Tuesday, September 29, 2009

This is it for the day, I promise.

Facebook isn't working AGAIN so I am forced to purge myself on my blog instead of on my status bar. Too bad for you, my wonderful readers! Mitch and the kids took me out for my birthday tonite. I went to one of my favorite restaurants and had three of my favorite things: Cheese curds for an appetizer, a quesadilla with delicious chipotle/sour cream sauce, and cheesecake for dessert.

Looks like I will be celebrating my first week of being 39 by not pooping. At all.

After the restaurant we thought we should go somewhere to burn off the calories so we went dancing. Here's me shakin' it:

Just kidding. That's not really me. But I love this picture. Especially the way the guys in the background are looking at this poor poor woman.

OMG!!!!!!!!!


OH MY GOD! Look what I got for my birthday!!!! In case you don't immediately recognize it because you've only ever seen it in a thumbnail picture on your Amazon wishlist, it is the entire series of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman. Over 120 hours. All six seasons. Two RARE feature-length movies and exclusive bonuses with cast interviews, commentaries AND MORE! And it comes in this beautiful case.


In case you didn't already know this about me, Dr. Quinn is my favorite show EVER. Amy and I were obsessed with it. We taped it and meticulously labeled each tape with the name of each episode, and watched them over and over until we practically had complete psychological profiles on every character. If you ever want to know something about Dr. Quinn, I'm your woman. "Okay, Sarah," you say, "Which Colleen was better?" I say, hands down, the first one. They replaced her because she got too booby. Hard to stuff double D's into a prairie dress. The second Colleen was okay, but her head was distractingly gigantic.

Our favorite things about the show (besides Jane Seymour and all her wonderfulness) was that the Brian character was a little perv; every time someone said something to make a point you'd hear a hawk quietly punctuate the moment with a mournful "Caw...."; and when Dr. Quinn got mad she never yelled, she only whisper yelled, and then dramatically stormed out of the room. Oh, and Sully, hot hot Sully.

Thank you Amy, from the bottom of my heart. I love it and I have already told the kids that this is what we will be watching on movie night for the next two years. They're.... excited?

Happy Birthday to Me!

It's my birthday today. I'm 468 months. Most of the time I feel like I'm still 20 (240 months), but sometimes I feel like I'm 70 (a kabillion months), like whenever I bend over, or try to kneel, or look in a mirror. Up to this point, I was aging pretty well I think, but now my adorably plump cheeks are starting to deflate and I'm beginning to bear a slight resemblance to Joseph Lieberman.

Handsome!

I hope I don't get his turkey neck too.

I got myself some presents, because that's just how I roll.


These are the new shoes I treated myself to. Sensible and can be worn with anything! With age comes wisdom. (I hope they stretch a little bit.)


I got these "skinny" jeans to recapture my youth and to prove to the world that I've still got it! I'm already getting comments. Today some stranger said "Hey Muffin-Top, NICE PANTS!"

Thank you kind sir, for the compliment and the nickname. It's nice to be noticed on your birthday.

Monday, September 28, 2009

My Geekiness Revealed

As some of you may have noticed, I do not always use proper English when writing this blog. I know I know, you're saying, "But Sarah, you're an English major! Surely you know how to conjugate the verb lie as in lie in bed." Of course I do and I just tested myself by taking a quiz on this site and I got a perfect score. I am taking a stand against this irregular verb and using it in the regular fashion. Totally on purpose. I will not lie in a bed when I could much easier lay in a bed. I will not say I have lain anywhere. I simply refuse. It's too stupid. To lie means to tell an untruth, and to confuse it with laying on a bed is just asking for trouble.

Along the same lines, I will write tonite instead of tonight. It's more efficient and just makes more sense. I will not however confuse the words site and sight because they mean different things. See, I have my own rules so I'm not stupid or uneducated. I'm a rebel with a cause. A grammar cause.

So if you see a verb that isn't conjugated in the "proper" fashion, or if you see a more simplistic spelling of a word, know that I'm doing it on purpose to make this a better world for us all.

You're welcome.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Travel Much?

I'm sitting at home today being totally lazy. The most productive thing I've done (so far) aside from reading blogs, is clean out between the keys on my computer with a corn holder. There was a shocking amount of hair stuffed down there. And food.

One of the blogs I read is Kady Hexum's. She is on a trip to Norway right now and I am so jealous!

