A little Tuesday list…
On April 17, 2012
- I just calculated the number of quesadillas I have made in my lifetime and I arrived – quite conservatively – at 1,560.
- There is a grosgrain ribbon in my house that will not go away. Everywhere I look, there it is. It’s red and white striped and would look lovely as a gift wrap accent piece, but instead its sole purpose seems to be to drive me batty. I keep picking it up off the floor and putting it on the counter (the internationally recognized purgatory for Stuff You Plan To Put Away Later), and the next thing I know I find it at the other end of the house tied to a doorknob or serving as a leash for a very fashionable (if permanently strangled) stuffed monkey. Why Girl Powers cannot keep her hands off this ribbon is as big a mystery as why I cannot walk the extra eight steps to the office to put it with the other ribbons that I will never actually do anything with.
- I don’t know how to pronounce grosgrain.
- Speaking of playing with toys* in a less compulsively boring way than I did when I was little, THIS happened: * the term ‘toys’ is being generously expanded here to include toothpaste, grosgrain ribbon, and reluctant pets
- I’ve come to the conclusion that the ‘seven year itch’ you hear about with regard to marriage can only be attributed to the fact that people often buy new appliances around the time they get married and after about seven years, all said appliances begin simultaneously to crap out. Add to that the fact that odds are that if you’ve been married seven years you may also have small children afoot and that all of the above cost money you used to spend on drinks and vacations, and therein lies the rub – er, itch. It should be noted that my marriage is fantastic, but the part about appliances conspiring to go on permanent strike and children afoot – well, I can see how it could make you want to pick a fight with somebody.
- These are the kind of things I think about when I open the fridge to get cheese to make a quesadilla (see #1) and the door jerks on its hinge and I remember that in a particular moment of domestic chaos (translation: lunch) yesterday, Girl Powers hung with all her weight on the refrigerator door handle and off popped part of a plastic doodad of indeterminate origin.
- Note to self: find a place for aforementioned doodad that is not the counter (see #2)
- Yesterday Girl Powers and I were doing a little creative writing – she dictated a story about a picture she had just colored, and I wrote it all down. The story was about a frog named Gloria who kept asking his (yes, his) mom if he could do certain things – swing, play in the sandbox – and she kept telling him no, and then his dad came home and said yes to the first thing he asked to do.
- I decided not to read anything into this.
- I’m doing this again, aren’t I?
- To make up for it, here are two sentences Boy Powers said today that sound so funny coming out of the mouth of someone who is not yet two and looks even younger: Can somebody pass me the edamame? and (referring to the cake pops at Starbucks he asks for every time we go) You told me I could have one of those balls on my birthday. I’m not filling in words in spaces left by typical toddler-ese – those are the actual sentences as they were uttered.
- That’s all I got. Well that, and three pictures having nothing to do with anything.