Seth Seth Seth is being mentioned in my blog

My husband's family is still in town, and I have stolen a little quiet moment away from the flurry of cooking, arguing (all in good fun of course), playing and vacuuming.....[Ok, I'm back. I took a break from my break to go make all the kids some lunch.]

I've been a blog slacker lately (and now I'm back from another break to make second helpings of lunch). I hope you find it in your hearts to forgive me send help.

And, I totally didn't lose a bet or anything - damn you, Ricky Gervais, why couldn't you have been in 'Death at a Funeral'? - but my brother in law, Seth, is the awesomest in the world. He can sleep on a couch like nobodies business, and he comes in very handy when there are leftovers which need eating. He can also fix all our electronic stuff which we have no idea how to do, and makes the yummiest hamburgers ever. Even though he clips his toenails in my living room, I still love ya, Sether.

Ricky Gervais, however, has disappointed me. I did NOT lose a bet.

Sometimes you gotta learn the hard way

Today Connor learned an important lesson: never stomp on an anthill while wearing Crocs.



The picture's not the greatest, but he was asleep when I took it. Not only do I not supervise my children closely enough, but when they are attacked by wildlife, I photograph it (and blog it) . I'm still waiting for my Mother of the Year award.

Housekeeping 101

With my in-laws coming into town for the weekend, I've been a little busy trying to get things squared away so the house will be ready for them.

Exhibit A:

(please don't look too closely, there could be thongs peeping out of the pile. They like to hide in dark places, so I've heard)

I've been slacking in the laundry department lately. Hee hee. However, it's amazing what you can accomplish if you've planned wisely. By this, I mean DVRing 'The Biggest Loser', and having a pint of ice cream all ready to go. Yeah, I ate ice cream while I watched 'The Biggest Loser', but I burned it all off, see?

Two days later, the baskets are still there. I'm pacing myself.

Dear Ella

Oh Ella,
Even though I cooked a beautiful dinner of grilled chicken with mango chutney, a vegetable medley of grilled asparagus, portabello mushrooms, and red bell pepper, and sweet potato baked french fries to be eaten in the lovely 70 degree fall weather on our back porch, for some reason, you had a bug up your ass and screamed for two hours straight. This led me to drink 3 glasses of wine and find it very difficult to restrain myself from shot-putting you off the deck.



Usually, you are a pretty happy baby. You are typically content to bounce face down across my knees while we eat dinner or to sit in your bouncy seat and admire the way we chew our food with actual teeth. Don't be too envious, teeth are overrated. All the flossing and whitening is very time consuming. You don't need teeth to eat ice cream. Plus, you bite pretty damn hard with only gums.


Please be more considerate in the future. After all, you are 3 1/2 months old now. And now that I think about it, what the heck are you so pissy about anyway? Someday, when I am old and decrepit, I will poop in diapers, subsist on a liquid diet, be wheeled around, and I fully expect it to be awesome. So please, enjoy the ride while it lasts and let us eat our dinners in peace. You won't see diapers and strollers again for another 80 or so years.

Love,
Mommy

PS. I wrote this last night and didn't post it because I wasn't sure exactly how those 3 glasses of wine affected my writing. Now that I reread it, I feel kinda bad about wanting to shot-put you off the deck, especially since you are particularly smiley this morning. So, to make up for it, here is some video of you being all cute.

After watching this video, you may mistakenly conclude that I have a lung disorder which causes me to audibly inhale deeply after finishing a sentence. Uhh, yeah, that's it. I have a lung disorder.

Helmey Rocks

Notice anything? Hmmm....? I have a new blog header thanks to Helmey, aka 'El Capitan'. He has saved us all from an unbalanced existence (and, by "us all" I mean me). Obviously his Kung Fu is greater than mine because while all I could do is bitch that my blog header was off center, he whipped up a new one lickety split (did I just say 'lickety split'? No more wine for me). Hooray for Helmey!!

