What was that about Global Warming?
Further evidence that Al Gore is a moron.
Snow. In March. In the South.
The Son clearly is not enjoying it.
A poem for the snow day.
Variations on a Theme by William Carlos Williams
1
I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer.
I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do and its wooden
beams were so inviting.
2
We laughed at the hollyhocks together
and then I sprayed them with lye.
Forgive me. I simply do not know what I am doing.
3
I gave away the money that you had been saving to live on for the next ten years.
The man who asked for it was shabby
and the firm March wind on the porch was so juicy and cold.
4
Last evening we went dancing and I broke your leg.
Forgive me. I was clumsy, and
I wanted you here in the wards, where I am the doctor.
ShoeShe with a side of rice
We are thinking a lot about shoes here at thehuckablog household.
For one thing one of my absolutest, bestest friends, ShoeShe Lynn Crawford has agreed to be my editor, cuz HeyYou nos nuttin bout riten n spellen. Syntax? No need, I am in a monogamous relationship. Anyway, hopefully she will also write an occasional post and post some pictures for us.
Also, shoos, as The Son would say, have been a bit…um we will go with challenging….in the last couple of weeks. His feet grew a full size overnight, and the only shoes that fit were his yellow Old Navy galoshes. See post above, the snowman is wearing them. Anyway, I ordered him some new Converse Hightops, and some little brown Striderites. Still. Not. Here. Kid has NO SHOES. I finally broke down and bought him some little tan crocs, well fake crocs, Fauxrocs, and he will not leave the damn things on. So in essence my eighteen-month old has been running around barefoot in 40 degree weather for two weeks. Any suggestions short of duct tape? Shoe shipment should be in soon.
Filed under Friends-All three of them, Parenting for Dummies, The Son | Comments (4)Have you ever had your Library card cut up? Um, me either.
I got another nasty letter from the Library today. So begins the cycle of enjoyment, guilt, and shame.
You see….confession time….I am a bad book borrower. I go to the library and get armfuls of books, voraciously fly through all of them in a week or two, return them and only go back for story time with The Son for weeks at a time. After a month I get a letter, “Dear Mrs. Hey You, Our records show that the books Bodice Ripper in Bali, and Natural Family Planning (side note: Have y’all actually read about Natural Birth Control? You can only have sex six days a month and those are the days you least feel like having it!! It should be called Birth Control by Abstinence) have not been returned and are four weeks past due. Please return them immediately and if this is a problem please contact us at blah blah blah.” No big deal, I casually look for the missing books that are lost because I never really read them and they never made it out of the car.
A month later, “Dear Mrs. Hey You, We here at the County library depend on our borrowers to return books so that we can keep our costs low. You still have not returned Bodice Ripper in Bali (horny much? Try reading less and using The Pill instead of that hippie natural crap), and Natural Family Planning ( you know this does not work right? Look at Michelle Duggar) Your borrowing privileges have been revoked until the mentioned items have been returned or paid for. Blah, Blah, Blah.” I have the good grace to at least feel slightly ashamed that I have lost library books, AGAIN. I look for them in the garage thinking that the husband dumped them in there when he cleaned out my car. Nope. Oh well. La-de-dah, I will worry about that another day.
Next month, “Listen up Lady! Give us back our damn books! We LOANED them to you. That means you GIVE THEM BACK!! We are all talking about you and your book choices and we have plastered them all over the internet for people to laugh at, (ha ha, I already did that, that’ll show you!) You may not ever come here again if you do not give us back our books!!” The Husband sees this one, finds the books, drives to the library, pays the two dollar late fine, apologizes for me, and has my card re-instated. I hide in car, ashamed to show my face.
The next week I check out arm loads of books and promptly lose The Passion in Paris and Parenting Toddlers for Dummies.