She has been all over the world. I fancy myself a traveler, although I haven't been anywhere abroad in 12 years. (stupid kids)(just kidding kids! Love you to pieces!) That was a trip to Oxford, England to take a Shakespeare class at Worcestershire College. Fancy huh! I also lived in Australia for a year when I was 12. I told my parents, "I'm out! Gotta see the world!" Just kidding. They came with me.

The thing about traveling is that actual traveling is so much different than the idea of traveling. I watch travel shows and the people are trying new food, and they are bragging about their accommodations, whether it is a hostel or a fancy hotel. The travel shows never talk much about jet lag or how traveling totally screws up your poop schedule, or how the foreign food that at the beginning of your trip was novel and interesting, makes you want to cry at the end of your trip. And they never tell you about the things that most Americans would think are totally fun. Like taking your picture in front of a sign like this:


I'd be willing to bet all the money in my wallet that Rudy Maxa and Rick Steves both have pictures of themselves in front of signs like this. This is Kady on her trip in Norway.

When I went to England I stayed in a beautiful room on the college campus in what they called the "new" building, which was built in the 1700s. The "old" building was built in the 1000s. I always feel like such an ungrateful baby when I travel because I tend to focus on the problems and get homesick for stupid stuff. For instance, although my room at Oxford was beautiful, the bathroom was down one floor. I have to pee during the night every night, so I would have to get up, put on a robe, march down a flight of stairs, pee and then march back up. By the time I got back I was wide awake. That made me very tired and cranky so to solve my problem, I found an empty peanut butter jar (don't ask) and when I'd have to pee in the middle of the night I'd pee in that, and then in the morning I would have to scout out the hallway to make sure nobody was around so I could bring my full-to-the-brim pee-jar down to the bathroom to empty it. Not very glamorous, and at the time, highly stressful. Thankfully, I never got caught.

We took our meals at Oxford in a dining hall that looked just like the dining hall in the Harry Potter movies. So nice, right? But about half way through the second week I was so sick of lamb that every time I saw lamb with gagorific mint sauce I wanted to stab someone's eyeballs out. How many lambs can the English eat? Judging from those three weeks you'd think there should be an international lamb shortage.

See, I'm a total crybaby. I shouldn't be allowed to travel. Now, when I think about that trip, I wish I would have quit being such a baby and just relaxed and enjoyed it more.

But, thanks to Kady, I have the travel bug and I think now, with 12 more years of life experience and 12 years of eating truly disgusting things off my children's plates, or that I've cooked myself, I would be a much more appreciative and mature traveler. I'll just plan ahead and bring a laxative and an empty peanut butter jar, and a bag of candy bars and then I'll be happy, and comfortable. Right?

These are the top five places I want to go:

1. Italy - because I would love to see the Vatican, and the Colosseum, and Venice.

2. Jerusalem - I want to see The Old City: The Dome of the Rock, the Temple Mount; all that jazz.

3. Istanbul - because it's half in Europe and half in Asia! Super cool! I want to see Hagia Sofia, the Hippodrome and take a boat tour of the Bosporus.

4. Oman - I'd like to see huge sand dunes and travel on camels and stay in a real Arabian tent. Think I'd find something to complain about? Oh yeah! But I'd still like to do it. Unless there are scorpions. Then tent-living is OUT.

5. Australia - I'd like to see it now that I'm an adult and I'd like to have a couple of months and tons of money to do it. I want to go to Darwin, Ayers Rock and Sydney.

So, my friends, are you a traveler? Where are the top five places you'd like to go?

Friday, September 25, 2009

My first bald spot

Last month on the girls "camping" weekend, Jonelle noticed that my eyebrows were badly in need of a plucking so she offered up her services. I thought that maybe it was just a long delayed payback for the time I plucked her eyebrows before her brother's wedding and accidentally made them really *angry* (Hey, I never said I was a cosmetologist) but she assured me she had nothing but altruistic intentions. So I laid on my back on the floor and trusted her. It was extremely painful and I can only guess bloody judging from all the times she wiped them off. After a particularly painful pluck I opened my eyes to give her a dirty look and she and Cari Ann both had this look on their faces:


No, they're not cats, but I didn't have an actual picture of them looking surprised, so I just googled "suprised face" and this came up. It was a look that said, "Oops." Jonelle had accidentally plucked a few hairs that, when removed, left a gaping bald spot. I said, "What?" and she said very non-chalantly, "Oh, nothing.... You might have to use an eyebrow pencil for a few weeks."

