Oh, The Stories She Tells

Gosh, I have OH SO MUCH to talk about. Really, really important stuff. But nothing is inspiring me to bore you with it tell you about it. Or at least to tell you about it in a witty, funny, engaging fashion. Which, I know, is exactly what you've all come to expect from me, no?

So, I suppose I'll just START and then we'll see where this takes us.

Where to begin...where to begin. Let's see....um...so....um...let's see...ever heard the one about the Priest and the Rabbi and the Russian? They're on an airplane and there's something about a Bible, a Torah and a bottle of vodka? Or something. Or maybe it's not a Priest and a Rabbi. I think it's maybe a Jamaican, a German and a Russian. Rum, Beer & Vodka, maybe? Anyway, the Russian ends up jumping out of the airplane after the bottle of vodka. Ha! I know, right? That's hilarious. Maybe you had to be there for it. It's a joke my grandfather used to tell. There was another one he used to tell about a Bible Salesman. It was really funny too. You'll just have to take my word for it, cause I can't remember it either. And then there was one about an Indian Chief (or Native American Tribal Chief as he would be known today) who had a son who went on a quest (or walkabout, as it would be known Down Under) and never came back. His name was "Falling Rock" and that's why you see all those signs on the road that say "Watch for Falling Rock(s)" Get it? He was funny. Or, my personal favorite, which I DO remember. Here ya go:

A man was driving along a road when he hit a cat. (See how funny it is already?)

He stopped his car and went to check on the kitty. It was dead. (are you laughing yet?)

The cat didn't have a collar on, so he knocked on the door of the nearest house.

"Do you have a cat?" he asked

"Yes, why?" was the reply

"I just hit a cat and killed it and I don't know who it belongs to because it didn't have tags."

The woman, sobbing, says "What did the cat look like?"

"It looked like this:

*Photo edited with Picnik's 1960's feature. Cause that's what most of my pictures of my grandfather look like.

Ha! Get it? As if the cat was shielding itself from the impact. Instead of telling her it was orange with white stripes, he SHOWED her what it looked like as he was about it HIT IT? Are you laughing? It was funny, right?

Moving along...I bought a new car seat yesterday. My baby boy has just about outgrown his infant carrier. Plus, my arm is about to fall off from carrying him around in that damn thing. Plus, he sits up now, so he can graduate to sitting in the cart when were at Target to Trader Joe's, instead of being plopped in the seat, carrier and all. Of course, I went with the top of the line, most expensive Britax Boulevard. Money is no object when it comes to my children's car seat safety. Just keep your fingers crossed that our tax return is deposited quickly and efficiently into my bank account. So, Zach's been switched over to Dylan's Britax Marathon and Dylan's in the new seat. Until he's a bit bigger and qualifies for upgrade into a Booster seat, at which point I'll switch the seats AGAIN. It's a never ending circle of excitement around here, people.

In other news, here is a current* snapshot of our radar: It's supposed to rain today. With Thunderstorms. We're given the possibility of thunderstorms approximately 5 times a year. Only about 1 time a year do they actually occur. Last year, we did not have ANY thunderstorms. Not. A. One. Which is thoroughly depressing to me. I LOVE thunderstorms. I thought I heard a rumble last night, which was very exciting and I would have sprung out of bed and looked out the window, except I'd just gotten back into bed after being up with Zach (which we'll talk about later) and I did not see any lightning through my curtains and seeing lightning is what's exciting, because you can't see thunder and it's just as easy to lay in bed and listen to thunder, if not easier and warmer, than to get up and look out the window to hear it. Turns out it was a rocket launch from the nearby Air Force Base. Thunder/Rocket. You'd be surprised how often I confuse the two. It's easy to do at 3:00am.

Oh, and Zach? Won't sleep anymore. He wakes up approximately 324 times a night. He also DEMANDS to eat, and at 11, 2, 4, and 6 I give in because it's easier to just feed the little fucker than to listen to him SCREAM. My sweet, quiet, easy child turns into a fierce, starving pain in the ass in the night. I think he might be part werewolf. But don't tell DJ. He's already suspicious.

Let's see...what else. Oh! Dylan has learned to give a "thumbs up".

Or not. Whatever. Maybe some sort of body part lesson is in order. Apparently they don't teach thumb/finger recognition on Sprout, Dora, Diego, WonderPets, SpongeBob or The Simpsons. Who knew. Maybe I should stop relying on cartoons to teach him these things. I suppose I could just sit down and teach him, but then that would take away from my blogging time and how important is it for a three year to know the difference between his pointer finger and his thumb, really? I could always explain that his pointer finger is the one he sticks up his nose. That would provide some sort of distinction for him.

The most important thing he's learned from The Simpsons is this:

The Full Moon

Actually, he learned that from his father, who thankfully did not demonstrate, just coached him from the sidelines. Now Dylan does it all the time. "I'm going to show you my butt" he says as he turns around and drops his drawers. I'm trying to show him how to do it without pulling his pants ALL the way down, so I don't have to use a blurry spot. You know, because we don't need to see his junk.

So, I guess that's it. For now.

*This radar shot was current about an hour and a half ago. It is now raining, but with no signs of thunder. Because I know you're curious and I'm trying to keep it real.