Camera phones are most useful when they are near big green singing dancing dildos.

I have reached the epitome of camera phone usage. No pictures I take from here on out will ever compare to the photograph I took this weekend with my camera phone. You may ask, "Did you see something amazing? Did the kids do something cute which you were able to capture with your camera phone? Did you discover a cure for cancer using your phone? Did you photograph a new wonder of the world?"

Okay, well, it's nothing of that importance, but I did manage to capture a shot of a children's toy that looks disturbingly like a giant green singing and dancing dildo. Without my camera phone, I would not be able to share this joy and wonder with you fine folks.






Wait for it.









And so, let me present the big green singing dancing Christian dildo:



Yes, I realize it's a Veggie Tale character (hence the fact that I proclaimed the big green singing and dancing dildo to be a Christian). I thought it was a cucumber, but the tag said asparagus. I don't really care (I have no desire to watch a show about a garden salad that is bathed in the blood of the lamb--now THERE'S a visual for ya). I just care that this thing cracked me the hell up.

What's even better than green singing dancing Christian dildo? A big green singing dancing Christian dildo near this sign:



Bwa ha ha ha!

I have long since taken issue with the use of woodland creatures on devices designed for female pleasure. Seriously, people, why am I supposed to be turned on by a rabbit, duck, bear, dolphin, worm or penguin? Fuzzy woodland creatures should be NOWHERE near that general vicinity. Hell, I'd prefer if they stay outside the city limits if at all possible.

Welcome to Tangentland. Population: Me.

Aside from that brief detour through the frightening ordeal that is my mind, I hope you got a much needed laugh from my new friend, the big green singing dancing Christian dildo. No, I didn't buy him, but leaving him behind was hard. Huh huh huh huh. I said "Hard." Huh huh huh huh

What's better than friends?

Friends with kids just slightly older than mine who have fabulous clothes to pass along.

Today, I sent dh to face the temple of doom (aka the attic) in an effort to retrieve a very special treasure (boxes of too big clothes that were exiled up there). He came down with two boxes. Some clothes are still too big, but we now have tons of warm weather wear for the wee ones.

Of course, I just bought TheBoy a bunch of shorts at a consignment store only to find we had about 10 pairs in his size in the boxes. Luckily, I didn't spend more than $2 on any of the ones I bought.

Although, one bag of clothes has gone missing. Of course it was the one that's chock full of the brand new tops my mother grabbed on clearance last year as well as most of the kids' summer shoes.

If you were a Spacebag full of super cute kids' clothes, where would you be?

If you were a mom forever in debt to her friends who managed to save her tons of money simply by passing along clothes, you would be bowing down before those friends.

Just when you think it's safe to leave the computer...

Seriously, people, I was away from the computer for one day--ONE FREAKING DAY. I promise it was nothing personal. I was just busy today. When I opened my Google Reader, it laughed at me. I swear it cackled at me. Between guffaws, it hissed, "Bet you won't leave me alone like that again, huh? That'll teach ya."

Damn it, people. WTF happened today? Blogs on my list that rarely have entries or that only have one entry a day are overflowing. WTF? Did someone pour verbosity over their cornflakes this morning? CUT IT OUT!

GAH! I'm too tired and it's too close to bed time to catch up with you all (and find out what in the hell you all have to say that had to be said RIGHT NOW), so you'll all just have to wait for tomorrow for any witty comments on your posts from me.

Once again, I repeat: GAH!

Memes, and books and Starbucks, oh my!

I saw this meme over at The Miss Elaine-Ous Life and I had to play along (books and a Starbucks card? How could I not?).

Here are the rules:

* Pick up the nearest book of at least 123 pages.
* Open the book to page 123.
* Find the 5th sentence.
* Post the next 3 sentences.
* Tag 5 people.

Here's mine.

Best Friends by Martha Moody page 123:

"Ben blinked. He still looked very young. Although he was almost eighteen, his beard wasn't fully formed, and I often wondered if he really had to shave. "That I am."