I was driving around this morning, five weeks after the plucking incident, and at a stoplight I happened to glance into the rear-view mirror and noticed that my eyebrow still has a distinct bald patch. I took a closer look and noticed the hair did grow back in that spot, but it's gray so you can't see it because as it turns out, my skin is also gray. (I feel so pretty!)


I used to have gorgeous, thick eyebrows:


I thought they were a pain in the ass because some stray hairs grew down to my eyelid and up into my hairline. Well, I don't have that problem any more! At the rate I'm going I'm going to be drawing them on soon. Maybe I should give up now, shave them and be done with it. This looks natural and beautiful, doesn't it?



Thursday, September 24, 2009

I need a job

This is a picture of the kids getting ready for school in the morning. "Wait a minute!" you say, "It's pitch black outside, it can't possibly be morning!" You're preaching to the choir, internet. I think anything before 7:30 (a.k.a. "crack of dawn") is the middle of the night. The first few days I had to go back to bed after the kids left (don't tell them) but now I'm managing much better. Am I a little princess? Maybe.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Dear Sam's Club, You suck.

Today I decided that I am going to steal something from Sam's Club. "But," you say to me, "Sarah, that's illegal and morally reprehensible! Why would you want to do that? Is that really who you are... deep down?" No. I'm not a stealer. I mean thief. (I'm an English major!) When the people at the grocery store forget to ring up my cases of Diet Coke, I remind them, and if after I remind them, they still don't do it, I go to the service desk and tell what happened, and pay. I'm awesome that way.

The reason I want to steal from Sam's Club is because the lines are always so long and because after you wait 20 minutes in line and pay, you walk a straight line TWENTY FEET to the exit and before you can get the HELL out of there, some lady has to check your slip against everything in your cart and okay it on the receipt with a highlighter.

What the fuck is with that?

And she really checks! She moves things and looks under other things. What could I possibly steal while I walked in a line from the cash register to the door? What happens if they don't check it? Who's checking for the stupid highlighter mark? Why must they waste my time being totally redundant and insulting at the same time? "Just makin' sure nobody steals!" Like it would be hard to steal something if you really wanted to.

Today the anti-theft lady made comments about what I was buying! Ugh! Shut up lady! I don't care if you also use the half-gallon jug of Astro-Glide and it has changed your marriage. I don't care, and I'm already pissed off because I've just waited in TWO long lines.

So the next time I go, I'm taking something. I haven't decided on what yet. Probably something small and cheap because I don't want to commit grand larceny and I don't think I could slip a big screen tv past even the dumbest employee. Any ideas?

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Why are big balls so funny?

video
The neighbor kid got this huge ball that the kids can climb in and roll around in. Sam put it on and ran around the lawn and it made me laugh so hard I had to film it. Why is my family so weird?

Friday, September 18, 2009

Sam's getting a man voice


Sam's voice is changing into a man-voice. Sometimes I can't tell if it's Mitch talking in the next room or if it's Sam. He has to talk really quietly now though, because if he raises his voice it cracks like Peter Brady's voice in the Brady Bunch. It got me thinking nostalgically of back when the kids learned to talk in the first place.

Before the kids could talk they were a lot like pets. Kira didn't speak until she was almost two, and then it was only in one word sentences. She would mostly form her mouth into a perfect O and say "Oooooooooo" and point to what she wanted. The oooing worked for her and was surprisingly effective. One afternoon she was oooing and fussing and bugging me. Her pants were clean. She wasn’t thirsty. She wasn’t hungry. I got some toys and games out and tried to play with her, but she didn’t want to play either. I got frustrated and said, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT, YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO LEARN TO SPEAK. ”


The next day she pointed at the refrigerator and said, “ooooo c c cup.” Shortly after that she learned to say, “ooooo eat, ooooo done, ooooo light” and “ooooo tape.” All of her words sounded very strained. Imagine a man dying in the desert; think of they way he croaks out the words “water......water.” That’s how she said everything.

