My Biscuits are Burnin'

Asking a witch to be tolerant is a little much, don't you think, fellow witches? I don't know about you, but when I'm feeling particularly witchy, I'm far-far-away-on-Judea's-plains from tolerant. And, it's the little witch's fault that our children can't dress up on Halloween for school. That's not tolerant. Mitchell and Sugar, maybe you should remember who we're dealing with here. And, if the witch doesn't like her family's rituals, why doesn't she curse them or hex them or something? That's what I do.

Last night we had hamburgers for dinner. Just the way Mr. Man likes them -- on the grill, with some bbq sauce slathered on in the final stages. He likes the smell. It's magical for him. So, I timed it right for when he pulled into the driveway after work. That's what he smelled. He was happy. And I'm freaking wonderful.

But then I forgot that the magical buttered buns were under the broiler. I burned those mutha's!! So, the outside smelled like grilled deliciousness, while the inside smelled like a mistake. I grabbed them out of the oven as fast as I could and hurled them outside into the driveway. I can't stand lingering food smells. Especially when I sleep. The kids thought I was mad when they saw me running with a pan of charred buns and threw them outside. I scared them a little. The kids, not the buns. Although I'm sure the buns were pretty scared as I slowly killed them under the broiler.

Speaking of how wonderful I am, I think my husband is lucky. His favorite foods are hamburgers, pizza and tacos. His taste buds are stuck at 10 years old. Sunday night for dinner, it was homemade pizza. Last night, hamburgers. Tonight, my taco salad. You'd think I was trying to impress him or something.

And one more thing - I was helping Kate blow dry her hair last night. She was kneeling down in front of me. Her nightgown was up and her undies were riding low. Butt-Crack-Sally was visiting. So, I pulled her undies back and gave her a little blow dry to the cheeks. She quickly grabbed her buns and yelled, "My biscuits are burnin'!" She's quick.

Losing My Head

We call our kitchen garbage can "R2." The kids named him. He's looks like R2-D2. I think he's had that name for about 7 years now. When the kids scrape food into the garbage can, they have to take off R2's head, or else food gets all over his head. And nobody likes a disgusting garbage can lid. Or, when Kate has to barf, she needs to take off R2's head, because nobody likes barf all over the garbage can lid.

Tonight, Kate was clearing off the table after dinner. I was in a big hurry, and rushing around because we had to be somewhere. In my confusion, I told Kate to take off Abby's head and scrape her plate. That was a good joke for the night. My job was done for the evening. I could then go back to being mean and grouchy.

Speaking of mean and grouchy, there seems to be a bit less of that going on at my house lately. I think it has something to do with my little orange pill. I think I like it. I'm feeling much better. Much.

And Sunday was our last week in our ward. It's sad to leave. Especially leaving the young women. I finally had a good cry today as I thought about all of my memories and work, and how much I love those girls and how much I'm going to miss them. We have some great friends here. It's sad to leave. But in the same breath, I'm very excited to move. We're going to have a little more room to stretch our familial legs. It's getting a little cramped in our tiny house.

Strange Bed Fellows

In my bed.

Some Pig

Here they are -- watching Charlotte's Web together. I'm starting to think that Abby doesn't need a baby brother. She has Mr. Piggy. She has 3 favorite things she likes to carry around: Piggy, some sort of car, or naked barbie.

How would you like to hear a knock on the door at 11pm, and you open it to find Mr. Piggy standing there? Shudder. I would have bad dreams. Actually, I'm thinking that could be a pretty good prank. . . .

One of my sister's bought a Chuckie doll, and her girls are terrified of it. She uses it as a motivational tool. "You don't want to clean your room? Well, let's see if Chuckie will make you clean your room." "OK MOM! OK OK OK OK!" Hilarious, though probably slightly wrong. But still, hilarious.

Where's My Dog?

Kate cleaning up the Mother's Day Rootbeer disaster. I just stayed in the bedroom, working on my lesson for young women, when I heard all the drama go down. Abby got hold of the 2 liter with no lid - thanks to Kate - and went to town. When everyone was fluttering about in the aftermath, I just stayed in my room. Mother wasn't around, that's why Kate was drinking rootbeer at 8 am.


I went grocery shopping last friday and bought a package of the ball parks. Notice anything missing? I guess someone was hungry at the Winco meat deli, and just wanted one weiner. So sick. I returned the package and got a new one.

Abby's new best friend. It's a piggy bank Neal's mom made for him when he was little. Abby carries it around everywhere like a baby and calls it her "piggy." It's cute, although somewhat creepy.

So, after lots of tests and meeting my crazy insurance deductible for the year, the doctor told me I have anxiety and depression. That's a tough pill to swallow. Actually, it's kind of small and orange, but still. . . .




Suck it!

I'm Grateful to Be a Mom

Shining in the Shower

Kate came bounding in from school yesterday and ran down the hall to her bedroom. I followed her and thought I smelled the faint scent of onions. When I went into her room, I said, "Dude, Kate, have you been choppin onions or something?" She looked at me like I was crazy.

Me: Lift up your arms.

*SNIFF SNIFF*

*GAG*

Kate: What?

Me: You need to start using deodorant. You have big-time body odor.

Kate: You are a big fat loser and you have body odor (quoted from School of Rock. She loves that show).

Sorry Mrs. Clark. Sorry you had to smell that smell. And sorry Mr. Batsell, the "used to be so hot, but he's let himself go and gone all scruffy and puffy" P.E. teacher (he's seriously let himself go). Kate is pretty excited to wear deodorant. Here's to hoping the novelty never wears off.

Speaking of bathroom duties, Abby has been driving me nuts lately when I shower. She loves to slide open the door and poke her head in very "The Shining" like, and grin her toothy grin. It lets the cold air in and cramps my style. Especially when I'm shaving the legs. But it's cute. Not me, but her.