Meh. Not horribly interesting. Sorry about that. It's actually an unusual story. I think it's okay. I'm a little startled that my mother sent it to me. #1. She doesn't read. #2. The story features all sorts of debauchery of which my mother wouldn't approve. I assumed she sent it to me because there were a few brief references to breastfeeding, but when I asked her, she said she sent it because one of the characters comes to embrace her Jewish heritage.

This review I found at Amazon seems to explain it better than others (including the summary on the back of the book):

From Library Journal
Moody's first novel examines the dynamics of friendship between two very different women, Clare Ann Mann, a small-town Ohio girl, and Sally Rose, who hails from Los Angeles. Meeting as college roommates, the girls are surprised to learn that, paradoxically, Clare Ann is the worldlier of the two. Despite their many differences, the two form a bond that will last a lifetime or at least until the end of the book. Pared to one-third its length, this might have been a valid study of friendship. However, the drama disaster, disappointment, revealed lies, childbirth, drug abuse, AIDS, and so on continues ad infinitum and strains credibility. Expecting some form of closure at the end, the reader is left wondering where the next page is. It is as if Moody simply did not know how to escape the web. Having been a finalist for a Best American Short Stories anthology, Moody might find more success in that more succinct genre. Patricia Gulian, South Portland, ME
Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc

Now I'm supposed to tag 5 people. Hmmmm... Let's see: I'm tagging my sister (via e-mail), Giselle, Robin, Leah, and Phyllis (whenever she gets back from Israel).

This could apply to oh so many situations.

"Have you tried screaming in agony?"

That will be my new catch phrase.

This is why I believe in early potty training

So I don't have to endure this shit (no pun intended).



All my kids trained when they were too young to understand any of this. Although, I'm an adult and it baffles me.

I must admit that we did lose whatever scrap of dignity we had left during potty training. I can STILL recite the damn Potty Book For Girls from memory.

"Hello my name is Hannah. I have lots of fun each day, but first I need my diaper changed so I can go and play...."

I can recite nearly the entire book. And no, TheBoy did NOT get the boy's version of the same book. He had to deal with his sisters' girl's copy. We did, however, introduce him to the concept with a plastic boy doll, but that's only because we had to toss the doll his sisters used because they shoved food down it's mouth which I couldn't extract. I'm not leaving that thing lying around to attract bugs.

Once again, I extend my deepest thanks to my children for figuring out the whole potty training thing before we could get into any of this scary stuff.

Oh and am I the only one who thinks the kid in the end is going to sue his parents when he grows up over the fact that he will forever be known as the pooping kid?

Video found at Fist of Blog

Target: My husband does not see the humor

Am I alone here? I find this hysterical. I just keep cracking up. I told dh about it and he shrugged. After coming back to look at it again, I'm giggling yet again. I can't be the only one.

This guinea pig is a super hero to many men.

This cracked me up. I just had to share with my fine readers.

Guinea Pig Harem


When he read the story, dh asked, "Why did they have 24 females? Do they breed them?" I responded, "If they didn't before, they do now."

A recall and a WTF

Hobby Lobby Stores Recalls Easter Egg Containers and Spinning Egg Tops Due to Violation of Lead Paint Standard

Um...this baffles me . Follow along:

#1. It's just wrong to use camouflage eggs for an egg hunt.

#2. Nothing celebrates the resurrection of your deity quite like eggs decorated in a manner that resembles clothing worn for killing.

Make the tooth fairy's job easier

Tooth Fairy box from Capture the Moment

I just love that it's so simple, it involves recycling, it makes our job easier (while we use a pillow hanging on the door, those who have to reach under pillows will find it much easier to feel around for a box rather than a tiny tooth), her example is specifically for a boy thereby avoiding all the foofiness that most tooth fairy things cling to with glee and it's just plain old cute.

Your own personal Torah.

I know this is oh so wrong, but after reading Ima Bima's latest post, I can't stop singing Depeche Mode's Personal Jesus, only I substitute the word "Torah" for "Jesus."

