Lost then Found

Then lost again.
Then found.
I lost my curling iron. Gone. Disappeared.
I tore the house apart looking for it. Who loses a curling iron? Honestly. I'm ashamed to admit, friends and brethren, that I took the Lord's name in vain.
Finally, I went out and bought a new one. I was so proud of myself. Only $11 to replace it! I was expecting to spend $20!
I brought it home and used it once before it broke. The buttons popped out. Can you believe that? Just popped right out. I couldn't even turn it off. I had to unplug it!
So, I returned it and bought a much fancier curling iron on sale for 50% off! Only $15! I am an amazing shopper.
Then, true to lost-item-buy-a-new-one-to-replace-it form, I found the old curling iron. I discussed it with Richard and decided to return the $15--slash--$30 curling iron (that I had never used yet at this point) to get my money back.
But then we couldn't find it.
So, I went to use the old one.
Couldn't find it either.
Just when I started to think Richard was playing a cruel joke on me, I found both of them.
I think I'll keep them both, just in case.

* * *

This just in: A fancy curling iron will burn your ear just as fast as an old one.

Parade

Tonight, Rich and I decided to walk the baby and dog to Dairy Queen for a little outing and a treat. We live about one tenth of a mile from Lexington Avenue, which as you probably know, is a very busy street.

The four of us set out toward Lexington (on which lies DQ), and realized that we were not alone. Trotting about ten paces behind us, came Kitty with his collar bell jingling and talking to himself...or us, I'm not sure.

Jingle, mrow, jingle, mrow, jingle, mrow.

We thought for sure that when we reached Lexington, Kitty would turn around and go home. We even crossed the street.

Instead, he sat on the corner, waiting for a pause in traffic.

Richard said, "Let's go home. If he gets hit by a car, you're going to freak out."

"That's true," I said.

So, we paraded back home.

It was a nice walk anyway.

It ain't easy being green.

I invested in one of those reusable grocery bags.

I know.

Honestly, it was for more selfish reasons than green reasons. I'm so tired of plastic bags everywhere. Ev.er.y.where.

I've used it four times now, and I have to say, it's a refreshing change, AND it holds twice as much as a regular plastic bag.

Here's the thing, though: typically at Walmart, I use the "self-check" aisle, which is not green bag friendly. After the fifth item that "skipped bagging," I had to get special approval from the head cashier. By then, I had smashed my bread, the toddler with her mom in line behind us had thrown a frozen pizza into my pile of stuff on the conveyor belt, and my baby had woken up.

As I walked out, I realized I had forgotten the item I went in for.

Sigh.

I didn't go back.

I mean, I can live without maxi pads. Less waste in a landfill, right?

Nothin' Doin'

We are both still in our pajamas.

I'm not doing anything today. We're taking the day off.

Can I take a nap yet?

Rabies?

No thanks, I'm full.

This morning, Pedro was going crazy outside so I went out to see what was causing the problem. I stepped on to the deck in time to see something fall from the top of our oak tree. I walked to the fence to see what it was, only to see the cat at the base of the tree, and watch him hop up over the fence back into the yard.

He trotted toward the door as if he was going to take the BABY SQUIRREL IN HIS MOUTH inside the house.

I don't usually get too upset about this kind of stuff (huge lie), except that the squirrel was STILL. ALIVE. and batting it's arms and legs in a swimming motion, surely as it slowly died in Kitty's mouth.

I yelled at the cat and stomped my feet and watched him run under the deck with his lunch.

I have a bad feeling that there will be a partially digested squirrel baby in the middle of my living room by morning.

Good thing we went to the vet yesterday for that distemper combination.

Gr. oss.

It's a Dog's World

Shirley Girly and I have been going for walks through the neighborhood. We usually go during the work day, so I don't see many of the neighbors, except for the retirees (Paul, Gladys, Barbara) and the one other SAHM on the street (Kim).

From now on we will be walking during the daytime hours ONLY.

Why?

I was completely humiliated tonight when everyone we passed said, "Hello Erin and Pedro! Who's this new little girl?" And I was only able to respond with things like, "Hi! You're Lulu's mom, right?" Or, "How's Ollie doing?" Or, "Rocky is getting so big!"

It's NOT. COOL. that I only know the names of the neighborhood dogs.

Sister Time

I spent two hours alone with my sister tonight. Among the normal girl stuff we usually talk about, we covered the following:

-The guy who came in to the GAP to try on a bikini.

-The guy who came in to Perkins and asked Lauren if she liked his new breasts.

-The girl at the restaurant last night who tried to lick Lauren. Twice.

-The guy at the golf club who sold his nail salon and gave Lauren ten free nail polish bottles out of the trunk of his car. (This one isn't quite as weird, but when you look at the other things that happens to Lauren, it just sort of fits.)

-Watching a man eat the worm out of the bottom of the bottom of the tequila bottle (OK, mezcal, if we're gonna get technical) and telling Lauren all about the texture--it's more like a grub than a worm, but not as soft as a caterpillar.

And you guys thought my work bathroom stories were crazy.

This girl needs a blog, am I right?

Not again!

Seriously. Someone come do my laundry.

Trade Ya

Richard and his friends frequently trade labor.

For instance, Aaron helped fix our roof and Rich, in turn, helped fix Aaron's truck.

Good idea, right?

Well, I have a proposal for the SAHM world.

I'll clean your bathroom(s) once a week if you'll fold and put away my laundry. You don't even have to wash the clothes. I'll have everything fresh and clean and crammed into a laundry basket for you ,and on the day of your choosing we'll go to each other's houses and trade labor.

Deal?