might as well just move along
September 26, 2006
I have nothing.
Picture me sitting here twiddling my thumbs, scratching my head, and letting out big long sighs.
“Do you have anything funny to say?” I ask the children. But they just look at me.
“C’mon, got anything for me? Anything at all?” I probe.
When the oil man came to deliver our liquid gold, I went outside to talk with him. Hoping there would be something interesting to write about the encounter. Or else it would spark some idea. But no. He is perfectly nice and gracious and he hopes that there is a mild winter also.
I came inside and got a pork loin roast into the crock pot following a recipe in a new cookbook I just got in the mail to review. But, on further inspection, like actually reading the recipe, I realized that I was missing some of the vital ingredients of the recipe. Like the oranges, onions, and dry mustard. I substituted in pineapples. Who knows how it will be. But, looking on the bright side at least I have dinner cooking already, so what if it is inedible. It’s not like most of the kids were going to eat it anyway. Might as well give them a reason to reject it.
I don’t have the best track record for this substituting ingredients, if you have been reading long enough to remember this post.
I should end this now before I tell you that it is 12:30 in the afternoon and I am still wearing pajama bottoms, a t-shirt and no bra, and my hair is all tied up in a pony tail that looks like I slept in it. My throat is sore from reading out loud all morning and not from yelling, “For crying out loud stop bickering over the duplos or I will open the front door, toss them out, and then run them over with my car for good measure.”
And yes I did go outside and talk to the oil man dressed like this. Me so sexy. So while I got no blog fodder out of the encounter, if he has a blog, I am sure he would write about me under the category of you can not believe how these housewives let themselves go.
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