Free to be...Part Two

Oh hi! You came back!

My last post was something. If you haven't read it yet I will just say that this post will make much more sense if ya do.

Basically to summarize I recently realized that I need a little compassion in my life, compassion for others in my heart... manifested in actions and words.

I consider myself an OK person... sometimes a pretty decent human. Giving my time and things, sometimes an ear to people brings me joy. What I realized the other day was that though I love to give, I have not always been a great example as far compassion goes.

How can I expect people (including my children) to have compassion for me if I have little or none to give?

I think that having learned humor and sarcasm to deflect pain and to cope has a lot to do with that. Not to go back into it but yes, my childhood kinda sucked. I survived with laughter. My younger brother Ben and I made each other laugh.

A lot. By doing some really dorky things.

I believe that when one is broken down and is focusing on a singular thing such as survival... It can in some cases make you a feral animal. There's a smile on my face but if you look closer you realized that I am actually baring my teeth with sarcastic humor. It's not a smile at all.

The other day I decided I needed to be more compassionate in the midst of praying in the shower. Instead of asking for less pain or a miracle healing, I thanked Him for what I do have. In gratitude, with an open heart the truth was laid bare. Maybe I needed that gratitude, that softened heart to receive this message... and in this way I am choosing to learn from this experience.

I actually prayed to be more compassionate that day. I show love and care for the people I am closest to, sure. Heaven forbid you be a stranger and your bad day affects me, though. YOWZA. My husband has been known to leave my vicinity when things get ugly and I have and angry outburst because someone almost runs my kid over with their cart, or cuts in front of me in line.

Anger and sarcastic humor is a language all on it's own. I told my husband I only speak 2 languages, and English is the other. Compassion is not a language that is native to me. I understand a few words and phrases that might amount to the basics like "Where is the bathroom" or "My shoes are blue"... and probably all the curse words.

Compassion is devoid of sarcasm. They cannot really exist in the same space without causing a time/space paradox. ;) See? I cannot even talk about compassion right now without being sarcastic. Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?

I believe that you can love someone at a core level, you know it in every fiber of your being. Showing compassion is something else entirely. Compassion is not reserved for just the ones we love, either. I read blog post at Kind Over Matter recently (cannot remember the title) where she chanted a mantra in the face of adversity, "I don't know what you're going through".

And amazingly a link to Kind Over Matter was delivered to my inbox. Coincidence? I don't think so. It said:

Self-absorption in all its forms kills empathy, let alone compassion. When we focus on ourselves, our world contracts as our problems and preoccupations loom large. But when we focus on others, our world expands. Our own problems drift to the periphery of the mind and so seem smaller, and we increase our capacity for connection -- or compassionate action.

—
Daniel Goleman

Compassion through repetition, grace through practice.

It's a good place to start.

While learning this new language, I might slip up... fall short... chip a tooth. The possibilities are endless. It's all new to me, being mindfully compassionate instead of  a little compassion by way giving. I apologize in advance if I sound like this, I'll do better next time... I promise.
Enjoy :)

If I had a nickel...

I was at work last week telling one of my fabulous coworkers about what my girls have been up to- which, yes, would be trouble...thank you for asking- and she said, "Oh my God Mary, and you're having another one? You are so screwed."

After laughing for about 2 minutes , utterly and completely without rancor and irony, I wiped the tears from my eyes and simply replied, "Yes, oh God yes, this I know."

I am hoping for a Christ-like child if you want to know. Not that my girls aren't fun and entertaining but I have on occasion looked intently at their scalps to have the MISU ask what I was doing. I would reply with a saintly smile that I was looking for the "the mark of the beast", or the evil triple digit.

I would love it if God would somehow deem it necessary and right for me to have a child full of sweetness and light... and to be nothing like me. I already have 2 of those. I had thought for sure He had broken the mold, burned it, and then scattered the ashes to all corners of this little rock we live on. It's a nice thought anyway.

And if I cannot have a Christ-like child, dear Lord, if you should see fit to go with my alternate option... Please make my baby (if it's a boy) in Guy Fieri's image. You know... light hearted, easy going and later in life not ashamed to feed his momma. I'm just saying.

To be sure, I will say again that I have no one else to blame. I wouldn't say I would change my girls per se, just maybe "take a little off the sides". But they are who they are and I love them despite my ability to see in them at times all the little things that irk me about myself LOL! Yes, I have taught them well. ;)

Sooo, guess what?