I'm quite touched that he took the time out of his busy day to help me out like that. I really appreciate it.

PS: Helmey, I'll pretend the little hearts were my idea. I won't tell anyone you came up with that all by yourself, I promise.

PSS: Apparently there are two types of people in the world: those of you noticed my crappy old blog header by yourself and were disturbed by it, and those that only noticed it after I pointed it out and didn't give a crap. Which category are you?

The Ellaphant in the Room

I consider it a test of patience; an exercise in mental stamina. To me, it demonstrates both my inadequacies as a blogger and my laziness in not fixing those inadequacies. I do a little mediation every time I see it, a little inward chanting: "It doesn't matter, just let it go."

By now, I've come to view it as a symbol of my work ethic. It's juuust a little bit..off, but I'm too apathetic to do anything about it.

You know what I'm talking about. You've seen it too.

The picture of Ella I used as a blog header is off center. It's too far to the right. I don't know how it happened or how to fix it, but by now it's part of the charm. I apologize to anyone with OCD who has clicked onto my blog, only to have to spend the rest of the day moving things a little to the left to compensate.

Pretty soon, I will contort this into a tribute to my ability to shake off the small things, an ability I've always possessed. Like in college when I was able to shake off countless tests that I forgot to study for. It was like Russian Roulette when I walked into a class, is there a test today? We'll soon find out! Somehow, my brain is able to let these things go and attribute it to being "laid back". That's code for lazy-ass bum.

So, please consider my off kilter blog header as a thin slice of Laid Backness wrapped around a nice big helping of Lazy-Ass Bum.

Moob of the year

Lennie is desperate to start exercising again after his surgery. He is worried that his once statuesque chest is slowing melting into moobs. (Man-boobs, get it? That's not Lennie by the way *cough*, Governator *cough*. I would never ever allow the banana hammock bathing suit) He is also trying to spend extra time with the kids after being away for a month for camp. He decided to combine these two goals into one glorious plan: walk with the kids to the Citgo station to pick up the Sunday paper.

This plan seemed oookaayyish to me at first. The Citgo is only about 3/4 mile away. It's on a pretty busy road and cars (myself included) usually take the 45mph sign to mean 55mph, but there's plenty of grass on the side to walk safely. The kids should be able to walk that far, refuel with some Citgo-mart goodies, and then whine whine whine all the way home. Plus, they'd be with their Dad, who would never ever put them in danger. I was about to give my unrequested consent on this plan when Lennie adds this, "You can ride your bikes."

Right at that exact moment, my morning coffee kicked in and I had to speed walk to the bathroom to powder my nose (because ladies don't poop). But, that didn't prevent me from shouting my opinions, about my children peddling their little training wheels down a busy street, over my shoulder on my way out of the room. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I know it included, "ARE YOU CRAZY?"

I heard some hushed talking, and when I came back, Lennie said, "Duh, I'm only going to let them ride their bikes until we get out of the subdivision. We'll leave the bikes there and pick them back up on the way back."

For my own sanity and peace of mind, I'm just going to pretend agree that this was his plan all along.

Oh, and as a little addendum to this post. I let Lennie preview it before I posted it, and he had this to say, "Take Citgo out, we're not supporting Hugo Chavez." And he wants my reader to know that all he bought was a newspaper, not gasoline.

Are you sure you got the right blog, Karen?

My fabulous friend, Karen, must have had either a moment of pity or a stroke because she has awarded me this:

And, I humbly accept (gimme gimme). It means a lot coming from her because she has an awesomely funny blog and is an all around cool person. Thank you, Karen and award it back to you.

In accordance with the rules, I hereby award these 7 other amazing blogs, which I truly enjoy reading, with la 'Brilliante Weblog'. Congratulations, ladies.

1. Kimchi Con Queso: because my oldest friend in the world has taken off on a romantic adventure in Mexico and is giving the world a glimpse into her beautiful and witty life.

