Topic: Rambling much
... a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Two of them actually. Just thought I'd let you know.
It's Ladies' Night at the Big Fancy Casino! I'm feelin' lucky, punk. I am. We shall see.
I got up at 4:30 this morning. That sucked big time. I was nearly to the city of Tulsa before the sun came up. I like driving in the early morning like that, before the sun comes up. Don't know why really, I just do. I listened to my Maroon5 CD all the way to Tulsa and that was a definitely good thing. When we left the dentist's office I grabbed the case for John Mayer's Heavier Things, but silly me, I had left the actual CD in the kitchen CD player and had brought only the case. If I hadn't been driving I could've stared wistfully at him, but since I had to play Responsible Parent, I decided against that. I put in a CD of praise and worship songs and proceded to sing my little heart out. That lasted about 20 minutes and then Ab said, "Uh, Mom...can we listen to something ELSE puh-lease?" Don't know what her problem was - I was praisin' and worshippin'! I put in Rascal Flatts and we listened to them the rest of the way home. My morning was filled with music by a bunch of hot awesome guys and songs about an awesome Guy. Not to say God's not hot, but somehow I kinda feel weird sayin' God might be hot. ooh. Anyway...
Chandler crapped his pants this morning. AGH! He hasn't done that here in a LONG time, probably because the poor little guy just doesn't want to hear me retching and grumbling when I have to clean him up. Ough. 3 year old poop is entirely too close to adult poop and I just can't handle that. Poor guy. He felt really bad. When he gets up from his nap we're going to put on Big Boys. He seemed pretty excited about them earlier. We talked about how cool it was to wear them (Not that I've ever worn Big Boys - I am strictly a Big Girl wearer myself) while they ate lunch and he was ten kinds of excited. Then he crapped his pants and had to listen to me retch. I hope I didn't spoil the excitement for him.
Paul's splitting wood as I type. I offered to help, but he is really just not wanting me to help stack it! I do not understand him. Well, I guess I kinda do. I'm very particular about how things are done with my tasks and chores. There is a certain way that our washcloths must be folded and socks are numbered in my house. Yes, I number our socks. Yes, I realize I am weird. Anyway, I don't let him help with certain things around the house because he just doesn't understand how I want them done. So maybe he feels the same way about his wood stacking chore. Although, I'm not really sure I believe that. He slopasses everything he does, including the wood stacking. Maybe I'm an amateur and don't see the artistry of his wood stacking and that's why it always looks slopassed. Or maybe he doesn't want me to help because, as with the inside chores, I feel there is a certain way to do things. The last time we stacked wood I had all of the smaller logs near the door, mid-sized ones in the middle and the freaking giant Sequoyah trunks at the far end. I guess this didn't set well with the slopass, I mean artist.
I'm horny today. Yep, go ahead and stick that in the TMI file - I'll wait. There is a point though, as there sometimes is here in The Ramblings. I felt compelled to comment on this anomaly because it's so darn rare! My hormones are so off kilter that I haven't been randy since like 1995 or so. Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but only slight. This is kinda nice. Hmmm...
How funny that just as I was deciding on my next paragraph, that Derek felt compelled to comment on my post about the dead talking through my computer. I wholeheartedly agree with him, though. He said
"heh...Isn't the power of suggestion funny?
especially when it pertains to ghosts and such. Spooky.
(I liked the "boo" at the end, btw, Derek.)
Our minds do play powerful tricks on us. Our brains are easily tricked. Not to say I didn't hear something last night from my computer, but was it the dead talking? I don't know. Could've been an power surge, although I have a pretty hefty amount of surge protection behind there. Could've been any number of electronic impulses and noises that I've heard time and time again, but never paid attention to them. And it could've been dead Uncle Marmaduke trying to tell me where he hid his millions. In which case, Uncle Marmaduke, if you can read this while you're lurking around my computer, speak clearly and enunciate a little better next time, willya? You're abilites in communicating with the living need a little honing there, dude.