I'm having a wee bit of trouble wrapping my head around the concept of Torah as our own personal truths. I accept Torah as the story of my people. For Pesach (Passover), we never refer to Moses taking, "Them," out of Egypt. He always leads, "Us." That way, it remains a part of us, not just some story from long ago.

I just have a difficult time thinking of the story of my mundane life as a part of Torah/torah. I'm not quite sure how I feel about the concept.

I'll save grappling with that intellectual dilemma for another day. While I'm not sure if this is what she had in mind, I'll share what keeps popping into my head for this.

I wish I had been a rabbi's child.

For our Purim play, the megillah will be chanted by several different people. One of them is the rabbi's oldest daughter who is just a kid.

We have to keep stopping them to ask where they are to see if our play matches up. None of us can understand Hebrew well enough to follow along. We're practicing Jews. That's insane.

I never had a real Jewish education. I found my way to more traditional Judaism when I was 21 and I've been learning ever since. While dh did have a Jewish education , the epitome of his Hebrew learning was at his bar mitzvah wherein he read (not chanted) his Torah portion only after MUCH tutoring and then promptly forgot everything he ever knew about the language. I have a strong desire to learn more, but it's so daunting.

I want my children to have a better grasp of Hebrew than we do. So far, so good. But there's only so much we can do for them. They're at a disadvantage because we are. I want more for them, but I don't know how to do that since we don't have that foundation ourselves.

If only I had been a rabbi's child. The rabbi's son was in my daughters' pre-k class at sunday school and he could identify gimmel when they were 3 years old. My kids knew the English alphabet forwards and backwards, but the Aleph-bet was completely unrecognizable to them (and largely to us as well). The rabbi's oldest daughter is chanting Torah with the adults. I long for that comfortable familiarity. I long for that effortless mastery. I long to be able to pass that along to our children.

I'm asking a favor of my fellow bloggers.

Dear all you wonderful blogging folks,

Please, PLEASE don't post anything for the next day or two. The first half of this week is very busy for us. Please just take a break. That way, there's a slim chance I'll be able to catch up before summer.

I feel lonely when my Google Reader is empty, but damn it, I can never keep up with you people if I'm going to be away from the computer for a few days.

So grab yourself a cup of coffee or wine (or water for all you pregnant folks--and there are an awful lot of you), put your feet up and just take a break for a few days.

Please. Pretty please?

More cute conversations with the wee ones.

I realize I'm probably the only one who finds this interesting. I'm terribly sorry for inflicting this upon you. Obviously, though, not sorry enough to stop.

Last night, TheBoy had a nightmare. Dh and I had already gone to bed, so I figured I'd bring the baby to bed with us. Problem was neither TheBoy nor I could sleep (dh was out like a light). So I put him back in his bed. He tried to stall. As soon as I did, he plead, "Go potty." So I sat him down and he went. Then he said, "Tee-ma." To which I replied, "We already said the Sh'ma when you went to bed the first time." Then he just asked, "Mama," in a sad and oh so tired tone. I said good night, kissed him and left. He called me softly one last time after I closed the door. When I didn't reply, he said, "Oh man." He fell right to sleep after that. I, however, kept giggling.

I'm in the Purim play at shul (I'm Zeresh. I wanted Vashti, but I got sucked in at the last minute, so I had to take what was left). I brought the big kids with me to rehearsal today. Girl1 got to fill in and be one of the king's options for a new queen. The women walk up individually and then "prance" before the king. Girl1 got up there, skipped across the stage, jumped to her spot in front of the king and flashed him and the audience a big smile. It was so cute. I was so proud. She had such a good time. She looked so comfortable up there.

So this evening, dh and I were discussing it while Girl1 sat on my lap. I said, "Maybe we should get her more involved with drama." Then Girl1 added, "dary." It took me a second, but I caught on and then we both laughed. That kid is GOOD.