2. Even the Nice Ones: because she is nice, with a little spice. And, because she graces us with "Titillating Tuesdays". Exxxcellent, Smithers.

3. Cowgirls Like Me: She's a mom and a teacher, which makes for the most hilarious stories ever.

Plus, she's got a razor wit.

4. Cheese and Whine: because she is so so sweet and has an adorable family. Mix that in with a sense of humor and voila!

5. Life is Too Short Not to Share: ahhh, a fellow potty mouthed mommy blogger. I can relate so well. And also, I've been known to snort while reading her posts.

6. Half as Good as You: She has the best blog header ever. Ever. She's awesome, and, she is the tomboy to my girly girl. I need some balance.

7. Searching for My Inner Skinny: because she puts it all out there! She's so funny and honest and I can totally relate.

And now for the rules:

1. The winner can (and should, really) put the logo on his/her blog
2. The winner must link to the person from whom they received their award.
3. The winner must nominate at least 7 other blogs for an award.
4. The winner must place links to those blogs on their own blog.
5. The winner must leave a message on the blogs of the people they’ve nominated.

I'm demented, and you can be too.

Maybe it was all the Halloween costume shopping the other day that got me in the mood for spookiness, but I LOVE this time of year. All the pumpkin scented candles, lattes, and muffins, the first chilly mornings, fires in the fireplace, hayrides and apples. I get the warm fuzzies just thinking about it (It's still 80 degrees here in North Carolina, but I like to get a head start on things.) I also love those 13 days of horror movies that show up on TV every year leading up to Halloween. For some reason though, the older I get the more easily disturbed I am by some of these gorefests. There are some movies which I wish I'd never seen and really want to delete from my memory forever.

#1. 'The Mist' by Stephen King. It's relatively new, so I won't be a spoiler (and also I can't even type what happened because it's that bad), but that very last scene where the guy is screaming will haunt me for the rest of my life. It's so fucked up and I wish I could locate the part of my brain where the memory of this scene is stored and have it sliced out. Which brings me to...

#2. 'Hannibal', you know, Silence of the Lambs II. The part where Hannibal Lecter saws off the top of the dudes skull like a melon, scoops out a little piece of brain, sautes it up with some garlic and shallots, and then feeds the dude his own brain. I have a little vomit in the back of my throat just thinking about it.

#3. 'The Ring'. Holy crap, their faces are disgusting and when the little girl crawled out of the TV, I accidentally gulped Diet Coke down my wind pipe.

#4. 'The Exorcist'. Not the old version, but the redo of the old version that came out a few years ago. Apparently there was a bunch of fucked up shit that didn't make it into the first version, so they reedited it all back in and made some more money off of jerks like me. While spinning heads and demonic possession don't seem to faze me, send that little girl walking down the stairs backwards on her hands like a crab, and I'm out.

#5 'Halloween', yes it's a cliche, but it freaks me out every time because it really could happen. Ok, not the part where Michael Myers gets shot 6 times, falls out the window, and is still alive. But the rest of it could be real. Whenever Lennie wakes up in the morning with me shellacked onto his arm and the bedroom door has been locked, you can bet I stayed up late to watch 'Halloween'.

There was another Stephen King one from my childhood, 'IT'. My lovely friend, Susana, who grew up two houses down from me used to stand on her front porch at night when I had to walk home, turn off the only light, and squeak, "Keep away from the sewers or Pennywise will get you." I ran home right up the middle of the road in the pitch blackness rather than risk being dragged into the sewers by a fucked-up clown.

And we can't forget the time Seth and I went to see 'The Blair Witch Project' late one night, and then I had to drop Seth off at his job. At a summer camp. In the woods. At night. And, he had to walk a mile by himself on an unlit road to get back to his bunk. Sorry 'bout that one, Seth.

I love to hear what my reader has to say about the scariest movies ever.

14 years...

