Sometimes, though, when I’m bein’ all growed up over here I forget the simplest of truths about my faith.

Fortunately, Logan is here to remind me.

“we have been informed through our global intelligence monitoring network that the sum of $10.500, 000.00, has been released from a bank in africa bearing your name as the beneficiary without dist certificate to clear your name and fund from every terrorist or drug or money laundering activities”

Guess what number one is.

Yep, it’s “juke williams”.

Remember him?

What a guy.

Kids, I hate to have to be the one to break this to you…but…

There is no fecking ‘Juke Williams’, no bazillion dollars/dubloons/kittens just waiting for you to come and claim them.  Well, there may be a bazillion kitties, but I fail to see how that would make you rich.  That would make your house smell like a giant litterbox, and the kibble bill would be astronomical.

There is no free iPad/cell phone/rhinestone tiara/lifetime pizza giveaway, either.

Deal with it.

Hugs,

awesomesauciness, Crusher of Dreams and;

Dasher of Hopes

Until this…………….

And I laughed till I cried.

Then I formed a band.

Shit just got real.

I’m looking forward to the day when there’s a cap and gown ceremony for kids who go from bottle to sippy cup, because we just don’t praise these little germ factories enough.  But, that’s another rant for another day.

At the graduation, each little white gown and cap festooned 4 or 5-yr. old stands on stage, announces their name and says what they want to be when they grow up.

There were the usual aspirations – doctor, fireman, veterinarian, etc.

And the usual “cute” ones – fairy, princess, fairy princess, and pop star.

And then there was ‘Travis’ who told us all that when he grows up he wants to be……………………a dog.  Personally, I think Travis is brilliant…and right on.

From my local IT professional last week, I received this text on the day I was expecting him to come to the office to work on some computers.

“won’t be there today…i’m six”

To which I (logically) replied.

“okay, hope you get older soon”

And then, over the weekend, from baby girl I get this lovely autocorrect:

“we want the walk mount”

“*wall”

“the tv walk mount”

“UGH! *wall”

“Stupid autocorrect”

“wins everything”

“OMG”

“*everytime”

By the end of this I could not read the screen through the tears.

And, I think I peed my pants a little.

It. Was. Aardvark. Awkward. *dammit* Awesome.

ME: So, how was your camping trip with the family?

BG: Awesome! It was SO much fun!

ME: Cool.

BG: Except for the first night, when MJ projectile vomited everything everywhere and AJ wouldn’t go to sleep and cried all night. But other than that it was great!

(MJ is 5, AJ is 1)

ME: Eww…and on a camping trip, too! So, what did you do with all the stuff she puked on?

BG: Put it in a trash bag and then in the car.

ME: Bet it smelled *great* by the time you got home.

BG: I don’t know, it went right in the trash.  Do you know how disgusting vomit smells? Yeah, try that in an enclosed space like a small tent.  I thought I was going to puke, too.

ME: What caused it?

BG: I dunno.  Coulda been the McNuggets, or maybe the s’mores.   You know how sensitive her tummy is.

ME: Yeah. So what all did you do?

BG:  There were a lot of hiking trails and we found a cave.  It was really beautiful.

ME: Did you get that baby backpack to use?

BG: No, it was like $200.  I wish we had though, because we took the jogging stroller and the trail was full of rocks so hubby had to carry the stroller most of the way and I had to carry AJ.   And she kept crying because she wanted to get down and eat the rocks, dirt, pretty much everything.

ME:  And this was the first night/day?

BG: Yep.  The second night we were FREEEEZING.  It was like 40 degrees, but I swear it felt like 4.  And AJ wouldn’t sleep, and MJ was cold and I was wearing everything I brought and I was still shivering.  So, I didn’t get any sleep.

ME: Sheesh.

BG: But, other than that it was great and on the way home MJ said it was so much fun and we should do it again.

ME: And?

BG: Well, mom, it’s been three years since the last camping trip and now I remember why.  I’m sure, once the trauma fades from memory, we’ll do it again.

ME:  Ha! Ha!

BG: Oh, and did you see the picture I posted on Facebook of the GIGANTIC tarantula in the bathroom?

ME: Uh..no…

Winter will not leave Texas, and despite the blazing sun I’m cold.

All. The. Time.

I have a million things I need to do, and zero interest in most of them.

I tried yard work, and jacked-up my already fecked-up-beyond-belief back.

Again.

So, I guess I do have something to post about.  It’s just that I’m posting about whiny stuff.

Alrighty, then.

Move along.

Nothing to see here.

I see no reason to spend 4 years in college to predict weather in Texas.  This explains it perfectly.

I am convinced my house is haunted.

The latest evidence is presented here for your entertainment:

We have cable television.  We have a remote controller for the cable television.  We use the remote to scroll through upcoming shows, and set reminders for the ones we want to watch.

Anyone who has cable/satellite you can skip this part because you obviously know what I’m talking about. Y’all go have some cookies – they’re warm, right out of the oven – while I explain this to everyone else.

Everyone else – with me so far?

Okay, we set a reminder the other day so that when “Ironman” came on, a small pop-up comes up on the television screen to let us know it’s on.  If you mash the “OK” button on the remote, the television will magically switch the channel to the reminder channel and voila! you are watching “Ironman” (or whatever you set a reminder for).

Okay, those of you who went out for cookies come back in here and leave some for the rest of us!

Now, here’s where things get weird.

The reminder for “Ironman” came up as I was in the kitchen and hubby was in the office.  Neither of us was within 10 feet of the remote when the channel suddenly changed on its own, and “Ironman” began to play.

We spent the next ten minutes alternately blaming each other for changing the channel and refusing to admit it, and staring at each other wide-eyed while remarking how very weird that was.

I finally gave up and said, “Very funny, Ralph (the name I chose to give our poltergeist), but don’t do it again.”

My house is haunted, y’all.