Tales of a Shoebox Princess

Why is it AWESOME Friday? Ten reasons: 1. No school for the kids, which means I get shower and tub scrubbed, deck doors washed, and kitchen window washed. 2. I planned ahead for Fake Child's presence and had an Easter project ready to go, an egg hunt planned, and several coloring sheets ready. I am an awesome babysitter today (but only today). I even let FC smooch me on the lips, which normally I don't even do to the kids. I am very non-demonstrative. 3. Matt did the actual work for the egg hunt: plastic egg candy fillage and hiding of the eggs OUTSIDE! 4. It's breezy yet warm and I can wear shorts! (edited to add: it's raining! We need the rain) 5. I'm halfway through my college class! 9/18 assignments submitted! I'd have more but I am waiting for one set to get graded before I submit the next set (I submit three assignments at a time) 6. I'm all set for tomorrow's egg hunt at Grandma's! Special eggs for the big kids have been painted and fille...

J'aime lécher des chats. Je cultive des ananas sous le lit. Je veux vivre dans une chaussure avec un grand chien. Je chante le corps électrique. J'ai un tapis fait de cheveux arrières tissés. Je mange des livres et lisez la viande. Appréciez le jour d'imbécile d'avril.

I haven't done a retro post in a while. I looked at my photo albums (back in the day when I used actual film and had the pictures printed up and then I stuck them in albums) and pulled one out to fish around for any usable pictures. I looked through the album and thought, "These aren't retro." But they are quickly approaching retrohood. The photos are nearly eight years old and as far as the two subjects are concerned, they are even older than that (and possibly never really happened at all). The first one is OJ asleep with a beanie baby on his chest. I think beanie babies are like cats; this one is presumably trying to suck OJ's soul from him as he sleeps. It's even got its tongue out, drooling in anticipation of owning OJ's soul. By the way, that quilt is now approaching threadbare-hood (threadbareness? threadbarity? It's gettin' old). And here is OJ in his "creative sleep" mode. Who on earth would willingly sleep like this? He has ...

And a legend is born, a legend of a creature that lives among the corralled carts at the Shako Mart du Wal. The creature is stealthy, but even so, he must come up for air every few hours. He creeps among the wheels of the carts, gathering leftover donuts and forgotten cookies for sustenance. In order to keep himself hydrated, he licks wet carts after rain showers. Because he lives mostly under carts, he cannot tolerate bright sunlight; he must scavenge for lost sunglasses among the returned carts. He is The Creature of the Cart Corral.

I'm sprouting wheat kernels. Last week, I had a project for Fake Child--growing wheat grass. She enjoyed spreading the seeds on the dirt and misting them to keep them wet. (My kids have gotten into the fun of it too. I'll catch OJ misting the seeds and Matt will ask if he can do it too) The grass is now close to two inches high. When the seeds had just sprouted, I got a sudden, daring (as daring as I get these days) urge to eat one. I didn't even rinse it off. I just popped it into my mouth. I liked the texture. I ate a few more. I let Fake Child eat a few too. I made OJ eat one. Now I am sprouting some wheat for my own eating pleasure. Mom gave me a sieve-type lid for a Mason jar specifically for sprouting and I popped that on a clean jar and in three days, I should have salad fixings of wheat sprouts! I could also make bread but I will save that experiment for later.

First, I post this bad poem for Jenni. I call it "Forty-one." No reason. (unless Jenni wants to admit to her age. Otherwise, I just picked the number out of a hat) It is your birthday, your birthday so fun, A day to rejoice as you turn forty-one. The play life is over, the real life begins You’ll have much to enjoy, you’ll wish you were twins. So smile at the day, and to the uglies that frown On your day, say, “Scram, I’ve no time to be down! Put on your pink shoes, your bangles and rings, Don your prettiest clothes and spread wide your wings. Dance to the music, drink deep from the font Getting older is fun! You can do what you want. You can say what you feel, there is no one to nag, Or lecture or reprimand, or say, “Scalliwag!” There is freedom in forties, and fifties and on, The days of being held back have up and have gone. So get on getting happy! Waste not your time! The best years are ahead, your life onward, sublime! Bad poetry, we love thee! I hope you enjoyed i...

Jim and Hayley get home tonight. Yesterday was a bit of a doozy for them (just a bit. Like maybe just the first "o" of doozy). They got stuck for two hours on I 80 when it closed because of a giant wreck. After several hours of sitting in the car, and upon the advice of someone within cell-phone distance who had access to a computer, the internet, and thus the Wyoming DOT website, (i.e. ME) they got the heck out of Dodge (aka Bitter Creek Exit at mile marker 111.5) and drove back to Rock Springs and headed north on some backwater Wyoming country highway to go up through Casper and into South Dakota. Where they are now. And let me tell you, the only thing more boring than driving through Wyoming on I 80 is looking at pictures of vehicles driving on I 80 on the semi-live camera shots on the Wyoming DOT website. (rim shot. Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week) Anyway, on to more important matters. Ten things I was able to do while Jim was gone: 1. Sleep with th...