Baby gives "the evil look" and I crack the hell up while watching it.

http://view.break.com/422660 - Watch more free videos

What the heck is Bah-Bux and other mysteries revealed

Here's the story behind the mysterious Bah-Bux. FTR, I had TheBoy say it for my sister today and her guess was "Mailbox."

Yesterday, I heard his car door close and told the kids, "Daddy's home." TheBoy went running to the open front door. That's when I heard him yell, "Bah-Bux," over and over again. Dh came in and TheBoy just kept saying, "Hi, Daddy. Bah-Bux."

That's when I asked Girl1 to translate for her brother. "He said, 'Starbucks'," she told me.

At that point, I jumped off the couch and ran to my lovely husband who held two Frappacinos in his lovely dear sweet hands.

Bah-Bux=Starbucks
Yes, my toddler can correctly identify not only the Starbucks logo (he will yell that when we pass one on the street), but also Frappacinos as well.

Here's more cuteness from my son.

Today, while donning only a shirt and socks, he announced, "Bye bye. Go out." I told him, "You can't go out without pants." To which he pointed to his bare legs and replied, "Ma-gin-erry pants." I didn't get it at first, but then he said, "Soos too," and pretended to put on shoes. Only then did I realize "Ma-gin-erry," is Toddlereese for, "Imaginary." I was quite impressed.

The other night, we got home late and dh put the big kids to bed. TheBoy was sitting on the couch with me starting to doze off. So I figured I'd buck tradition and just let him sit up with us until he fell asleep. Of course, he got his second wind and was wide awake. He tried everything to avoid bed. At one point, I told him, "You need to go to bed now." He said, "Nooooooo," in a sing-songy voice. He then looked up at me, reached towards my face and said in his cutest tone, "Pwetty eyes." He got another 10 minutes and lots of cuddles for that.

Tonight, I snuggled with him before bed and I told him, "You're beautiful." He said, "Boo-tee-full." Then he smiled, looked up at me and said, "Mama too."

You see that puddle over there? That's where my heart just melted.

Oh and he's funny at bedtime. He must say the Sh'ma. Well, someone has to say it. He's usually too busy covering his eyes to even try. If you forget it, though, he will yell, "Ma. Ma," while covering his eyes. He sleeps with a toy zebra. He has recently taken to covering his own eyes with one hand and covering the zebra's with the other while I say the prayer.

Atah meiveen?*

or
At meiveenah?**

Those of you in Israel, correct me if that's way off. The big kids and I are using a CD I found at the library to try to learn Hebrew, but unfortunately, that leaves me guessing at how the heck to spell things using the English alphabet.

How funny would that be if I screw up the title asking if you understand!

Today, the boy announced, "Bah-Bux." I've heard him say it many times and previously, I knew exactly what it meant, but for some reason, today, I couldn't figure out what he was saying.

Luckily, he is not an only child. I was able to ask his biggest sister to translate and she did (she speaks TheBoyish far more fluently than we do). We learned that trick years ago. That was one of the wonderful things about having twins. When we couldn't understand one, we asked the other and she would translate. The rare exceptions often involved a 2-year-old Girl2 with a very puzzled expression on her face, her hands out to her side (in that "I don't know" motion), her head shaking sideways to indicate, "No," and the announcement, "I do not know," in her sweet little voice. We used to joke that she was a cyborg because don't, can't, won't and the like were all absent from her vocabulary.

So, now, take your best guess. Do you speak Toddler-eese? What do you think Bah-Bux translates to in English?


I'll come back after Shabbat and post the whole story behind it. Until then, take your best guess. FTR, Bah-Bux is an English word.



*"Do you understand?" in Hebrew
**Feminine form of the same question

I swear I've dealt with this person.

Oh no. There are idiots like this outside the States? Damn it! I thought they were all confined to our borders. FTR, it's people like this who sent me running and screaming from retail when I was just a teen. I swore I'd never go back. I did briefly at a college bookstore, but that was a bit different.

