what the hell was that thing?

did you hear that? that sonic boom around 5:20 EST....that was my head. it leapt clean off my body at some point and exploded. i shit you not. i'm still looking for my left eyebrow. let me know if it turned up in your yard or something. i look really weird with only one eyebrow.

it all began around 5:00. i had just finished homework with the lartian, which in itself is just short of a miracle because neither one of us ended up screaming or crying. i put a pound of bacon in the oven to cook.....yes, i put bacon in the oven, so sue me. i turned on the stove to start making french toast. i was whisking eggs and milk in time to the dishwasher-water noise, when i had the urge to look out the front window. i left the kitchen and rounded the corner of the dining room to find schmoo's best friend's mom on my front porch. apparently over the fork and water medly, i failed to hear her knocking. her son had forgotten his spelling book at school and they wanted to come in and do the homework real quick before dinner. um, okaaaaaay. so her older son sat down to do his spelling at my desk while her other 2 sons ran screaming through the house, causing my children to break into a loud frenzy and follow them. and then the phone rang.

it was the coordinating-chair-type-person for the scout pack-group-den-thing we are trying to join. a new one, not the over-zealous name-calling uber-christians. so now i am trying to write down contact information, dates and the *gulp* astounding price of becoming a boy scout, while seven children run around my home and oh shit!!!! i forgot to turn off the frying pan! i checked on the bacon while i was in there and mentally figured how much blood we might be able squeeze out of the proverbial turnip for dues and the required uniforms. after a twenty minute "we empathize with each other because we have many kids in many different scout troops" talk, i remembered the bacon again. it was half-burnt. and then someone let the dog out as i hung up the phone. have i mentioned that we live on a busy street and i have shit myself numerous times when people don't slow down for me to turn into my own driveway, let alone tap the brakes for an animal? fortunately the dog has grown a brain in the past couple of months and ran into the backyard instead of the street. unlike the visiting boys. i'm still not kidding.

schmoo's best friend's mom told her kids (and i quote) "this is the last time i'm going to tell you that we are leaving," no less than eleven times. yes, i counted. at 6:05, i was allowed to start making dinner again. with the help of my two older kids, who acted as butter-ers, cutters, and silverware fetchers, i managed to have food served and lips smacking by 6:15.

i am currently enjoying a stiff cocktail of cran-peach and smirnoff, heavy on the latter. no i will not do the dishes or share my drink. nyah.