Long time huh? I haven't updated in 9 months and I doubt anyone reads anymore anyway, but... John and I have decided to give it another go, and have been working on things since about August.

Anyway, guess who suspected she was preggers, decided she couldn't wait to get home to take a test so made a trip to the bathroom while shopping at Wally World for Thanksgiving dinner? And guess who-after having a mini nervous breakdown in said bathroom- left her cart, stumbled dazed and confused out of the store without purchasing the pregnancy test?

Yup, I am one classy b*tch, yo. Par for the course.

I will be 8 weeks next Tuesday. I had my first ultrasound this last Tuesday to make sure it was not ectopic. So far so good, saw the heart beat, the girls are very excited. A bit more excited than mom and dad at the moment, but I know we will get there.

I am constantly, and quite cheerfully reminded by a coworker of how lucky we are considering we were infertile the first 10 years of marriage, that we should be ecstatic.. I just smile and nod, while imagining myself barfing on her shoes. Then calling for a clean up on aisle 3 :)

So, we are starting from scratch since we gave away all of our baby stuff... not that some of it would be usable anyway, most of it would be 8 yrs old. We have to add a room in our walk up attic, buy a bigger car.

And plan the MISU's vasectomy ASAHP.

Hmm, Christmas is just around the corner. ;)

What a stinker!!!!

Anna has come to know and trust her mom as a pit checker. This means that if she is in any way concerned that she might be a little funky, she presents her arm in a salute and I do a quick damage control assessment. And sometimes I have to slap some deodorant on her pits after she has had an energetic day at school, because my girls don't get baths every day... they both have very dry skin and eczema. :/

Since nothing is sacred in this house, especially any alone time a mother could wish for ( ie: restroom breaks), Anna barged into the bathroom and asked that I do a pit check. From the throne I leaned forward and took a whiff, gasped, coughed, then took another whiff.

Upon seeing what I can only assume looked like shock, horror and/or utter disbelief, my darling 7 year old began to laugh hysterically. She laughed the laugh of a seasoned practical joker.

She literally ROFL'd.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?!!!!"

"Yeah," she giggled, barely able to form the words, "I knew it was bad, I wanted to see the look.... bwahahahahahaahahhhaaaaaa!"

*sigh* I shudder to think what April Fool's will bring. Heaven (and Proctor and Gamble) help me.



Today, Anna and Emma watched Diego (Anna is on Spring vacation), and Emma announced that she wanted to get Hungry Hippo Hippo ( Hungry Hungry Hippo) after seeing a commercial.

"You know, that game was out when I was a kid," I said to my two precious babes.

"When you were a kid, were the hippos like a bluish-gray," Anna asked me.

"Are you saying that I'm so old that games were in black and white when I was a kid?" My mouth dropped open in disbelief, then turned up in a smile because my sweet 7 year old is wise [and funny] beyond her years.

This was her response, or something akin to it anyway:

Man, are we in trouble.

Fill in the blank

The Goddess of Those Who Shall Not Be Tagged...

(but she gets tagged any way, much to her dismay... and the last time I tagged her I pulled the "my toddler is actually tagging you, not me" card. heheheeheheheeee......squee! But I should be off the hook now since I just did call her a Goddess. But, I digress... maybe I should put up a poll? Hmm, there's a thought. This has to be the longest post whisper in parenthesis EVAH! Maybe I should make a poll for that too. I digress again! Maybe this is the longets post whisper ever, with the most digressions ever? Poll #3 anyone?) ...

has done what Goddesses [of Those Who Shall Not Be Tagged] often do, which is to employ the whole "do as I say and not as I do" tactic. ;)

Yes. She tagged me. Payback is a sumumma gun.



She has blessed me with an interesting meme, one where you fill in the blanks... which- if you know me even a little, you know how dangerous a proposition that could be, depending on my mood and which way the wind is currently blowing.

Anyway, enjoy... some of it will shock and amaze you, and some of it is embarrassing to admit- but we're all friends here right?

1. I can’t believe I’ve never…

got my driver's license

But I'm working on it. :/

2. Every time I think about … I still cringe.

mistakes I have made as a mother and wife

3. I wish I’d …when I had the chance.

used the GI bill for college.

Now I work for minimum wage after 11 years of nursing experience. *sniff*

4. I’ve never felt so out of place as when I…

go to work at my new job, with a bunch of high school and college students LOL!

