Wednesday, September 26, 2012


The season changed, so I stopped by to say hello. Things are still ever so much as they always are, filled with people growing fatter then taller, out of their jeans and too big for their britches. There is schooling, canning, bread-making, pie baking, and lots of working. 

And let me not forget the very exciting things, like paying the (HUGE and TOTALLY INAPPROPRIATELY IRRESPONSIBLE) fine on my library card, and being allowed to, once again, borrow books from the library. The short people are ecstatic. So is the library.


I was knitting in church last night. I knit so I don't chew my fingernails to bloody stumps. Bloody stumps are so unattractive, and knitting is so very attractive, so I thought I had found a suitable alternative to the bloody stump situation. Alas, my knitting was deemed Quite Grievous by the preacher, so much, in fact, that he called me out in front of the congregation. "I'm glad I have your attention now," he boomed. "You had my attention all along," I retorted, "I just ran out of yarn."

Flip comment brought further pastoral consternation and giggles from the peanut gallery. Explanation of, and apology for the Theory of Bloody Stumpage to the preacher did nothing to redeem me. Alas.


Elliott has rewritten the lyrics to "Call Me Maybe". Highlights include this gem:
dis is crazy
here's Grandma's number
call her later
Kid has a future in songwriting. His other hit is the one-line-wonder I'm Not Going Home. We hear it more than most people hear Carly Rae and Gotye. Way more. 


In a really long and drawn out series of bad decisions, one of my children told me that my name should really be Ass Pamela, or better yet, Ass Aardvark. Because nothing makes soap taste worse than poorly-timed alliteration. At least, I imagine that nothing could make soap taste any worse than it tastes despite my negligible knowledge of soap tastes. The Mister tried it and said that pomegranate-orange goat's milk soap was not much of a punishment, but it has been nearly a week, and The Perp hasn't referred to me as an Ass Aardvark again, so maybe it was effective. We'll see.


Anything exciting in your neck of the woods?


  1. Nothing big here. Just polishing the weapons. What's the pastor's address, again?

  2. Now, now. My MIL said that's how he banters. Stand down, warrior. :)

  3. Must try the soap technique. My little one is getting far too sassy for my taste. She is loving school though so that's a biggie.

  4. Sass is okay when it's funny. Keep the soap in the shower . . .

  5. I am oh so glad to read a Dayton Time blog post.
    Keep em comin'

  6. I had my mouth washed out lots as a kid. Nothing is as bad as original softsoap, pumped out into your (chainsmoking) mother's hand and shoved down your throat and up your nose.
    At age 15.

    Also, we had to bite down and it was scraped across our teeth and then we had to sit on the couch for 20 minutes.

    I don't know if it was effective (I'm guessing not for me because it happened A LOT) but every time my mom asked me to get her a beer I spit in it as retaliation.

    Wait, what is this post about?
    Oh right. NOT about my issues.


talk to me, people. because you know i get all giddy when you do.