Approximately 19 years ago, I was in 7th grade science class with my permed hair, Scotty dog sweater and plaid MC Hammer pants, and was paired up with a tall kid with hair so gelled into spikes, you could have impaled grapes on his head. Spikes so awesome, that if he did a headstand, his skull would be 2 inches off the ground. He kind of looked like 'The Karate Kid', was popular, and I had a major crush on him. This kid was kind of an ass though. He was one of those: "Pssst, what's the answer to number 4?" types. He wanted to light the Bunson Burner and do all the cool shit while I did the calculations. So pathetic was my crush, however, that I happily shared all my homework and answers with him. I also totally fell for it when I gave him a giant Hershey's kiss before Christmas break, and he told me my present was in the mail and would be here soon.

Flash forward 19 years to present day and I'm staring at the 31 year old version of that tall kid laying on our laundry-covered couch watching 'Return of the Jedi.' The kid has the same total amount of hair (just distributed differently), is still kind of an ass, and I still have a major pathetic crush on him. So why is the title of this post 14 years, you ask? Well because Sept 17th, 1994 just happens to be the day I first jumped his bones. I'm classy like that.

We started hanging out during our Junior year of High School. It wasn't really by choice; we had every class together. And then that day in Trig, when I leaned over to put my books into my backpack, and unknowingly gave The Karate Kid a full on nipple shot down my shirt, his crush on me was sealed forever. We were inseparable. Totally platonic, but inseparable nonetheless. It wasn't until nearly a year later, as we started our senior year in high school, that I figured I'd better take matters into my own hands or face another year of sweaty hand holding and nervous hugs goodbye. So, I pounced. I later found out that he had been planning on waiting until Valentine's Day (that's 5 months later, yo) to make his big move. I also made the mistake of painstakingly inscribing every detail into my diary for my mother to find and read. [Apparently, I'm still making that mistake, but we're married now so nana poo poo, Mom. At least this time, I don't have to avoid eye contact with you while you hold up the minty flavored condom you found in my room in college and asked, "What's this?"]

Our wedding anniversary is in May, but today is a commemoration of a different sort. A remembrance of first kisses, butterflies in stomachs, walks in the rain, hand holding, drives in your shitty Honda Prelude, love letters, hours upon hours of talking on the phone, football and soccer, falling crazy in love at age 17 and never regaining sanity.

7 year of marriage and 3 kids later, I'd still flash you my nipple and do it all over again.

Dear Sayde,

Oh, my sweet Kindergartener, you've reached several milestones this week. Forgetting that you were holding pre-chewed gum in your hand when you started to twirl your hair was a biggy. Thank goodness your Grammy was here to ice that mess down and spend half an hour rescuing one hair at a time from the wad of watermelony madness. I would have cut the whole thing off and then regretted it instantly. After Grammy's help, I only had to cut off one tiny curl, and it blends right in with the layered haircut we gave you after Sweeney Todd Connor took the scissors to you in February. It reminded me of that time (last year) when a brush became inexplicably and irreversibly entangled in the back of my hair. How does this happen to a grown woman? We do not know, but thank goodness my mom was there to rescue me, hair by hair; because after 30 seconds of reaching back to disentangle myself, the blood was drained from my arms, I was spouting various colorful phrases, and was ready to cut my own hair off and regret it instantly.

You also received your first marriage proposal. Apparently, a boy in your Kindergarten class liked your bracelet so much that it inspired him to ask for your hand. Which reminds me, we're sending you to live at a convent next week. I hope you like it there.

You've also agreed for the first time since you learned how to talk, not to be a Princess for Halloween. Wow, this is a big one. You decided instead to go with the leopard printed kitty (after some major talking up about how awesome that leopard kitty is from Mommy). This is a major step for you. While the leopard leotard could be viewed as a bit grown up for a 5 year old, I would be willing to let you knock on my neighbors' doors dressed as Dita Von Teese as long as it's not another Disney princess. So, while you sprint across front lawns dressed as leopard kitty with your little brother, Optimus Prime, I will be gloating in my victory (until it dawns on me that you probably outgrew Disney Princesses all on your own, but set it up so that I thought it was my idea to let you be leopard kitty, when really you had your heart set on leopard kitty all along.) Hmmm, the force is strong with this one. That little boy in your class has no idea what he is getting into.





