This is not a two-way street. It's a 6 lane one-way.

We're going to have a big Mothers' Day bbq on Saturday with a bunch of friends and Jim's Family. I wanted to do it on The Day Designated By Hallmark, but apparently Jim's Family is already gathering at the appointed place and at the appointed time on that day. When I was inviting a friend on the phone last night, I mentioned this scheduling quandry and said, in a not-unkind voice, that Jim's Family treats Mothers' Day like Easter. And he got mad. And defensive. And stormed off and banged some of the pots around the sink as he was cleaning up the dinner dishes. Um, honey, did I buy you that estrogen-flavored Tom's of Maine toothpaste on accident? I meant to get Cinnamint - sorry.

I know I was all Sheesh! Boys! a couple posts ago, but Sheesh! Boys! and their mommy-attachment! Or is it just my Boy? If Jim wants to make fun of my family, I happily join in. Ha-ha isn't my mom crazy for breaking all of our kitchen appliances when she comes to visit (remember the coffee maker/oven drawer/toaster, Mom?). Har-har, Damon was such an asshole when he first got that job where he was boss of everyone. Hee-hee Carson is the slowest person on earth and may have some kind of getting-dressed-in-a-timely-fashion disorder. But woe-is-me if I even question his parents' use of margarine in place of butter for dunking crab legs. Woe. (I know, MARGARINE?? I may have spoke of this already, but I'm still stunned.)

Am I brainwashing the baby already? Is he already conditioned to change the subject if it comes up that I let him fall off the bed three times. Well wait a minute... maybe that isn't such a bad thing.

Update: Oh I forgot - lookee, I got my haircut! It's short and sticky-uppy. Looks a little like wet grass after it's been stepped on, normally. It's especially sticky-uppy in this picture because I've been writing, and I'm a hair fiddler when I'm thinking. You should see the grease-pile on my head after a big test. You could fry an egg. If my head was really hot.