Why "Ooooooo tape," you ask? Tape was an important part of her vocabulary because from the age of about ten minutes she had the ability to remove her diaper by herself. The only way to keep her from being naked all the time was to tape her diaper on her tightly. It was only masking tape; and it wasn't like I taped it to her skin or anything, I just wrapped it around her waist five or six times to keep the tabs down. After a while she insisted on being taped. When we would change her she'd say, “tape... ooooooo tape....tape,” and she'd struggle to sit up and point to the industrial roll we kept on her dresser. Like we’d forget.


Sam, on the other hand, was extremely chatty early on. (However, for a long time he wasn't so good with math -- Auntie Beth convinced him there are no numbers after 10.) He had one long-lasting speech impediment and I was sort of sorry to see it go. He couldn't say the “s” in words where the “s” is immediately followed by a consonant. For instance, instead of saying “skunk,” he'd say, “’kunk.” One summer, after playing all afternoon with Uncle Tom, Sam brought me a grasshopper in a jar. He was telling me everything Tom told him about grasshoppers. He said, “You know what it eats, Mom?” I said, “Grass?” He laughed and said, “No Silly, Human flesh!” I said, "uh... what?" He said, “Human flesh, you know, ‘kin and ‘tuff.”

Aunts and Uncles are so important.

The kids still have some language quirks. Sam puts an N in vegetable so it's pronounced "venchtable," and Kira calls buttocks "butt hocks." As in, "I kicked that kid right in the left butt hock!" I'm not correcting them because I think it's cute. Is that mean?

Irrational Fears

I think I may have a touch of OCD and it manifests itself in irrational fears that I worry about and fret over. I have lots of rational fears too, but they aren't very fun to talk about so this is just a list of the most ridiculous things I'm afraid of. Maybe if I shed some light on them, they will stop bothering me.

1. Dropping my iPod into the toilet. I don't even bring it in the bathroom, but I'm pretty sure someday, somehow, it will meet its fate in a toilet.

2. Going bald

3. Becoming a quadriplegic. This would be a rational fear if I ever did anything dangerous, but I don't so it's irrational. And it's also a fear because Mitch asked me one day if I'd ever wear a shirt that said "Jam Out with your Clam Out" on it. I said no, obviously, gross. And he said, "If you're ever a quadriplegic you'll wear that shirt every day."


4. Bears. I watched a documentary about Yellowstone the other day and it re-awakened my irrational fear of bears. They are so fast and bloodthirsty!

yikes!

5. Spiders crawling in my mouth when I sleep.

6. Flesh eating bacteria.

7. Nuclear winter.

8. Sharks.

9. This crab:


So, what are your irrational fears? Public speaking? Dying alone? Peeing your pants at work? (been there, done that; not that scary) Tell me in the comments!

Thursday, September 17, 2009

More Old Pictures

I've been scanning old pictures that were taken on film (what the heck is that?) so I thought I'd share a few. I noticed today when I was scanning that there seemed to be a theme in the pictures I randomly chose, so I will call this post Sam and the Fight to Get Him to Eat.

When he was a baby, Sam didn't care if he ever ate or not. I could forget to give him a bottle and he wouldn't cry or anything. He'd just say, "Man, I've got a headache!" and I'd say, "Oh, that's too bad, when's the last time you ate?" and then I'd remember that I was responsible for feeding him and I'd feel terrible. (Oh relax, it was never more than a day!)(Just kidding.) When he started eating solid food I had to tie him tightly to his bouncy seat to keep him from slapping the spoon out of my hand. Then I'd sort of have to hold his head with one hand and shove the spoon in his mouth with the other. It was a constant fight and very messy.

Ironically, he'd put anything unreasonable in his mouth with only the slightest suggestion. We thought that was funny and it made for many funny pictures, like this one where my dad was seeing if he would eat a petunia. He would.

One of my favorite memories was when I had company over for dinner one night and we were eating spaghetti. Without saying anything to my guests I took a HUGE serving spoon and piled it high with spaghetti and pretended to feed it to Sam, who saw it coming and opened his mouth as wide as he could. I wish I had a picture of their faces. I just said, "What?" My sister thought it was funny.

When he was a preschooler, I had to make meals "fresh" and "adventurous" like this time when he wouldn't eat unless it was a picnic lunch outside. Winter picnic. Fun.

This picture has nothing to do with Sam and his history of being finicky, but I liked it so I thought I'd throw it on at the end. Kira, buck naked, potty training in front of the Christmas tree. Talk about "fresh" and "adventurous!"

