I'm thankful for my Super Funny Husband!

I'm so thankful for my funny family!  They generously give and give and give, and I gratefully receive (and quickly write it down so I don't forget).  My wonderful husband gifted me with this, just this very morning.


Dave:  "Hey, Kal.  Did you know that 'crotch' and 'crouch' are spelled the same way?"

Me:  "They're not."

Dave:  "U!  There's a 'U' in crouch...Without you (U) there is no difference between 'crotch' and 'crouch'!"

Me:  "Um...."

Dave:  "I'm going to post on facebook about this!"

Me:  "Oh, I was already going to blog about it."

Dave:  "Well, I get credit for it!"

Me:  "Oh, don't worry, I'll give you credit."


...at what point should I mention to him that there's a "T" in "crotch" and there's not one in "crouch"?

Yeah, never.

Thanks, Dave!  I love you!!

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Harry Houdini is in Da House

After a fitful night's sleep full of worrying about my post surgery cat and all his pain and drug induced wiggling, I reluctantly got out of bed.  And what did I see?  I saw a very smug orange tabby sans his cone of shame.  I looked around and the cone was nowhere to be seen.  I looked high and low, well, mostly low.  I grabbed the flashlight and looked under all the beds and chairs.  I looked in every room, in every nook and cranny.  It was gone.

And after I'd finished my search, I picked up said tabby, scared to see what damage he'd done to his incision and drain tubes (yes, two of them).  And know what I saw?  I saw the most tidy surgical site ever.  Nothing had been disturbed, and it was spotless!  Dude's a little clean freak!  "Whew!!!"

I continued my quest for the cone, admonishing my dogs as they were my prime suspects for eating the cone in its entirety and leaving no evidence, and finally looked in our closet.  Now, as we live in an old house, the structure has settled here and there, so we have no closet doors any more.  Just curtains hanging in their place.  And, tucked ever so carefully behind our closet curtain was the cone.

Man, my escape artist cat was totally channeling Harry Houdini!

...now, back in the cone, little guy.

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When Mom Dads

You know what happens when I make a good joke around my family?  Well, sometimes they actually laugh.

You know what happens when I make a bad joke?  Well, lately the reaction is kind of awesome.

"Mom, stop dadding!!"

Yup, a true sign of a joke fail...being accused of making a joke as terrible as one of Dave's.  <snicker>

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Leap of Faith

Our tough guy cat, Pug, had to have surgery today.  Somehow he ended up with a rather large cut on his inner back leg.  Turns out it was deep...all the way to the bone, and some muscle tissue was cut as well.  We figure he got snagged on the top of a chain link fence or something else sharp and pokey.  He came through surgery just fine, and, according to the vet, he was quite a feisty patient.  That's our Pug!

Anyway, his little incident reminded me of one of my own that was quite similar.  I was about six, I think.  It was my birthday...or perhaps a bluebird meeting...at my house.  I was in the back yard with oodles of other kids, and we were playing on my new swing/monkey bars/jungle gym thingie.  As a kid I LOVED jumping off of high objects.  The roof was my favorite.  I even tried doing it while holding an umbrella, many more times than my parents would ever guess.  Anyway, this day I decided to be super cool and jump off the top of the monkey bars.  I remember standing up, looking below me, and taking that familiar leap...until something went wrong, terribly wrong.  Instead of finding myself on my feet and running on to the next silly thing, I found myself looking at the world, and it was upside-down!  Or, rather, I was!  You see, the hem of my dress had caught on the bolt atop the monkey bars, and there I was, dangling, my underwear exposed for all the world to see!  Well, at least for about ten or so kids to see.  Oh, the humiliation.

Here's hoping that none of Pug's friends were around to watch his failed leap.  That would have made it so much worse, I'm sure.

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The Eighth Wonder of the World

In the last two days Dave has not only made the trek to IKEA and come home with a boat load of huge boxes..."some assembly required", uh-huh...but he has also put together two pieces of furniture.  BIG pieces.  So, I'm declaring that my husband is, officially, the Eighth Wonder of the World.

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Words of Wisdom

I'm short on time tonight...feeling the pressure of having to drive through formula one traffic to get to my kid's karate class.  Usually it's a twelve minute trip.  Tonight?  I'm betting at least an hour.  Ah, well....

So, in lieu of my own personal ramblings, I thought I'd share my little guy's epiphany with you.

"Mom, I just realized that the toilet is the best place to think of stuff!!"

Take that bit of wisdom and stick it in your pocket.

...and then go wash your hands.

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Think Fast!

So, my little guy is often sometimes rarely annoying.  Tonight I did something about it.


Little guy:  "Hey, mom, think fast!"  And he kicked a soccer ball at me...in the house.

Me:  "No, I don't want to play."

Little guy:  "Hey, mom, think fast!"  Yup, ball kicked again and it glanced off my shoe.

Me:  "No."

Little guy:  "Hey, mom, think medium!"  Ball kicked at me at a somewhat slower speed and it hit me on the leg.

Me:  "I said, 'no'."  I picked up the dogs' water dish and began filling it.

Little guy:  "Hey, mom, think slow."  Ball kicked at me at a very slow lob style and hit me in the middle of the back.

Me:  Well, I didn't say anything, I just turned around and threw a big dog bowl worth of water at him...a direct hit!

Little guy:  "Mom!"


I looked over at Dave, who was smiling really big and giving me the thumbs-up sign.  My soaking wet little guy ran by me to the bathroom.


Me:  "I guess I should've said, 'Think fast!'"

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