At my first retail job, when the store was closing, we put up signs to alert people to that fact. Oh my stars and garters! The influx of asinine comments was astounding. That lead me to put up a sign that implored our clients, "Please refrain from asking stupid questions."

And yes, I had one middle-age woman who then went on to read the signs, ask a stupid question (After looking at the, "Store Closing on this date" sign, she asked, "What do you mean the store is closing?"). Only then did she see the stupid question sign. She then asked, "Was that a stupid question?" AHHHHHHHH.

9AM Might Be Best to Start with the Sunday Through Friday Ones

Caller: I need to know about courses on Saturday.
Bored operator: Which center would you like to go through to?
Caller: Yes, uh, Saturday courses. Nine o'clock 'til five o'clock.
Bored operator: Okay, which department?
Caller: Saturday -- S-A-T--
Bored operator: --Which center? Clapham, Vauxhall, Brixton?
Caller: Uh, no, I want to know about Saturday courses. Saturday courses!
Bored operator: Do you have a contact name? ... I'll just put you through to someone, then. Bye!

College
London
England

via Overheard in the Office, Mar 11, 2008

FTR, my refusal to work in the hell that is retail did not insulate me from the idiots. I had a conversation VERY similar to the one quoted above when I was trying to book tickets to go to my cousin's funeral. I'm sorry, but you have no right at all to be an idiot when someone has experienced a death in the family and made you aware of that fact right from the initiation of said phone interaction. If that person is being an ass, you have a little bit of leeway. I, however, was not. Well, I admit I did turn into one after I tried to tell the agent the same thing 5 or 6 times, but I was pleasant and polite initially.

Perhaps I'll post that conversation in the future. Maybe I'll submit it to one of the "Overheard" sites as well.

My husband is eviland oh so funny.

Girl1 lost yet another tooth last week. After stories, the girls talked with dh about the Tooth Fairy. He told Girl1 to be careful not to swallow the Tooth Fairy because he explained she might check in their mouths to see if any other teeth were loose.

When the girls were fast asleep, he stuck his head in the office and told me, "Let's get the tweezers and the flashlight and go in there and tell her she swallowed the Tooth Fairy."

We didn't, but the idea still cracks me up.

I adore his wicked sense of humor. :)

Thursday Thirteen: Cats

Here are 13 lolcats. I'm really not in a very creative mood, so instead of something profound from me, here are cats who don't speak good (he he he he).

1.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

2.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!


3.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

4.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

5.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

6.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

7.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

8.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

9.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

10.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

11.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

12....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

13.....

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!



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I'm up.

I think I have entered the Twilight Zone. It's just about 8:30 am. I'm up. I am the only one up.

Cue X-files theme: Do do do do Do dooooooooooo

My daughters never sleep this late. What in the world is going on?

Of course I actually slept last night (there's that choir of angels again), so after dh left this morning, I couldn't fall back to sleep. Instead, I got up, came to watch some t.v. and then hopped on here--all by myself. Wow. This is different and quiet. It's so very quiet.

I think I just heard TheBoy stirring, so I'll go spend some quiet quality one-on-one time with him while the sisters are in dreamland. I'll bet you $5 his first question will be, "Girl2?" That will be followed by, "Girl1?" I have no clue what his reaction will be when I tell him they're still asleep. I don't know if I've ever had to tell him that.

Weird.

Dear World Maths Day folks,

It may have seemed like a good idea, but I'm about ready to injure someone over at World Maths Day.

Both my big kids are signed up and ready to go. Problem is, I suspect the server is not prepared for the demand. We can't do anything. The games won't load. When we're finally able to get one to start, there's nothing there. A map pops up every once in a while, but then nothing happens. Occasionally, it kicks us out for a period of inactivity, but the only reason we're inactive is because THERE'S NOTHING THERE.

My kids were really excited to do this. The idea of joining people from all over the world playing math games was pretty cool. Now, though, that excitement is fading and I'm being met with questions like, "That's never going to work. May I watch Little House on the Prairie instead?"