5. … is my guiltiest pleasure.

Shopping online, especially the clearance sections.

6. I hope … knows how grateful I am for …

John, Ben, Marci, and Aunt Yvonne...

loving me for who I am, right now, flaws and all.

7. In my darkest hours, I secretly blame … for my dysfunction.

my genetic donors. BAH!

But, it's no secret. ;)

8. … changed my life forever.

Finding a man who loves me, finally having kids, disowning my mother, and reconnecting with my sister


If you would like to do this meme, let me know in comments that you are doing it and I'll check it out!

You can't please everyone

So, last night I was asking Emma about what she wants on her birthday cake. Didn't I just do all of that? For the last 3 years I have fought the overwhelming urge to combine their birthdays because just when I feel like I can let my hair down, here comes Emma's birthday too.

The poor kid is already destined to a life of hand-me-downs, and I would feel horrible about not putting as much effort in to her birthday... so I persevere. ;)

Anyway, last night I put the baby booger to bed, and after weeks of contemplating her birthday cake decoration request of "balloons", I asked her if there was ANYTHING else she could think of that she would like to put on her cake.

Emma- "I already told you, I want bah-loooons."

Me- "Yeah, I know, but I just can't figure out how to make balloons on your cake that look nice." ( and that don't look like multicolored spermatozoa, I thought to myself wryly)

Emma- "If you don't put bah-loons on my birthday cake, I'm not going to be happy."

Me- My mouth drops open in shock,"Wha?.... Errr, what did you just say?"

Emma- "I SAID, if you don't put bah-loooons on my cake............ I'm not going to be happy with you."

Me- "Pffffffffffffffffffffft, bahahahahahahaha! We'll I don't know what to tell you. Can't you think of anything, ANYTHING else?"

Emma- "Ohhhhh...," she sighs in disgust, "I guess pwincesses."


I have only one thing to say:


Thank God for little princesses. They make life more.... Oh, I don't know. Just more. ;)


UPDATE:

Just minutes after posting this, i washed up Emma after she finished her pancakes and eggs. In the kitchen, she says," I said last night if you don't put bah-looons on my cake.... I'm going to be sad."

I laugh while washing her hands,"I thought you said princesses would be OK."

"yeah," she says in a monotone,"that's ok."

I laugh some more, "You don't sound very convinced."

Ai-yi-yi.

Glamour, Interrupted: a book review

I recently got the opportunity to choose from a wide assortment of books at Collins, and I jumped at the chance to read Glamour, Interrupted: How I Became the Best-Dressed Patient in Hollywood by Steven "Cojo" Cojocaru. I have been a fan of his for a while and have always loved watching him on Entertainment Tonight or during Red Carpet events. His particular style of wit while critiquing the rich and famous is chicken soup for my sarcastic soul. In short, I feel a certain camaraderie. ;)

Cojo's book is filled with humor and sarcasm, and as I read his book I realized that I'm not sure that I could even be that upbeat if I had gone through what he did. In his book he talks about the exact moments he suspected serious health problems, later becoming diagnosed with a life threatening kidney disease, and his ongoing struggle to stay afloat in a cold and not so sterile world of kidney transplants and dialysis.

Steven's book chronicles his struggles and triumphs, and eventually acceptance that life isn't perfect no matter how hard you work to make it appear that way. Through his illness, Steven learns what real unconditional love is in the form of friends, fans, and family and he puts a very human face to kidney disease in spite of his fame and celebrity.

I applaud him for writing his story, and despite suffering so much, being able to do it in a way that is so honest and open... and so very, very funny.

I really enjoyed reading Steven Cojocaru's book and I would recommend it to anyone, especially fans and anyone who has hit rock bottom and thought that there was no way up; his book clearly proves that you can overcome with the love and support of the ones around you.

Glamour, Interrupted is scheduled for release January 22nd, 2008. You can click the links for more info.


*** All the book reviews done for HarperCollins or Collins Publishing (an Imprint of HarperCollins Publishing) are done with one stipulation- I receive the book for free and read it. If I like it, I review it on my blog. These are not paid reviews per se, except for receiving the book.***

Help me!

This Mary mert reporting from underneath 6 inches of freshly fallen snow in Eastern Iowa. You may have been wondering where I have been for the last week, and I am about to tell you harrowing tales, so put the kiddies in another room folks.

