Such is the state of my blogging these days. The toilet, not the cute baby. And that's not one of my midgets, for the record, just a cute picture I pirated off the internet.
I just haven't been in the mood to write lately. Normally Hot Jeff is telling me to put Ruby down and for the love of everything holy please feed him and his children but lately he's like, "hey, do you ever write anymore?" and I'm all, "blog clog".
I had a hideous English teacher in high school who was fresh out of college and flirted with all the boys in my class (seriously, how inappropriate is that?) and she always made us journal for a few minutes when class started and she said even if we didn't have anything to write about to write anyway because it is good exercise. Well I've never liked exercise and I certainly didn't like her but I'm trying to take her advice and write for the practice. Plus, I'm starting to get death threats from my regulars.
What I really need to write about but I haven't got anything funny to say about it yet (I'm working on it) is how we sold our Accord and bought a Pilot! A PILOT!! Like my dream car Pilot. I've wanted a Pilot FOR.EV.ER. So we broke down and got a used one with low miles (because Hot Jeff thinks buying a new car is a kin to lighting money on fire) and it has leather seats and when I drive it I feel like those "older" ladies I used to be in book club with who were married to doctors, golfed a lot, were always tan and spent their winters in Arizona. And because I know you're wondering, we named her Harriett. We had talked about naming her Jessie after Rick Springfield's hit song, Jessie's Girl, but ultimately didn't think she looked like a Jessie. Plus, I'm kind of on an old lady name kick so when Jeff threw "Harriett" out there I knew it was perfect. Samuel, who is 3 and thinks his way is the only way, refuses to call her Harriett and defiantly calls her "Sally"just to irk me. Sally, is of course, the name of Lightning McQueen's girlfriend and I'm sure in his mind his mother must have some nerve even daring to name a car anything but Sally and surely someday when that car needs any work done it will be because the Honda gods are getting their sweet revenge on me for naming my Pilot Harriett and not Sally.
Ok, and speaking of Rick Springfield...for my birthday Jeff surprised me and Shannon with Rick Springfield tickets. 2 funny things about this: 1) The concert was at Spirit Mountain Casino! HaHa! 2) Shannon had to google Rick Springfield! In Shannon's defense when she was a kid and all the kids went to cool summer camps Shannon's mom sent her to quilting camp. Yes, you read that right: quilting camp. I suppose that is enough said on why Shannon didn't know who Rick Springfield is. We had a grand ol' time eating at Oregon's largest buffet and watching women who are just a fuzz older than us wearing halter tops that were just a fuzz too tight for them shake their boobies at Rick. When we got in the car to head home Shannon looked at me with a glint in her eye and said, "I had fun. I felt like a kid in an effed up candy store"!
Kudos to Jeff for knowing his wife well enough to know when she was a little girl she wore her cassette tape of "Working Class Dog" out and named her dog, of course, Jessie and that she would LOVE going to see a 60 year old washed up rock star/soap icon who is still pretty hot wear leather and shake his butt for a lot of 40 somethings. You rock my world Hot Jeff. And you're not bad either, Dr. Noah Drake.
Ok, so that's about it and maybe Ms. Flom (yep, that was her name. Feel free to google her and see if she is in prison for doing it with underaged students.) was right about writing and exercise and quite possibly 17 year old boys.