I love you, leopard kitty.
Love,
Mommy

Thumbs Down to Spiders

The best feeling in the world? After a long day of cleaning and laundry, slipping into to nice fresh sheets in the evening and inhaling the CLEAN. Ahhhhh.
The worst feeling in the world? Having the best feeling in the world shot to hell by a large, hairy spider plummeting from the ceiling directly onto your forehead.

Dear Spiders living in my house,

It's ON, bitches. The uneasy peace agreement between us has been broken by one of your trigger-happy comrades. No longer will I be tolerant of you as long as you stay in the corner on your web, and don't move or make baby spiders. I can no longer turn a blind eye to the fact that you are disgusting, creepy, and deliberately launching yourselves at my head. You may have the edge in stealth, but have you forgotten that I am approximately 5 billion times bigger than you?

There was a time when I felt bad about smooshing you. Like that time I was cleaning the shower with bleach and one of you walked into the bleach and then started writhing around and dragging your eight disintegrating legs further and further into the bleach? Well, that was a mercy smooshing and I still felt bad about it. Now, I will aim the bleach at you, you motherfuckers. And no more mercy smooshes.

If I go to Hell for this, it will have been worth it.

Rot in Peace,
Katie

UPDATED: The second worst feeling in the world? Thinking you smell pee somewhere in your bedroom, and then, in the middle of the night you flip your pillow over and discover why. I can only hope it was the dog, because if it was Lennie, we need to have a serious talk. Jake, you are lucky you are able to outrun me cute.

Where's my President?

I woke up this morning feeling like I've been mashed into the ground, had my stomach turned inside out, and my head squeezed. Don't worry, I'm not hungover. Nor, am I pregnant, which would be much much worse. I'm just plain sick. Not a good recipe for taking care of 3 kids, but I managed to peel myself off the couch (it's only 1:30 in the afternoon) to blog this little cuteness from Connor:

"Mommy, is The Rock Obama going to give us a present?"

"No baby, he's not giving us a present. He's running to be pres-i-dent of the United States."

"Oh. Is The Rock Obama going to give us a pres-i-dent?"

Whew

Lennie is just getting out of his shoulder surgery now (no, I didn't abandon him to blog. He's in NY with his parents). Everything went well. And, while the surgeon was at it, he noticed and repaired a tear in his bicep as well. A little bonus, kind of like a free toaster when you open a bank account.

I'm told the first thing he requested once he got to the recovery room was a turkey sandwich. That's cool. I got ice chips after my C-Section, but I'm not bitter about it.
Someone get that man a Snickers bar; he seems to have a post-op craving for them.

The Quote of the Day

Comes from Connor after I told him he'd better put that quarter in his piggy bank before it gets lost: "Yeah, because if you lose your monies, you will have to buy more monies."

I wonder exactly how that would work, Connor? And what could we use around here to buy more monies? Uncapped dried out markers? Random Polly Pocket pieces? If anyone out there is willing to sell us their monies for these little gems, we'll be riding high style baby.

And as a side note, wouldn't it be great to live in a world where a Chuck E Cheese token is more exciting than actual money? If you happen to visit this fabled utopia, tell Connor I said hi.

Karma Schmarma

As we watched the Monday night football game last night, a few things were on my mind. There was a clip of Tom Brady's season-ending knee injury. Although I'm not usually too spiteful, I turned to Len and said, "Karma. You know?"

He was all "Whataya mean, karma?"

I said, "He dumped his pregnant girlfriend for the Superho Supermodel, and now he's lost the Superbowl and has a knee injury."

"If that held true, half the players in the NFL would have knee injuries"

"Half of them do...so...what did you do to deserve your shoulder injury?"