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

I'm a much better mother when my kids aren't around

This is the first full week of school for Sam and Kira, and I have gotten so much done and been such a good mother when they've been gone! I've made good food, and all their laundry is done and folded and put away, and the house is nice and clean, and everything is organized and in it's place. Ahhh. So nice. I feel like I'm a step ahead of them instead of two steps behind them.

At the same time I cannot believe how fast they are growing up. Kira got in bed with me the other day and her head was right next to mine and her feet were touching my feet. What! When did she get that big? I still see her like this:

This was the day that she destroyed her crib at the crack of dawn. Mitch and I heard a horrible crash and the sound of wood being split into kindling so we rushed into her room to see this. She was very proud that she finally figured a way out. This is the child I still see when I go to wake her up in the morning, but in reality, she looks like this:

It's like someone took away my baby and gave me a big kid. When did that happen?

This is Sam when he was a baby. This was one of our favorite games. It's called "accident victim." In this particular case I said, "Pretend you are Babe Ruth and you got hit by a car and you're laying in the road."

He was such a good sport. Still is. But now he is almost unrecognizable.

How can he be so big? I don't really see him as a baby anymore, I see him as a five year old. Like this:

Whenever I think of him or talk about him, this is the version of Sam that is in my mind.

I still see the kids as preschoolers who could run under the counters without a thought to hitting their heads, and as people who need help taking baths.

They don't let me help them with their baths anymore. Sam's pretty sure his penis is something I'd be shocked if I saw so he's super private. (Sorry about blogging about your penis, Sam.)

It's kind of bittersweet to look back at these pictures because while I'm so glad they are growing up to be such funny, smart, sweet people, I miss my babies desperately.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

The top five inventions I couldn't live without

I had lunch with a friend the other day (Hi Dana!) and we got to talking about cool inventions we couldn't live without and how we feel so dumb and lazy for not inventing anything. (yet) I thought about it (for about five minutes) and these are my top five favorite inventions (other than, you know, polio vaccines and really important stuff like that.)

1. Caller ID - I had this back when you had to buy a special box and have the phone company hook it up. It has saved me from hundreds of phone ambushes. Hundreds!

2. Technologically advanced thin prescription eyeglass lenses. If it wasn't for this I would look like an even bigger nerd than I already do. My glasses would be so thick that it would look like I was wearing goggles that were full of water. Like this kid:


3. Diet Coke. Sweet calorie-free nectar of the gods.

4. Deodorant maxi pads. Because they keep a person from smelling like the bastard child of a butcher at the end of a double shift, and a hunk of liverwurst left out in the sun. (Hey Always, you can use that for your commercials if you want.)

5. The Google and my laptop. Because they have made me seem (and feel) so much smarter than I actually am.

There's a lot more, of course, but I limited it to five because now, internet friends, I want to know what YOUR five favorite inventions are and why. Write them in the comments! I can't wait to read them!

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Sorry, Sam.

You've been dealt a double whammy with the greasy-hair gene. It's going to get a lot worse before it gets better. Your father and I are very sorry.

Friday, September 11, 2009

School

The kids are gone now, for eight hours a day, five days a week. After a few weeks this will start to get old. They will be complaining about homework and getting up early, but for now it's wonderful. Here's their first-day-of-school pictures: (It's actually Sam's fourth day of school.)

See the crazed, maniacal look on Kira's face? She's actually doing a good job of containing herself in this picture. She was tired/excited this morning and managed to get in an entire day's worth of exhausting-her-mother in before 7:00 am. She's efficient!

This one is cute. I told Sam to casually touch the branch but they both grabbed on to the tree for dear life.

Goodbye kids! Have a great year! Learn a lot!

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Why?









Meet my daughter, Monty Hall


Today I noticed a(nother) portion of Kira's behavior that, as her mother, has gotten away from me. She is a master negotiator. She's quick, unemotional and totally devious. Here's our conversation as we were running errands today:

Kira: I think we should go to Dairy Queen for a cone.
Me: Why would we do that?
Kira: It would be good, you know you want one.
Me: I don't think-
Kira: What do I have to give you to get you to go?
Me: (thinking) You have to wear pigtails on the first day of school. (I LOVE pigtails! She hates them.)
Kira: You know I hate pigtails. They look like antlers. Okay, the second day, not the first day, and for pigtails I get a blizzard.
Me: No, the first day, but I'll make them toward the back and low. And no blizzard, you can get a dipped cone instead of a plain one.
Kira: Okay, toward the back and really low, but if I agree to this, I get a medium blizzard, any kind I want.
Me: (thinking)
Kira: You know you love pigtails.
Me: No, how about for pigtails you get a small blizzard?
Kira: Fine. But I want Oreo Cookie Jar flavored.
Me: Fine.

