time. In Denver, it caused my son to go home from school with a random assortment of other parents. Like I said, he's convincing. So convincing that school administrators fall for it.

Yesterday, as the boys were coming in the door from school, 1of3 ran upstairs to tell me that 2of3 had made a new friend at school and that they wanted a playdate. He then told me that the kid was here, and so was his dad. I go to the door and there, sure enough, is a random child, with his random little brother, and his random dad, too. 2of3 had totally convinced this guy that his son was due for a playdate at Chez Mr. Lady and that his mom (me) was totally ok with it and that the kid was to just walk home with my kids. At least the dad had the sense to walk with them. But he really believed that this was a planned thing, and maybe he'd just forgotten about it somehow.

What's fun about this is that we were going out for fancy-pants dinner last night and I was just about ready to leave for the dinner when the boys came home. And so, unlike a normal mom on a normal afternoon, answering the door in yoga pants and a ponytail, I answered the door in this...

With the hottest red lipstick you've ever seen. With my strappy red heels. With my hair all done, curled in that way you can curl you hair in a few random pieces that makes it look as though at one point it was perfectly curled and then you spent a very engaging afternoon in the naked company of someone else.

I looked, hot. Way hot. Way too hot for a mom at 3:30 in the afternoon. I wish I had a camera in my hand so you could see the look on this guy's face as I opened the door.

I cannot wait for the first PTA meeting.

In the kitchen

I am tired. Why? Because yesterday after 12 hours and 4 airplanes, Josh came home. And he liked my hair. And we stayed up awwwll night long....
Watching Top Chef.

Do you ever watch that show? I, personally, have never missed an episode. I heart it. I don't love how the producers get to keep some people who clearly need to go, just for dramatic flare. But otherwise, I think it's fun. I like to think of how I would do on the challenges they give, and usually I'd do amazingly, astonishingly badly. Last nights', however, I instantly had a really great idea for. It was upscale BBQ. I think I'd have won that one, for sure. The only other one in the history of the show that I knew without a doubt I would have nailed was the one where they had to cook a meal and the only ingredients they could use had to be purchased at a convenience store. Kwik-E-Mart cooking? Yeah, I've got that.

And so, in honor of my very hot welcome home night with my husband, today's picture is of me. In a kitchen. It's killing me to show you this, by the way.

This was taken by my friend Jen, and I think that maybe I'm just 21 in it? Why, yes, my shirt DOES say "Oregon Makes Me Wet". How kind of you to notice! (It's a pun, a play on words? Get it? Dude, that was seriously my favorite shirt. I said I had a great ass; I NEVER said I had taste.) I had this habit of running around, vacuuming, answering doors, whatever, in nothing more than a t-shirt and a pair of undies. Just ask the-other-Josh. He and my friend JD came over to say hi one day and I answered the door in a different t-shirt, but dressed just like you see me up there. Fun part? I locked myself out. Funner part? Josh & JD had to scale my townhouse to try to get on the roof to try to break in a window. That failed, but we did find some G.I. Joe paratroopers on the roof whose parachutes had never been used and ended up having a grand old time waging warfare on each other. Of course, I was wearing next to nothing at the time, and I'd be willing to wager that Josh and JD had a significantly better, if not less self-conscious, time than I did.

Anyway, I like to cook, it rains alot in Oregon, Josh and I have been married way too long. And there's your Wednesday dose of pictorial horror.