My captors forced me to do manual labor last night, in which I was made to go out in the cold in the dark and press together large clumps of snow. My dinner was stolen from me and placed on the smallest of the clumps, as were the buttons on my pants. Notice the gleeful smiles. Oh how they love to torture me!
I have just now dug my way out of a snow tunnel and am making my escape back into the house where I must then be interrogated, most likely with questions such as " Where is my HOT COCOA!", and "Why are there only 8 marshmallows and not 10?"

You may have been wondering why I haven't posted in a while, and I'll be honest. My captors have been keeping me under lock and key and only allowing me small meals in between making their meals.

About 4 days before Christmas I stayed up all hours of the night making ginger bread for the the tyrannical dictators that are my captors. "Gingerbread, when will you make the gingerbread!?!" We spent the next day putting together a miniature replica of this house they hold me in, but mostly they gorged themselves on chocolates and candies.


Most recently they had me scrubbing their toilets on Christmas Eve. Though I wouldn't wish this fate on anyone, I am just glad to be alive. My cell mate is severely ill, he is coughing and shivering and luckily they aren't quite as hard on him... but they do make him sit for hours playing a Winnie The Pooh video game, the same game they have forced him to play for months now. They are slowly breaking him down mentally I think, with constant images of rotund yellow bears and tiny pink piglets. Oh the horror.

On Christmas I got up at the crack o' to make the angry mob breakfast of their traditional holiday coffee cake, then was forced to endure over an hour of the sound of ripping paper and shrieking.

"High School Musical 2!"
"Elmo!"

"More High School Musical 2!"

"Dora!"

"Even MORE High School Musical 2!"



Heh, heh... little do they know, I have my own tricks! Subliminal auditory suggestions via Disney music. ;)

Today my captors plan to have me hauling more clumps of snow in the cold, hopefully after I have had at least one cup of coffee. Stay tunes for more messages from the snowy trenches... I hope I last until the New Year.

(Not so) Wordless Wednesday- Me on a good day ;)

Make your own!

My poor kid

Anna has had a slight case of walking pneumonia, which was sandwiched between 2 different colds. She just got rid of her cough after being sick for almost a month, and now?

A fever of 104.4 with nausea and vomiting. Last nigh she woke me up after 3 am and said her stomach hurt and she felt like she was going to barf. Boy did she ever! She went with her dad to the emergency room to make sure it wasn't anything serious.


The ER doc asked her routine questions like if she had trouble going poop. She said no, and that she had gone yesterday morning.


He then asked her if she had trouble peeing. John said she looked over with a look that was somewhere in between this:
and this:
...with one raised eyebrow, and whispered sarcastically while rolling her eyes, "That's a silly question."

My girl, she may have lost her sense of humor, but never her sense of sarcasm. ;)

You heard it here first!

I just read this blog post on AOL giving information to the authorities, and for the record I feel comfortable with this. I think if you find that one person is researching such content that it is at least worth looking into...

Except if it comes to me. Just for the record, Federal Bureau of Investigations, the reason why you or Google might have noticed me trolling your site is because I am writing a book for NaNoWriMo. Honestly.

Also, my google searches for: Barrett M107 Sniper Rifles, Glocks, Military Surplus, hit man lingo, FBI locations in California, ways to say that someone has been killed, how long does it take to bleed out from a groin wound, female assassins, military bases and addresses in southern California, search warrants etc, etc, etc...

these are just searches I am doing for my novel. By the way, besides aving one FBI character that is kind of a slob, I promise that all of the other Bureau characters are written with the utmost reverence and taste.

I promise you that the only thing I'm planning on murdering besides the English language, is ironically a character named English. Besides I love my family and friends. The ones I don't like are hardly worth the trouble.

So Google and Blogger (who is owned by Google), before you turn me in to the feds check out my other blog where my book currently resides... it's all there.

Nervously yours,
~mert

Life here with the Wee Folk

Here in my household, imaginations soar! Recently, Emma now has unhampered access to her butt region since she is wearing her big girl panties. Imagine my surprise 2 days ago when she announced while holding up one of her dress up necklaces,"I put this in my butt crack!"

Fantastic.

I have often impressed my family with my ability to pick things up with my toes. This morning Emma impressed me by showing me that panties can go in the butt crack. No, I'm not talking about a wedgie either. What I am saying is that instead of putting her panties OVER her butt crack, she stood with her undies only in her butt crack. She was a proud as a peacock.