"It's not karma. It was your fucking voodoo doll."
Touche.

The other thing on my mind was the diminishing size of my husband. Lennie has been done with football for 10 days. Ten days. 10 days, and the rat bastard has already lost 18 pounds. 18 pounds in 10 days! Since I've been going to the gym for the last 7 weeks, I've gained a pound. What the hell is with that?

Ok, so yeah, he sat there stoically at Champs on Sunday as I ordered his favorite dessert (chocolate chip cookie a la mode, thank you very much). I didn't anticipate that the cookie would be approximately the size of a pizza. Seriously, it was like one of those giant mall cookies smothered in ice cream. Thank God the waitress brought two spoons, because otherwise that would have just been embarrassing. It's like they're saving face for you by bringing the extra spoon. "Here's an extra spoon for you because nobody could possibly eat that entire dessert by themselves *wink wink*"

I even scooped him a piece with his very own spoon and waved it in front of him. The man was a rock. Damn it.

So, maybe that's the secret to losing weight: willpower. If that's so, then I'm shit outta luck.

Oh, wait, isn't this a "Mommy blog?" Babies Babies Babies.

My Apologies

Dear Person on the Treadmill behind me:

My sincerest apologies. I understand that has been difficult for you these past 30 minutes. It was not my intention to scar your retinas with my blinding white legs. Nor was it my intention to flash you with my Irish ass.

It's really not my fault I though. You see, I don't have a cute little curve at the bottom of my butt like other women. Instead, I have one long flat thigh that connects directly from my knee to my lower back. Hence, the terminal wedgie you witnessed when my shorts were jammed up my asshole. Please find it in your heart to forgive me.

It must have been pretty distracting listening to me obsessively clearing my throat every 20 seconds. Especially when the gurgling phlegm caught me off guard and I let out a choking and sputtering Screaming Cough.

Furthermore, I'd like to apologize for any fear I caused you when I cranked up the speed just one notch higher than the 6ft tall, 20 yr old dude running next to me. I realize I almost became a projectile on several occasions, and will try to control my competitiveness in the future.

Finally, I'm sorry about the smell. You see, I refuse to buy more workout clothes in this size. I'm saving up for a whole new wardrobe once I lose the baby weight. So, often I wear the same clothes to the gym multiple days in a row. I appreciate your understanding in this matter.

Sincerely,
Katie

PS I do hope however, that you enjoyed my taste in music. I like to provide a little ambiance for everyone by turning my Ipod as loud as possible and not fully inserting my earbuds.

What is the world coming to?

I understand the need for caution when it comes to food allergies. My son, Connor, is allergic to dairy, peanuts, and eggs. We scour the labels of everything that comes into our home, carry an EpiPen and Benadryl wherever we go, and have driven hapless waiters to insanity with our questions.

But please, somebody tell me why, oh why, when a person purchases a bag of Peanuts at a baseball game and flips it over to read the nutritional label, why is there a sentence that reads: This product may contain peanuts.

Really, America? We need a warning on our peanuts that there may be peanuts in our peanuts?
Good Lord Almighty.

Recognize the Skills

Ok, so I was totally bumming yesterday. First, I took my sweet baby to Kindergarten. Yup, we wussed out on that whole bus thing and drove her ourselves, and then walked her to her class, and then hung out in her class until the teacher kicked us all out, and then continued to walk around the school aimlessly until we realized we were probably creeping out all the other kids, and then circled the parking lot hoping to catch a glimpse of her - ok, so that last one was a lie.

Then, we went back to Home Depot again so I could visit my beloved $179 house plant one more time. I tried to make Lennie see reason; it's more like an indoor tree, it's tropical, it provides fresh oxygen for our home, it's good for the environment, it is necessary for my continued happiness, but to no avail.

I had a crappy workout because I was so tired. My Starbucks was bitter. I have 5 thousand mosquito bites and can't recall when I was outside for more than 20 seconds. Our house has ants. Ella is biting me.

