Time for another "Parents, What Say You?"

Ok, suppose this is the case: you are in a diner with your two darling children, both under the age of four. On the shelf next to the table is one of those evil animatronic plus animals from Hallmark that sings and dances when you push its paw.

The diner is crowded. The tables are close together. The animatronic animal sings "Who Let the Dogs Out."

How many times do you let your kids push the dog's paw?

Zero, because you hate seeing children happy
Zero, because once you start that shit, it never stops
Once, to satisfy their curiosity
3-6, or until you are ready to lose your mind
Until another customer threatens you with bodily harm
Unlimited times, because your children are precious snowflakes who can do no harm and why do people try to quash the joy of little children?

(I had a poll up but it didn't work right, so hit me in the comments section).

This one is for Jim

...since it worked the first time against the evil Red Sox (sorry, Jonna).

In which I am maddeningly oblique

I told the World Famous Blogging Couple that I met for dinner tonight that I would write a maddeningly oblique post about them. See, they are breaking up but doing it gracefully and happily and maybe not really THAT breaking-uply and they may not be ready to go public with it.

Or maybe they are.

See how I am? Maddeningly oblique.

But more importantly, the man of the couple did something that filled me with joy.

He ate his salad with his fingers, dunking pieces of it in his dressing. YES! I am not the only person in the world that does this!

Salad. It is meant for fingers. Yes, I said it. Nothing is more unmanageable (except maybe peas) with a fork. And I was taught to never use a knife on salad. So. Unwieldy pieces, flapping free, covered with dressing.

A disaster waiting to happen.

Better to do as Mr. Mystery Blogger does and pick up and dunk. Come on. Try it. You know you want to. You could be a trendsetter for once. I know it didn't work out with the high-waisted jeans, but this may stick. Suebob says so.

My Purpose in Life

I always suspected that I had something inside me that I needed to say to the world, something important.

I finally figured out what that is.

Are you ready?

Here goes:

For the love of God, clothing manufacturers - nothing larger than a size medium should ever, ever come with cap sleeves. Can you get that straight once and for all? Please?


I rest my case. Thank you.

I Walk the Line

My blogging gets shitty when I am hiding something. My blogging has been pretty shitty lately. I feel like I am walking a minefield of worries.

My job may be eliminated. And it isn't like it is a good time to look for a job, either. My mom is in constant pain. My dad is legally blind and getting more forgetful and confused by the day. Giant blobs of mucus are taking over the ocean.

And now my dog is deaf. I don't think she lost her hearing suddenly, but I noticed it suddenly. I went to my folks' house and she was outside in the back yard. I went to look for her and saw her around the corner of the house, standing looking at the back door.

I said "Goldie."

She didn't even look.

"Goldie. GOLDIE." Nothing.

Finally she saw me out of the corner of her eye and came leaping up, happily.

So. She still seems happy but it must be strange for her, the dog with supersonic hearing, the dog who could hear a lizard rustle a leaf 10 feet away, to be deaf.

Fortunately we both already know everything the other one wants and is thinking, so there isn't much talking to do. It's just another weird thing.

Tell me some happy news.