Last night, Jared and I were sitting on the couch waiting for a phone call. As a way to pass the time, we decided to go over to my sidebar and look at my very first blog post. It was completely "awwwwwww" worthy, with a 17-month-old James wearing my now-extinct purple shoes.
We moved on to some other posts, and I've got to say that while a lot of them were completely lame, this post had us absolutely busting up in laughter.
I don't know, maybe you had to be there. But just in case you didn't, go check it out.
(click on the words 'this post' to read it....)
Rainy Days and YouTube
August 25, 2010
Some things in life just don't need any commentary:
I really, really, really, really love that.
Some things in life just don't need any commentary:
I really, really, really, really love that.
It Came From My Husband's Colon
August 24, 2010
I have no idea how Jared will be able to get through his day at work. Now it's not anything super horrible like a law suit, or a pink slip, or a seven hour conference call without a six foot sandwich, but it's almost as bad.
The man has an incredible case of the farts right now.
Last night, his gas was so intense, that it woke me out of a dead sleep at least three or four times. There I was, floating through a gigantic dreamy room full of helium balloons, when all of the sudden I was startled awake. But instead of screaming, I was like, "Oh, ew. Oh my..... *cough cough* Jared, I think I'm choking!" And I was forced to throw open the sash, stick my head into the cold night air, and fight for my breath--just like the dad in The Night Before Christmas.
Let's just go ahead and file the whole experience under the WRETCHED tab.
This morning, I've got to admit that the insane farting had wandered away from my mind. I was definitely more focused on slapping together a couple of triple decker peanut butter and jelly sandwiches--you know, for my professional health care provider husband. He likes Goldfish crackers and juice boxes, too--but not Capri Suns, I think they're too sugary for his body.
I finished making his lunch and hopped into the shower--and let me just say that I love my morning shower. It's all hot, and steamy (I'm being literal here, so let's just choose the right, okay?), and no one bothers me. It's the eight minutes I have to myself every day, and I will freely admit that I cherish and protect that time above all else.
So there I was, soaping up my undercarriage, when all the sudden, I caught a whiff of something fierce. Something that reminded me all to well of a moldy salami and cheese sandwich, in a cow barn, with poop stacked up to the ceiling. It came from my husband's colon, and it was humid in that bathroom, so the smell just lingered.
The rest of the morning was filled with occasional bursts of that same horrific--and confusing--smell. Jared said he was trying to get it all out of his system since his day is totally stacked with patients. Well, I hope he laid something completely amazing in his station wagon during his morning commute, because I can promise that they weren't getting any milder around the dining room table.
I told him, in no uncertain terms, that he COULD NOT TRY TO SNEAK A FART IN WHILE HE'S TREATING A PATIENT TODAY. THERE'S NOTHING SNEAKY ABOUT THESE FARTS!
He agreed. If he needs to let one rip, he'll do it in the vault (his office used to be a bank). After all, if once upon a time it safely contained millions of dollars, it should definitely be able wrangle a little ol' fart or two, right?
Man I hope so.
I have no idea how Jared will be able to get through his day at work. Now it's not anything super horrible like a law suit, or a pink slip, or a seven hour conference call without a six foot sandwich, but it's almost as bad.
The man has an incredible case of the farts right now.
Last night, his gas was so intense, that it woke me out of a dead sleep at least three or four times. There I was, floating through a gigantic dreamy room full of helium balloons, when all of the sudden I was startled awake. But instead of screaming, I was like, "Oh, ew. Oh my..... *cough cough* Jared, I think I'm choking!" And I was forced to throw open the sash, stick my head into the cold night air, and fight for my breath--just like the dad in The Night Before Christmas.
Let's just go ahead and file the whole experience under the WRETCHED tab.
This morning, I've got to admit that the insane farting had wandered away from my mind. I was definitely more focused on slapping together a couple of triple decker peanut butter and jelly sandwiches--you know, for my professional health care provider husband. He likes Goldfish crackers and juice boxes, too--but not Capri Suns, I think they're too sugary for his body.
I finished making his lunch and hopped into the shower--and let me just say that I love my morning shower. It's all hot, and steamy (I'm being literal here, so let's just choose the right, okay?), and no one bothers me. It's the eight minutes I have to myself every day, and I will freely admit that I cherish and protect that time above all else.
So there I was, soaping up my undercarriage, when all the sudden, I caught a whiff of something fierce. Something that reminded me all to well of a moldy salami and cheese sandwich, in a cow barn, with poop stacked up to the ceiling. It came from my husband's colon, and it was humid in that bathroom, so the smell just lingered.
The rest of the morning was filled with occasional bursts of that same horrific--and confusing--smell. Jared said he was trying to get it all out of his system since his day is totally stacked with patients. Well, I hope he laid something completely amazing in his station wagon during his morning commute, because I can promise that they weren't getting any milder around the dining room table.
I told him, in no uncertain terms, that he COULD NOT TRY TO SNEAK A FART IN WHILE HE'S TREATING A PATIENT TODAY. THERE'S NOTHING SNEAKY ABOUT THESE FARTS!
He agreed. If he needs to let one rip, he'll do it in the vault (his office used to be a bank). After all, if once upon a time it safely contained millions of dollars, it should definitely be able wrangle a little ol' fart or two, right?
Man I hope so.
Maggie
August 18, 2010
This is my Maggie.
Smile:
Smile:
Still smiling:
According to our Most Saintly Daycare Provider of Angle Voices and Heavenly Hosts, Maggie had a good time on her first day. She was super smiley, and just sort of observed the other kids while she sat in the middle of the floor and banged on the top of a plastic barnyard.
James let me know that Maggie likes toys and friends much, much more than she likes file cabinets and my fax machine.
And me? Well, I'm just proud that I finally got her out of pajamas. Milestones all around.
Gigantic Onions
August 12, 2010
Whatever, whatever....you already know that we joined a CSA this year--but trust me when I tell you that you have absolutely no idea how huge these local onions are!
This picture will give you a good point of reference:
Whatever, whatever....you already know that we joined a CSA this year--but trust me when I tell you that you have absolutely no idea how huge these local onions are!
This picture will give you a good point of reference:
I know! It's unbelievable! Check 'em out from this angle:
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