Friday Concoction

Wednesday afternoon we got some news that gave us a little glimmer of hope. A little light at the end of the house-selling tunnel. An older couple was very interested and very eager to move and Hoo-Boy! They were going to do a final look-through yesterday evening. So we cleaned the toilets and sprayed down furniture and hid giant mounds of dirty stuff under Pooey's crib. The interested old folks took a good long look and then shat all over us and dressed us in clothing one size too small. DAMMIT! Actually, they just haven't called back, but it sure feels as if I've been shat on. The one-size-too-small part is my own fault, because I really like these pants and I'm occasionally too lazy to try stuff on at Old Navy.

In order to move myself away from the not-ringing telephone I took the kids to IHOP for breakfast. Or, I should say, speed. Madeleine ordered a pancake off the kids' menu. An innocuous, harmless circle of carbs, right? Who in the hell decided to make a kids' pancake out of chocolate batter, with chocolate chunks melted in it, covered in whipped cream and coated on top with more chocolate chips? WHO DID THIS TO ME?? The only bright spot was the two marasheeno (whatever) cherries - you know, fruit! - which Madeleine promptly swept off and stuck in Quinn's mouth. He sampled and deemed them foul and spat them all over my face and French Toast. And now Madeleine is mowing the lawn and churning butter. And Quinn's eating soap. But it's organic!

Links and Asundry
- I found this for Madeleine (read: Jim) the other day and now we're waiting anxiously for its arrival. And then I'll shoot myself. Duh.
- My secret crush. Because nothing says virile like tiny, painstakenly painted figurines.
- Why does organic food have to be so hard to open? I mean, I'm paying an extra $3 for this bag of pretzels already, can't you guys hike up the price another fiddy cents so I can pull the bag open instead of resorting to teeth and corkscrews?
- I rented Hustle and Flow the other night. I only watched about 20 minutes because that's my life, but I was amazed by Terrence Howard's performance. And now I can't stop singing It's Hard Out There for a Mommy...
- Aaaannndd for the final time a-waster... It's a little wiggly Waldo. Dude gets around. That Rwanda one made me tear up a little, but a teeny-tiny part of me is still thinking this guy is just a tad dorky.
- That t-shirt from a couple days ago? Oscar the Grouch, and for some reason it says Sunset Blvd. at the bottom. And no, we're not thinking about moving back to Portland. I was just sad to leave after our vacation and felt all maudlin and homesick when I wrote that last post about it.
- You want to know the sign of bad acting? THE sign (in case you're having trouble deciding... hmm Keanu Reeves or Marlon Brando .... hmm yelling Pacino or actor Pacino...). The sign is when the individual is staring into anothers actor's eyes. The good actors? Just stare. And hey, maybe they even look away! The bad actors? Do that back-and-forth eye movement thing that makes it seem like their looking from one eye to the other in deep concentration. Trying to decide... trying to decipher... trying to gleen... ummm... which eye to look at? Who does that? Nobody. Just bad actors! Now you know.

My scanner's still packed up in a storage unit, so in lieu of Then 'n' Now let's do some random pics...


Look how excited Debbie was to meet me! (You shoulda seen my pants.)




Here's what the new owner did to our yard in Portland. See that nasty-ass raised bed? Used to be a gorgeous Japanese Maple surrounded by hosta and herbs, with a large decorative rock and some thyme groundcover creeping around. It's just not right.




This guy spoke no English and was sporting a shiny row of gold teeth. He may or may not have had some suspicious facial tattoos as well. But he was dying to hold Quinn.




Madeleine's waiting for some cannibal sparrow to come take her chicken nugget bait and be her BFF.




Dappled baby.