And, then I see this. Read this awesome post from Jenny the Blogess. She is my blogger hero (I'm officially a nerd now that I have blog heroes). She gets a couple hundred comments on every one of her posts. Scroll down to the end and you'll see the comment of the day. IT'S MINE!! Yay! Jenny, you just made my crappy day a whole lot better. Thank you.

And the Redskins lost, MUA HA HA HA!

There is no title for this post

I took Sayde to her new school yesterday to register her for Kindergarten. "Shouldn't she already be in Kindergarten?" you may be asking yourself. Yes, she should, but you'll have to take that up with Lennie's shoulder.

His surgery is scheduled for next week so you'd better act quick because this shoulder is attatched to a very grouchy and noncompliant PITA (that would be 'Pain In The Ass' for all of you outside the medical field - now you know). My husband is every nurses' worst nightmare and it only goes downhill from there when he's not allowed to eat. When he had his thumb surgery in Colorado a few years back, it was scheduled for 7am, but ended up being delayed over and over until he finally went under the knife at 1am. I've never seen a hospital staff so happy to see a patient leave. And the bastard ate my snickers bar on the trip home.

But I digress. Now that we are safe and sound back at home from Cleveland, Sayde is ready to start school. I'll let you know when I have my nervous breakdown. I'm guessing it will be sometime tommorow morning when she's waving goodbye from the window of a big yellow bus.

Fried for PREZ

I encouraged Lennie to read my post from yesterday because it was my apology to him for being a spoiled baby during the "episode". He takes it all in, looks at me and says this:
Lennie"Well, you've lost me West Virginia."
Me "Huh?"
Lennie "If I ever run for political office, they will do a background check on my wife and see that you've insulted the entire state of West Virginia."
Me "Are you serious?"
Lennie "Yes."
Me "Well, that would mean you're running for President? And besides, you're a democrat. Nobody in West Virginia would vote for you anyway."
Lennie "West Virginia is a swing state" he smirked.
Me "You're insane"


You know what, Lennie? You're right. It's not fair of me to insult an entire state. West Virginians don't need teeth to be taken seriously, they have guns for that.

Aren't you glad you married me?

So on this roadtrip, which went through West Virginia by the way and all I have to say about that is, "OH MY GOOD LORD will you people please lobby your local government for more coffee shops?? It's cruel cruel world when there are only 2 Starbucks in the entire state. And PS, Dentists. I'll leave it at that.

Anyway, while we were stopped at a gas station in the middle of Podunk, USA, Lennie took the kids inside to pee and I decided to feed lil miss hungry fuss fuss in the front seat. Like a good Earthing, I decided not to let the car idle because it wastes gas, so instead I just turned the ignition on halfway - just enough for the fan and radio to work. I like to be civilized, you know.

So after a while when the kids came back from their marathon pooping session, and after Jake had been walked, and the truck and minivans were all gassed up, and the baby had been fed, and everyone was loaded back into their carseats, I tried to start the car. And....nada. I turned the key again....even less than nada. I think maybe my left eye started to twitch from the increase in bloodpressure, but instead of screaming like a lunatic in the middle of this peaceful gas station, I just tossed the keys to Len and said, "The car won't start." (ie, Somehow this is all your fault, and it's your fucking problem now so you deal with it.)

So while he turns the keys again and again, I unload the kids out of the car to sit in the shade - all the while still not screaming like a lunatic (you're welcome, sweetie). "I think we have jumper cables," I offered up, because you know, I'm helpful like that.

Lennie finally gave up on compulsively wishing that 'this time the ignition will work, no this time, no this time' and goes and finds a stranger to rescue us. This helpful and kind stranger provided the jumper cables, and showed Lennie how to jump a car, made sure everything worked and then wished us a good day. Thank you, helpful and kind stranger, I waved from my spot in the shade. Meanwhile, I didn't scream once. You're welcome, Lennie.