Happy Halloween and Happy Birthday to my Little Guy!!!

Sixteen years ago today we welcomed our little guy to this world of ours.  He was born at home in our bed and and that evening when Trick-or-Treaters rang the doorbell, my very proud husband introduced all the little ghosts, goblins, and witches to our very own little spook.  He gave them candy, too, of course...because, really, those kids weren't all that interested in a baby.  But soon all the neighbors showed up to meet the newest resident...and then more neighbors...and then more.  I'm pretty sure he set a world record that day for meeting the most people in the first twelve hours of life.

And maybe it's how he would've turned out regardless of the day he was born, but my little guy is obsessed with tricking me.  Here's what's happened to me in just the last twenty-four hours.


• A sticky slug toy was shot at me and it went "splat" on my neck and stuck there.  Bleck!

• The same slug was left for me to "accidentally" step on when I was barefoot.

• I've turned my head only to have my cheek poked by a waiting pointer.

• As we went through my brother's awesomely scary haunted house I was touched or had things thrust at me to "enhance" my experience.

• Ice has been put down my back.

• A skeletal hand has been placed on my shoulder repeatedly.

• A walking hand has graced the top of my head.


And I freak out.  Every.  Time.  It's my little gift to my little guy who has given me so much happiness, joy, and bliss over the years.


Happy Birthday, Little Guy...We love you!!!

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Hunky Text Received

So I'm at the gym with Dave when I get a text from my kid.  Well, actually there was no text, it was just a photo...so what do you call that?

Anyway, I open the "text" and there was a photo of a hunky guy.  From just above his nose to just below his pockets.  Shirt off.  Nice pecs.  Nice biceps.  But, hey, why do I need to have this picture when I have my hunky husband right there with me to check out, right?  Right?


Me:  "Why?"

Little guy:  "I did a good job at least."

Me:  "But I had your super sexy dad to look at.  :-)"


So our workout continued, we left and went home, and then everything was completely explained.  So why did my kid send me a photo of a hunky dude?  Turns out it was a Photoshop project.  You see, said hunky dude was a bit of a Frankenstein's monster.  Nicolas Cage's head, Ryan Gosling's bod, Nicolas' mouth where a belly button should have been.

Yup, my husband is way sexier than that.

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So what is it about dogs and postal carriers?

So what is it about dogs and postal carriers?  They come at pretty much the same time six days a week for years on end.  They never make a move to invade the house or cause harm in any way (aside from delivering bills, of course).  So why do dogs think they're so evil?

Our old dog, Scout, barks relentlessly at our mailman each and every day, and no amount of persuasion or consequence can convince her otherwise.  To Scout, the mailman is the devil incarnate.

Well, today I went out to retrieve our mail after Scout's usual barking fit, and there were two dog biscuits placed atop our mailbox.


Me:  "These are a gift from our very nice and very kind mailman, Scout."

Scout:  gobble, gobble, whatever...


Somehow I don't think Scout will change her behavior at all, but I'm quite sure our mailman will be the recipient of some lovely homemade cookies!

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