So much for getting my kids excited about math.

Oh and I'm hanging my head in shame because after looking through the 100 top scores, I don't see a single American. Oy vey!

A lovely gushing thank you letter to my dear sweet son.

As I've mentioned, I've been ill as of late. I've been horribly congested which means no sleep for me. Coughing and that horrible "Can't breathe because I'm drowning in my own mucous" feeling keeps me from sleeping at night. Even taking two OTC sleeping pills at a time doesn't help much at all.

There is, however, a higher power who likes me and my son does as well. I can manage to fall asleep around 7 am. The big kids are up by then, but they can take care of themselves. Typically, this would be a disaster because it would give me only about an hour of sleep before the baby is up for the day. TheBoy goes down at 7 pm and is typically up around 8:30 am. Sometimes, on the weekend, we get lucky and he'll allow us all to sleep later, but it's his routine to be up around 8:30 on weekdays. This was endlessly useful when I was going to the gym. When I'm stuck home with a cold, though, not so much.

Ever since I've been sick, TheBoy has been sleeping until at least 10:30 am. Oh dear sweet child, THANK YOU. I need that little extra bit of sleep oh so very much.

Today, he was up around 6:30, just before dh left for work. I thought the worst, but nope. Thanks to my lovely husband, my dear sweet son and the grace of G-d, it all worked out. Dh took TheBoy to the potty. He went then insisted, "Go play now." Dh nixed that idea and put him back to bed where he went back to sleep and has been sleeping ever since. Have you seen my time stamp? It's after 11 am.

And yes, a choir of angels did sing.

What's better than that? The child is still taking naps during the day. Granted, it's not the 3 hour naps he usually takes, but he has still been napping for 1-2 hours. Given that he's sleeping at least 2 hours later than usual, it's a miracle that the child is napping at all.

Thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU.

Being grateful for the experience

I'm not exactly certain where this is coming from. I sat down to finally do some fiction writing. Instead, I found the prompt inspired this rant.

When Oprah got all orgasmic over The Secret, I sat up and thought, "Hm...this could be promising." Then, one of the featured, "experts" (don't get me started) made an unforgivable comment. He told a woman who had divorced an abusive husband that she should thank him for the experience because she wouldn't be who she is without it.

I wanted to jump through time and space and strangle that man. I've worked with far too many abuse organizations to think that concept could ever be useful. The idea of thanking someone for abuse is disgusting. The thought of a 7-year-old relative thanking the teenager who raped her makes me want to injure someone (HIM). The thought of dh's elderly grandmother thanking the S.S. officers for not only destroying her life in Germany 60+ years ago, but then having to relive the whole ordeal now absolutely crushes me. What is wrong with the world that not only do such atrocities happen, but now we're supposed to turn around and say, "Thanks so much?"

Monday, I happened to catch Oprah's show I wanted to hear more about The Big Give. One of the contestants featured spoke briefly about how she was abused during her childhood, but she is grateful for it because it made her who she is today.

WTFityF?

Eli Wiesel (who I read before Oprah featured him in her stupid book club) dealt with suffering and meaning in Night. In the wake of the Shoah, we must ask ourselves, "Why?" There is no definite answer and there will be no end to our questions. Good things have happened since then, directly and indirectly related to those horrors, yet how could we ever dare to think of saying we are grateful for such destruction?

When I read Wiesel in college, my take on suffering was the same then as it is now. I also think it might be more in line with what Oprah's cronies are suggesting. I don't know that things always happen for a reason, but I believe we each have the opportunity to GIVE them reason. We can use that as springboards to something better.

If we were abused, we are left with a choice--to dwell, to destroy or to do. We don't need to be grateful for the abuse. I find that idea absolutely disgusting. Abuse does not make anyone into a better person. That person decides where he/she wants to go from there. That person needs to be grateful for his/her own strength and perseverance. THAT is what makes the difference. The abuser did not make you a better person. The abuse did not make you who you are today. YOU make the conscious decision to do that yourself.

