Skull and Crossbones Shorts

I remember the first moment that I realized that my kids could be stinky. It wasn't the poo or spit-up. Those stunk, but that's not what I'm talking about. I remember how when there were super little I loved their little bitty toes. I'd pretend to bite them and they'd laugh hysterically. And I kept this fun ritual up until one day. Yes, one day. The day when their beautiful, innocent, precious little feet started to stink.

<GASP!>

I was so shocked that something so offensive could affect something so very perfect. But, alas, the stink was to reoccur each and every day from then on out.

Sigh....


What made  me think of this is that this morning I went into my little guy's bedroom.


Me: "Oh, my gosh, what's that smell? Something happened in here?"

Little guy: "Huh? What? I don't smell anything." He had just woken up.

Me: "Did a cat maybe pee in here? It's really bad."

Little guy: "Oh, I know what it is. I brought my football practice clothes home to wash."


And now I miss those stinky little toes.


I made these shorts out of one of my kid's old, out-grown t-shirts. They are so incredibly comfortable! I wanted to put a pocket on them, but I just couldn't make one work that I liked. Maybe I'll hide one just big enough for a key on the inside. And now that I think about it, my kid's dirty football practice clothes need to be marked with a skull and crossbones. Danger, danger!

The front...the back is just solid black.

So comfy!!!

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Polly Want a Kiss?

I heard on the radio not long ago that there was an increase in salmonella poisoning.  And do you know who were the most likely to be coming down with it?  Chicken owners.  And do you know why there were coming down with it?  They had been kissing their chickens!

Now when I heard this I thought, "That is so freakin' weird!!! Icky, bleck, patooey!"

Of course you know that I own chickens, right?


Well, I have to confess something.  The last few times I've been holding my chickens and looking into their sweet little glassy eyes, I've felt the urge to kiss them on their little feathery cheeks.  What has come over me?!?!

So I've officially started a new trend.  Air kissing chickens.

Mwah!

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These Boots were Made for Stomping

...and I'm feeling so guilty about it.

The thing is, I was at another amazing rocketry event.  I always embrace my inner cowgirl at the events (boots, jeans, cowgirl hat).  It's really all about safety.


hat:  safety from the sun

boots and jeans:  safety from the plants and critters I come across as I fetch rockets

entire ensemble:  hopefully safety from ranchers with guns who catch me trespassing on their property on my quest to find the rocket.


So far, so good.

Well, today I had the urge, shall we say, to use the port-a-potty on the site.  I went in, began to do what I'd gone in there to do, and a scorpion skittered across the floor around my left boot.

I thought about what I should do...for about two seconds...and then I stomped on it.

OK, sure I could've opened the door and kicked it out, but like I said, I was in the middle of doing what I'd gone in there to do.

If I hadn't stomped it it could very well have run right up my leg...again, middle of doing, yikes!

And, gee, it could've scurried away and then stung the next person who came in.  Talk about guilt.  It'd be even worse than what I'm feeling right now.

Anyway, I sure hope he comes back as a butterfly in his next life.  I promise I'll do him no further harm.

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