Just for fun

Over the course of the last week a few questions have come up about various things. I can’t really remember all of them or even most of them, but it doesn’t really matter because I’ve already decided that this post is largely dedicated to answering six or two questions that I remember.

My brain is a little tired due to a mixture of being ready for summer to just get here already and attending a meeting last night to learn all about first grade. First grade? How did that happen?

(Cue the opening music to “Sunrise, Sunset”. Weeping. Sobbing.)

So before I fall asleep on my computer, here are a few numbered items to end the week.

1. A few of you (maybe one of you) asked about the pictures in my hallway. The hallway where P left the dust pile that was magically picked up by the dust fairy.

The pictures are various old photos from both sides of our family. I adore all of them, but my favorite is probably this one of my dad’s parents on their wedding day. It hangs on a wall by itself.

Here are the other walls.

I think the thermostat in the middle of that last wall really adds that extra something special.

2. P hasn’t actually started painting the attic with radiant barrier paint. I think he’s holding out for July to see if he can die of heat stroke in the attic. The hole in the house was because he decided we needed a new attic fan, which he installed today while Caroline and I ate popsicles and cheered him on.

Here he is framing out the hole that’s been standing wide open for two days. Can you say squirrel eating all your Christmas decorations? I knew you could.

I like to think that this is God shining down on P’s efforts to make our home more energy efficient and not just bad photography.

And here he is up in the attic actually installing the new fan. Right before I blinded him with the flash from the camera and he told me that living with me is like living with the papparazzi.

Whatever. Like the papparazzi makes peanut butter rice krispie treats for their subjects.

3. This doesn’t pertain to any sort of question, but rather sharing a precious memory from my childhood with my daughter.

I was so ashamed that my five-year-old had yet to experience Easy Cheese. She has led a deprived existence.

Oddly, cheese straight from a can doesn’t taste as good as I remembered.

Y’all have a great Memorial Day weekend. May the hot dogs be plentiful.

And maybe even the Easy Cheese if you’re still a fan.

I’m not sure what my deal is, but I’ve felt a little tired and irritable over the last few days. Normally I can take a couple of Evening Primrose Oil capsules to level out my mood and give my hormones the illusion of serenity, but I got mad when I couldn’t open the bottle and threw it out the backdoor.

Oh, it’s a joke. I wouldn’t throw them out the backdoor. I threw them in the trash.

Anyway, I’m just going to list a few quick things that have been on my mind. I wanted to tell you that they all had to do with television, but they don’t and I’m not going to start lying now. And in all reality, if I decide to start lying, let’s hope I can make it more interesting than that.

Also, you may be saying, “Didn’t you just do a list thing about a week ago?”

Yes. Yes, I did. Thanks for noticing.

1. In a turn of events that supports my theory that my hormones are a little out of whack, here’s what I ate for dinner last night: corn on the cob, macaroni and cheese, and a glass of Chardonnay.

Some might think it would be hard to find a meal comprised of all yellow foods and beverages, but I found it surprisingly easy.

2. As I watched “24” on Monday night it dawned on me why I could never be Jack Bauer. (Other than the fact that I’ll never wear size 26 jeans and extra-small t-shirts) If I’d been contaminated with some sort of bio-weapon and only had twenty-four hours to live, I’d curl up in the bed with the remote control, a big bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough, and call it a day.

I’d also be on the horn calling everyone I know in an attempt to garner some sympathy for my plight, but kudos to Jack for saving the world instead.

3. Sometimes when I see a guy wearing some bizarre outfit or if I see a really tricky pair of men’s jeans with a lot of stitching, I do this thing in my head where I imagine P wearing that outfit because I have the mental capacity of a twelve-year-old and it cracks me up.

This game of imagination has never been more successful at completely making me hysterical than when Adam Lambert wore those tight, striped pants on “American Idol” last night.

4. And speaking of “American Idol”, when they showed Slash last night I made the startling realization that I had his exact hairstyle in my 1987 school picture.

Check it out:

With the exception of the hat, it’s like we were separated at birth.

And on that unfortunate note, I wish you all a great day filled with only good hair.

Last Thursday Caroline’s school had a little mini-fiesta. I am not kidding when I say it was better than the last sixteen parties I’ve attended. Granted, the last sixteen parties I’ve attended have basically just involved large bounce houses where kids jump until they regret their massive intake of icing and Juicy Juice.

However, the mini-fiesta was still impressive because they had a Mariachi Band, chalupas, snow cones and two kegs of Miller Lite.

Oh wait, I just got confused with a party I attended my senior year of college. Obviously the Kindergarten fiesta wouldn’t have chalupas because the refried beans are way too messy.

Anyway, the big moment of the party was when King Antonio showed up with his entourage. Caroline even got to get her picture taken with the king.

Disclaimer: Elmo was not harmed in the making of that hat.

After the king talked to them, the kids spent the next hour expending roughly the same amount of energy it would take to provide a major city with electrical power for a year. Or six.

I was assigned to work the Cascarone-making booth. For those of y’all who may be unfamiliar, a cascarone is a hollowed-out egg filled with confetti for the purpose of being smashed on someone’s head.

Yeah, that’s a good idea. Put those suckers in the hands of some five and six-year-olds and see what happens.

It’s been five days and I’m still finding bits of confetti in my hair.

But it’s a small price to pay for all the pandemonium and free chalupas.

I think.

Lastly, you should go read this post that Melissa wrote from India. She does an incredible job of describing what being a Compassion sponsor is all about.

I realize it’s only April and way too early to start complaining about the heat, but it was seriously 96 degrees yesterday. NINETY-SIX DEGREES.

It was so hot that when I got in my car yesterday afternoon wearing shorts, I felt the back of my legs begin to sizzle on the leather seats. All of a sudden I was filled with empathy for Ariel and her hot-glued bottom.

In other news, this is our dog Bruiser.

About two weeks ago I had to take him to the vet. Apparently he has very sensitive skin and also a possible flea allergy, which isn’t really convenient when you’re a dog.

We tried to help him out by giving him some Benadryl and slathering him in hydrocortisone, but it didn’t seem to help. He appeared to need something stronger, like perhaps Valium or a shot of tequila; both of which are clinically proven to either help with flea allergies or just make sure that you don’t really care that your back is itchy.

They sent him home with a bottle of shampoo that’s supposed to help with all his skin issues. So while I’m using Pantene in an effort to save money, my dog that came from humble trailer park beginnings is using shampoo that costs more than the Biolage I gave up for the sake of thriftiness.

I believe that’s called irony.

Then, yesterday, I had to go to HEB to pick up a few things I’d forgotten earlier in the week and when I went to check out the cashier asked me if I’d like a free light bulb in celebration of Earth Day. Well, I’m no fool. Who would turn down a free light bulb?

Plus, I used the money I theoretically saved on buying a lightbulb to treat myself to a new bottle of Biolage.

Math has never really been my strong suit.

But in my defense, I can’t have a dog with more shine and volume than me. That would just be wrong.

My friend A.J. is a freelance photographer and spends a lot of time traveling to various photo shoots. She also happens to be twenty-six years old and single, which is why I was so excited when I got an email from her the other day that said:

“I’m in Alabama and I think I’ve met the perfect guy. He loves to travel, loves Jesus, and obviously loves dogs. He’s everything I’ve been looking for. I’m attaching a photo.”

Well, I was just beside myself with joy.

And then I opened the attachment.

I immediately called her and told her that if he really loved his dog he wouldn’t let it ride in such a precarious position. He might not be such a catch.

Not to mention, those mules probably require a lot of upkeep.