"Ummm, I've spent most of my adult life trying to avoid just that. How about we put your panties where they belong, over your bum. Let's not put anything else in there, OK?

Now I know the first place I'm going to look the next time I lose my keys. ;)


Anna has quite the imagination, too! And I am proud to say it does NOT involve her butt crack. Last night she showed John and I a bracelet that a boy in class had made her.

"I'm guessing it's too soon to have a boyfriend."

"Err, yeah. Too soon," I stammer.

"He says he wants to be my boyfriend."

"That's nice honey, no boyfriends yet, OK? Hey... isn't he the kid that has gotten you into trouble like three times now?"

She's only 6 1/2 and she already likes the "bad boy" type. Terrific.

This morning I asked her as she put her new purple bead bracelet on,"Do you think he's cute?"

"Kinda."

"So he wants to be your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he told Kayla that he does, and she told me. It's like he sent me an invisible love note."

Awwww! She's a romantic! She must get that from.... somebody. That's my girl. Romantic, dramatic and imaginative, not to mention already considered girl friend material.

I can barely contain my joy.

How many women could use this?

There is a new addiction out there in lala land... and it's name is CRACKBOX! Signs and symptoms of CRACKBOX addiction may include (but are not limited to) :

• Sitting for hours staring at a television screen with a controller in hand- meanwhile the kids toilet paper the house, shave the cat and light each other on fire.
• Dinner turns cold and possibly goes uneaten.
• The CRACKBOX-head eats 1.45 bowls of cereal 6 hours after dinner was thrown into the trash.
• Any interruptions is game play is responded to with a "Huh?", but the CRACKBOX-head's glazed eyes never leave the screen.
• Spending hours playing online and talking to some guy in Jersey named XXX_Bonecrusher_XXX.
• All conversations with the CRACKBOX-head during brief periods of rest (for gamer's thumb) lead back to playing the game.

The XBOX Patch comes in 2 sizes and are easy to use. Print out the appropriate size, cut out and attach double sided tape.

1. The "My wife still loves me enough to let me play, as long as I spend some time with the kids" Patch. For size #1, apply to shoulder, gluteus, or abdomen with a firm slap.
2. And The "I've forgotten my kid's names, and my wife won't sleep with me anymore" Super Patch. For size #2, apply directly to forehead, tack in pace with the heel of your husband's work shoe as needed.

The XBOX 360 Patch... it's just swell! Get yours today!

Side effects* may include: swelling and tenderness to the shoulder, buttocks or abdomen; redness and tenderness to the forehead, and brief loss of consciousness.


*Almost Somewhat Positive and it's author are not liable or responsible for any side effects should you wish to use this product.

My Life

... Just flashed before my eyes! In typical Mert-Yes, I am clutz (and dork)- fashion, I was coming downstairs just a minute ago and my left foot got caught in the right leg of sweat pants, causing me to thud and bang down the stairs. Luckily I broke my fall with my left middle finger and right ankle and the closet door in front of me.

Did I mention I'm a dork?

My aunt sent this to me today. I'm trying to eat more healthy and feed my family right, so this is food for thought. Scroll down past the image to read more.

"Yesterday I went to the doctor for my yearly physical. My blood pressure was high, my cholesterol was high, I'd gained some weight, and I didn't feel so hot.

My doctor said eating right doesn't have to be complicated and it would solve my physical problems. He said just think in colors; Fill your plate with bright colors; greens, yellows, reds, etc.

I went right home and ate an entire bowl of M&M's and sure enough, I felt better immediately. I never knew eating right could be so easy."

I think considering my first aid kit, this is pretty appropriate. ;)

And to round the day off, let's throw in an Anna-ism, shall we? This morning we were arguing whether or not her choice of belt was 'en vogue", which now I realize is just silly. I mean seriously. Dork much? Anywhoo, Anna was mad at me because of this and the fact that I yanked a couple of knots while combing her hair. When her dad came back in from running out to buy milk she said this to him.

"It's all your for marrying HER." She just doesn't know how many times I have said this to the MISU.

This just in: Boobs

Boobs. You can't go anywhere without people talking about boobs anymore. Whats' the big deal anyway?

Here's the deal.

I'm a little afraid to visit Myspace and Facebook now. Heaven forbid we should see a naked breast, this country is not obsessed with body parts at all. *rolls eyes*That being said, I don't understand why anyone would want to find over 2 million links to this :

OR this:

My opinion? Boobs should be kept locked up and out of sight. ;) They hold mysterious powers over men and they make men AND children drool. A boob can be very dangerous, you know...they can be lethal. Prime example?

