How do they make me?

One of my children asked me once, "does it hurt when they make you?" When you're in the thick of in-fighting with your siblings, or worrying about where your next snack comes from, how do you even think to ask that question? Consider for a second the things a small child may have seen being made. An assembly line churning and freezing ice cream at the Ben & Jerry's Factory, or maybe they witnessed horseshoes being shod or glass being blown at Sturbridge Village. Ouch! Both of those require hellish fire and some of it with pounding. No wonder...

See how menacing Ella looked in those early days?

Sick of you, sick of me

I took a look at some of my earlier blog drafts. When it comes to doling out daily doses of punishment, my puppy isn't quite as unrelenting today as she was in August.

What can I say, pneumonia and a new labrador puppy combine for a cocktail without FDA approval. Ella, please take Aidan's leg out of your mouth. What began as an ordinary summer has turned into a battle of wits. I fight my dog for alpha status with one hand, and nurse my squatter of a cough with the other. When the doctor said I had pneumonia, my ever-present cough and pathetic show of frailty finally had scope. I spent my days sighing, crying, and cursing. When I felt brave, I would escape to walk the dog only to have her beat the crap out of me all the way home. It's a good show over here on Carriage Drive, watching me in all manner of embarrassment trying out some new training technique or another on the front lawn with the dog. Today I discovered that if I spray my hand with diluted white vinegar and shove it in the dog's face, she'll start to sneeze. Note to self, buy more vinegar.

Where is the Isle of Me?

Nothing gets you focused on the right stuff - yourself that is - like the promise of a new pair of shoes. It doesn't take much when you are 5 (or 50). Last night during a trip to Marshalls, the greatest store in the world, my girls and I were there to cruise the shoe department. All business as usual in a retail setting, looking for bargains and nothing less, I was whipping up and down those aisles when I heard 5 year-old Nora (audibly frustrated) say, "Where is the aisle of me?" Well I've been asking that same question for forty-one years. I heard that the folks from Lost may have found it once, but that was just a rumor.

Laughing at nothing

If a housewife laughs at her own joke and no one is around to hear it, is it funny? No, really, I need to know. And yes, I did just call myself a housewife.

My daughter is sitting beside me and just asked, "do other people think your blog is funny?" "Of course", I couldn't get the words out fast enough. By the way, if anyone is wondering why I've been writing again, I decided that I had to change the way in which I approach this silly blog. For one thing, I'm writing during the day instead of at night while I'm still fresh. I'm also keeping the posts shorter and fretting less about them. Don't forget to leave a comment if the mood strikes. Thanks for reading.

Nora getting ready for work.

All in a day's work

When I played Moms yesterday with my kindergartner, she told me she might be quitting her job. I asked if she and her husband could make it without her salary, and she said, "oh yes, he makes a thousand dollars". I stared at her, choking back the laugh, when she added, "a day". "Oh", I smiled, "well that's a significant income, you guys would be fine if you were to quit."