If Marcus had opposable thumbs (or any thumb at all), this is what his selfie would look like.
I am frequently told by my sons that Martha is “such a good girl.” So banking on these solid references, I decided not to shut Martha in the mudroom when I ran some errands. I came home to find a load of bread on the rug. Closer inspection showed a big hole in the bag. I went back into the kitchen to look at the counter top where, just this morning, TWO loaves of bread and a chocolate chip muffin had been. It was spotless. No doubt she used a Clorox wipe after she stole the baked goods.
I found the other, completely empty, bread bag in front of the sofa. No sign whatsoever of the muffin.
When confronted, she had the grace to look a little sheepish, although I’m pretty certain she blames me for not shutting her away from temptation because look what happens.
We went out to dinner last night with my parents. Before the food arrived, my dad hauled out his phone and announced, “I know how to selfie!”
He showed me a picture he took of himself - it was pretty cute. I asked him to text it to me so I could put it up here. We got distracted and he forgot, so I sent him a message on our ride home reminding him to send it. He wrote back, “I’ll take another. This one shows nose hairs. Dad.”
This morning he emailed me this. Looks nothing like him. Send me the nose hairs.
As I mentioned earlier, we are building a new house. And up until today, nothing about the process felt real. We’ve met with lots and lots of people and looked at lots and lots of products…but today the excavating crew came out to lay down some electric blankets to start heating the ground for digging. Now it feels real. If the blankets work, then I imagine excavating for the lower level begins this week.
Martha and Wally are excited too. Not for the house though. They are enjoying the huge snowbanks piled up by the excavators when they cleared snow off the site.
At 9 pm Sunday evening, The Senator says (in response to my command to go to bed), “Oh. I need black dress pants for a band concert tomorrow.”
"What?! What concert? And why didn’t you tell me this earlier?" This is paraphrasing.
Possibly trying to be helpful, Dave interjected, “Well, he did tell me around 2 this afternoon.”
"2 p.m.? When we would have had a chance to go to the mall?"
Realizing his tactical error, Dave hauled The Senator into our bedroom and fished out a pair of his dress pants and a belt. The end result looked a Shriner Clown gone bad.
"Didn’t I buy you some dress pants at the beginning of the year?"
"I didn’t see any in my closet."
So I go down to his closet. And find three pairs of dress pants, one of which is unequivocally black. I brought them back up stairs.
"Oh. I guess I didn’t see them." His closet is two feet deep and three feet wide and contains about twenty coat hangers. Makes me wonder how he finds his lunch when he sits down at a table.
The euphoria of having the correct clothes the night before a concert was tempered by the fact that he still had to borrow Dave’s shoes. I imagine by the time he graduates I will have mastered Back to School shopping.
And this concert? It turns out it was a competition among area high schools and held out of town. And he knew about it weeks ago. Next time he pulls a stunt like this I’m making him wear his pajamas.
Dave loves to cook. It’s a boon and a curse. The great food is balanced out by the fact that he has no self control when it comes to buying equipment or gadgets for his hobbies. When he went through his bread-making phase, he had to buy a specific bowl and wisk which set us back $150. That’s right. $150 to stir properly. I don’t even want to think about the bill for the Yoder smoker when he decided he needed to be a barbecue professional. Of course, we eat great food, but I always dread seeing a Chef’s catalog land in the mailbox.
Or the Chef’s box land on the back steps. UPS dropped off a box so heavy I had to unload it on the porch. (-18 degrees…thank you, dear).
Four cast iron skillets (because our current two aren’t enough?)
A mandolin slicer (guess I’ll give our other one to Goodwill)
A wok (because you should always have three woks in a house, even though only one can fit on the stove top at a time)
A brisket knife (it’s about two feet long - we have lots of drawer space that big)
Two stainless steel mixing bowls so large you could bathe a Rottweiler in them. (I’m sure they’ll fit right next to the brisket knife in some cupboard.)
As I looked over the packing list, I realized that the order was incomplete. We can look forward to the back-ordered panini grill arriving some time in the next couple of weeks.
To say I was upset would be a bit of an understatement. However, homemade pork fried rice goes a long way towards mollifying my bad mood.
Time to go dig out my stretchy pants.
Tonight was a first in the School Closing Notification game. I just received an automated call (as usual) letting me know that, “Due to the weather, Dassel-Cokato School are 2 hours late tomorrow…”
Two hours late is not unusual out here. Falling snow, sub-zero temps, driving rain, fog, teacher with indigestion…you name it, and we’ve delayed school for it. What was unusual was the rest of the message:
"…If you feel it is unsafe for your child to attend school, keep them home. Their absence will be excused. We may close it if is too windy."
What? I’m not sure if ‘too windy’ refers to outside breezes or the teacher with indigestion.
Wally is lobbying heavily for me to deem tomorrow UNSAFE and thereby earn another day at home.