Click here if you dare. This boob should be locked up for good.


Almost Somewhat Positive: All the sarcasm and flavor of other blogs, none of the calories. :)

For more posted debates about nekkid boobies, idiocy and hypocrisy go to Suburban Oblivion.

Irk me. Go ahead, make my day.

Just a short note to the people who tend to ignore the rules of polite society (that means YOU MIL):

1. When you repeatedly volunteer me because you are too lazy to do something yourself, that irks me.

2. This includes saving stuff for me or your son to do, and avoiding doing said things... until we are at your house. Let's say you have offered to let us take your car to 6 Flags on Sunday because your car is larger than ours, but you decide that the best time to clean out your car is the night before and after you have asked your son over for cake and ice cream. In the middle of a party.

3. And then volunteer me to take pictures at your party, AND to put flea medicine on your cat since I happen to be sitting down- and obviously with nothing better to do than enjoy a visit with family I haven't seen in a while. Sure, let me get right on that... it's not like I was in the middle of a conversation or anything.

4. On that note... It is NOT polite to scream my name at the top of your lungs and out through your nasal passages from across your apartment because YOU need to volunteer me for something else. I refuse to assist you in this case and will hold firm my ground if this should ever happen again. I'm not 8 years old and refuse to be summoned this way ever again.

5. Interrupting a conversation to insert random anecdotes about your favorite child, which is usually not even close to being a tangent to the current conversation... well it's rude and just a little bit nuts. Having lived with my own mother for 18 years,I know a little... just a smidge about nuts.

6. Whispering behind a hand about someone that is standing just feet away from you, all the while staring at them... that was cute I'm sure when you were 5. Seeing as you have 56 more years of life experience, I would expect that a person of your age would realize, cute? Not so much.

7. Your younger son is 37 years old, he can go buy beer if he wants. He's a big boy. And no, he doesn't need your permission after you telling him that he doesn't really need a beer. I can guarantee you that ironically, one WOULD need a beer in this situation- especially since you regularly keep wine in your fridge and you are being a HUGE hypocrite.

8. Oh, one more thing... it's not cute or EVER FREAKING funny to call an innocent child- let's say for example YOUR GRANDCHILD- fat or chubby, not even if you're *air quote* being funny or *air quote* just joking around. Not even when you yourself have lost every square inch of your fat rear and you don't have the slightest chance of being the slightest bit hypocritical, will it EVER be OK. *And especially not since you are annoyed with your innocent grand daughter because you took the liberty of buying her shirts without her being present, and are annoyed because the shirts you bought are too small and now you have to take your lazy carcass back to the store to return them.* The next time you do that (which would be -oh , lets say - incident #21), I will have to resort to such violence as punching you square in the face. I'll punch first and ask questions later because I have first hand knowledge of how damaging that can be to a child, and how they will carry it with them for the rest of their lives- no matter what weight they are.

OK, I wont really punch you BUT I will merely envision myself doing so as I drag your sorry butt into the kitchen and explain all of this to you, and while you stand there telling me why you think it's no big deal. I will refrain from bodily harm, but I may have to resort to reducing you to tears as I explain that you will not be welcome in this home unless you can stop being a self centered, self serving, and condescending idiot to your grand child.

All that stuff I wrote above? Yeah, don't do that. It annoys me.

I'm glad we had this talk, only I know it wont go as well when i actually have to tell you all of this because

We interrupt regular programming for a word from our sponsor: Sarcasm

The MISU treated us to some Pizza Hut last night so that we could all get our grease fix for the week. You know you have a problem when your toddler sucks on a french fry until it's nothing but a salt-less blob of starch. Then discards it for another. We are trying to eat better... but baby steps people.

But I digress. On the way to Pizza Hut, we engaged in light hearted banter as we are wont to do when seconds from quenching our "grease lust".

Anna: I was thinking that maybe we could-

Emma: Not gonna happen.

Anna: Emma! I was still talking!

Emma: Get oh-ber it.

I try to hide my amusement by doing the "I'm pressing my lips together to [attempt to] hide the fact that I am laughing on the inside" face.

MISU, wearing an accusatory yet wry smile, while looking at his beloved (that would be me): Thank you. Thank you SO much for that.


Oh, yeah. Sarcasm IS our regular programming. Silly me. ;)