Vicious Cycle

7000 acres and they still use the living room, kitchen, and hallway as a racetrack. If I say, "stop running in the house" one more time I might just explode. Every time I turn around there are at least 3 kids and 2 dogs and sometimes a bike or two flying past me, hundred miles an hour. Screaming, screeching, giggling and barking crashing, smashing, crying, fighting, tattling...  But I love every minute of it!

Common-Tater

For some reason I can't comment on my own blog? Don't worry, I wasn't trying to third person myself or reveal a split personality, I was just trying to answer some comments I had! From strangers! From people other than my Mom and Auntie-from-Ontario! No offense, I love your comments too, but the fact that strangers stopped by and took the time to comment has made my week! So, I'm not being uppity now with my new stranger-commented-on blog status, I just cant answer, I think it's a dial-up issue... and since I AM NEVER MOVING AGAIN, there is just nothing I can do about that. So in answer to your comments...... The skating was survived with minimal injuries, we are going to try it again tomorrow. And yes! The hamster is very frigging scary! He has his own salad tongs now, so I don't have to bleach mine so much. They will come in handy for the hedgehog Ellie-May is saving up for. yay. Teeth AND quills.

Sleep Talker

Ever read the blog Sleep Talkin Man? I read it all the time. It's pretty funny. Mostly because my husband is also a sleep talker. He yells, laughs, swears, and occasionally throws punches.  A few weeks ago I heard him laughing so hard in his sleep, so I went down to see what was so funny, and he tells me to "check out the costco-lookin bitch in the corner". I started to laugh and asked him what he was talking about, and his answer was "gulbranson boobies".  A few days after that, I was laying in bed watching tv. He was sound asleep and had been for hours. I can tell by his obnoxiously loud breathing. I was laying flat on my back and he was laying on his side facing me. With out any warning at all, and faster than I could have ever imagined, he punched me right square between the eyes. Pasted me right in the glasses, driving them right into my eyeballs with such force I swear it turned my eyelids inside out. I yelled out in pain at the same time HE did as well! "What the hell are you doing?!" I yelled. "oh ow! something happened with your tooth or something!" he says. "You just punched my frigging lights out!" I screamed at him. He pats my head like a little dog and says "sor-ry" in a singsongy voice and is instantly sleeping again, if he even woke up in the first place. The next morning he had no recollection of anything. Or did he...? Tonight as I was writing this post, we again heard yelling from the bedroom so we snuck down to listen to him. " What the frick are you doing, CHAIR?! Ya those are my pipes, what are yours? Oh your laughing?! O really?!
Yes, we are laughing.. is it with you or at you?

You've Got Mail

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