The funny thing is that she had me feeling good about this negotiation. I felt like I won, but I didn't even want to go to Dairy Queen in the first place and not only did we go, but she got a blizzard out of it! And all I get is a couple lame "toward the back and low" pigtails. How did she do this to me?

Other things she's gotten me to agree to lately with her wheeling and dealing: Paying her $5 for not breaking a pot she made for one whole day (why would I even care about that?), Paying her $5 for not getting her shirt stained all day (In my defense, I can't lose that one), Getting me to agree to let her spend her $2 at Walmart on ANYTHING she wants (again, it's $2, what's she going to get? Fish, that's what. You can get a ridiculous amount of goldfish for $2.) etc. etc. etc. Sam's getting stronger than me, and Kira's getting smarter than me. Over the next 10 years motherhood is going to chew me up and spit me out and I'll be a worthless hull by the time I'm 50.

As we were finishing our blizzards, she said, "What would happen to me if I don't wear the pigtails now?"

Did I mention that I'm happy she starts school tomorrow?

Kira FINALLY starts school tomorrow.. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

Kira's school has been under construction all summer long because they totally gutted it and added on a section etc etc. Most kids in Duluth started school today. Sam started school on Tuesday. (He goes to Hermantown. Kira will too when she gets to middle school.) Kira's school delayed starting for an extra day because of the construction and it's been a LONG three days. She is reveling in the fact that Sam is at school and she isn't. She wants every day to be "special." On Tuesday we went to Canal Park and she swam.


"I wonder what Sam is doing right now? I bet he wishes he was here!"

Yesterday she went to a horse farm with Mitch and she got to pet mini-horses. She doesn't know this yet, but today she gets to go with me to the grocery store and Wal-Mart and I'm going to see if I can get her to the doctor to get some shots. (I'm not even kidding.) I'm not just mean, I have a plan; if she is absolutely miserable today, she will enjoy starting school tomorrow. Right?
Oh who cares! I will have a FANTASTIC day tomorrow! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

The Worm has Turned

My tiny baby boy can finally beat me in a wrestling match. I knew this day would come, I just didn't expect it to come so soon. Here's what happened:

He got home from school today and told me a little about his day and we kidded around with each other and he got a little playfully sassy so I said, "Oh Yeah?!" and got him on the floor and said, "Lets write a letter to Auntie Amy and tell her all about school!" which from the time he was about 3 was code for "let me pin you down to the ground and relentlessly tickle you and give you the typewriter and pretend I'm writing a letter to my sister."

He was pretty easy to get down. He's not used to his new dimensions (ridiculously long and skinny arms and legs). But as I was typing the letter to my sister, I noticed a new realization come over him. It was like he was thinking, "hey... wait a minute... she's not as strong as she used to be. And my arms are longer than hers, and I think I could turn the tables!" and he got ME down on my back and proceeded to give me a relentless typewriting. What! He's got a lot of strength and leverage in those long arms and skinny legs! Good thing he's generally so kind and gentle. I'm sure he'll be merciful with his mother.

Mitch thinks I will able to keep beating him because of my "pure meanness." Awww... I took it as a compliment at the time, but now that I write it down I'm thinking maybe it wasn't meant to be complimentary. Bastard. I'll get him.

Monday, September 7, 2009

I learned something very interesting over Labor Day Weekend...

I learned that there is quite an extensive network of swingers (I mean exchanging spouses for ... you know....) in my hometown. My sister and I were talking about people we've (mostly she's) heard are swingers and there are more than you could imagine! (Ew)

Then I got to thinking, I've been married for eleven years and not one of the many many couples I apparently know who are swingers has even hinted at swinging with Mitch and me. Not that I'd say yes, I would say, "I'm so flattered that you asked! But we're (am I being presumptuous by saying *we*, Mitch?) not into that, but thanks anyway! I appreciate the offer!"

Eleven years. Is it me? Is it Mitch? Do we smell? Have people noticed that I hardly ever shave my legs? Is it because Mitch and I are slowly turning into children's characters?