Overheard in my office

Me: How do you spell, "Role model?"
Dh: R-O-L-E space
Me: Oh. Gah. You can stop. Ugh.
Dh: No, that's not something you put butter on.
Me: Well, you could try. The ability to butter one's role model depends directly on how old he or she is and how fast that person could run...

More writing inspiration

I have yet to tackle my oh so creative writing prompt, but I stumbled across something at Zen Habits that I wanted to share with my writer friends.

31 Ways To Find Inspiration For Your Writing

I have the most wonderful friends who have the most wonderful kids.

One of my friends has a particularly brilliant (and hysterically funny) little guy. He's far too smart for his own (or his parents') good. Although, he does provide wonderful fodder for her blog. He has done it yet again and it's hysterical.

She blogged about some of his latest exploits, but she left off another one that had me guffawing out loud (for those with an aversion to LOLing).

I'm going to paraphrase her report from memory. Hopefully, I won't screw it up. If I do, I trust that she'll correct me in the comments.

While at church, he was climbing on something (a railing? the pew?). She chastized him and in full Catholic mom mode, asked, "Does Jesus climb on your furniture? No. So you don't climb on his. This is Jesus' house. He doesn't come over and jump on your bed, so you stay off his furniture." So he stopped and after a moment, he looked up and said loudly, "But, Mommy, I LIKE Jesus. If he wants to come over and jump on my bed, he can."

At that, the priest had to take a break from leading mass because he cracked up too. I had the same reaction.

Hacking a cough

Does anyone have any hacks (oh the puns!) for coughs and/or congestion? I'm dying here and my sanity (and sleep which is directly related to my sanity) rely on your help.

I've tried honey.

I tried the generic equivalent of vapor rub (both on my chest/neck as is traditional and also on the soles of my feet).

I tried a sleeping pill.

I tried another sleeping pill a while later when the original combo didn't help.

Quick, someone give me some ideas--preferably from something that already exists in my cabinets because I'm not going for a walk in the wide wide world where I can pass around the cough.

Overheard at my house

I made this comment today to the dog,
"Your brother doesn't need your help. Leave him alone. (pause) Now you see what I mean? You try to help him out and he jumped on your head."

A productive member of society

I'm trying to force myself to think in new "outside the box" ways and do some writing. I need to do something a bit more creative than schleping through the endless lists of blogs in my Google Reader. Unfortunately, that productive thing is not working (and I marked 94 entries as read just to end the insanity).

I had a brilliant idea. I would ask dh for a word (without an explanation). I would then head to our bookshelf and find a book with that word in the title. From there, I would ask him for a number and turn to that page. After he supplied another number, I would count down that many lines and use that as the opening for a short fiction piece.

He gave me the word, "Cup." After some initial hesitation (aka freaking out), I realized that while I don't see that in any titles (which genius came up with this idea? We have several hundred books on our bookshelves. How in the hell am I supposed to read through all the titles in search of a single word?), I knew I owned a book with a picture of a cup on its cover. Good enough. I searched and found that book. Then I left it on the couch while I ran around doing completely random and relatively useless things.

Give me a moment to get all the sighing out of my system. Then we'll see where I go from here.

11:17 pm edit: After turning to a random page (621) and asking dh for a number (34), I came across this paragraph which I adore,

"Not even then did she speak. As a powerful Jewish woman, intelligent beyond the average and capable in many untested directions, she began to find reassureance in her unexpected resolve, which she expressed only to herself by keeping her hands pressed tightly against her sides until her fingertips grew white with controlled fury, and in that insolent pose she stared back at the rabbi until the pusillanimous lawgiver left the room....

It's actually from one of the stories that bothered me the most in the novel (Shimrith, her evil brother-in-law, and Jewish law regarding a childless widow with a childless brother-in-law). It's such a powerful paragraph. Hmmm... Perhaps I can do something with this.