Moonbow at APOD - nasa.gov

I did catch up today on this week’s Astronomy Pictures of the Day, though, and ran across one that featured a location I’m also writing about this week.

Unfortunately, my stuff looks NOTHING like this.

“This doesn’t look very appetizing.”

I’m kind of astonished by the implication that, in eight years, something *has* looked appetizing enough that she comments on the lack now. God knows that when I’m eating my own food, I usually just close my eyes, say a prayer, and hope for the best.

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Photo by sporkist on Flickr, licensed with Creative Commons, Attribution.

The disdain he felt for me after I named him Sweetpea is NOTHING like what he feels now.

Because, like any other seven-year-old, my daughter thinks it is hilarious when “butt” is included in any conversation. And our kitty, Sweetpea, just happened to be sitting on the end of her bed, cleaning himself in that area. And, like the mature and responsible mommy that I am, I tried to wake her up with,

“OMG, you have to see this! Wake up and see this! Kitty is licking his butt!”

It did the trick. Kid sat up and looked. Kitty raised his head to see what all of the fuss was about … and revealed that it hadn’t been his butt that he was licking.

Now the kid wants to know all about the pink pokey thing. And although I explained in anatomical terms exactly what it was, she knows that there is more to it…because I’d chortled before catching myself, and the way that kids can home in on a parent’s weakness puts laser-guidance systems to shame. So she keeps asking me about it, and reminding me, just to see if I can keep a straight face.

And Sweetpea … well, I can only say that I’m sorry that I neutered you, dude. But if licking your junk is all you have left, that’s not so bad, is it?

Usually, I thread my brows — it’s quicker, cleaner, and I find it less painful than plucking, and I don’t have to worry about making an appointment at the salon or losing the entire eyebrow to an overenthusiastic aesthetician. Except, for the life of me, I couldn’t find any thread (I’m not exactly a sewing-type of person.) So I tried to improvise, but … well, let’s just consider this a public service announcement.

Waxed floss does not work!

Ahem. And so plucking, it was. And I also had my hair all cut off. If you aren’t on Twitter/Facebook and missed the pics, here it is.

Here’s a pretty good how-to video threading your brows. It takes a bit of practice, but once you get it down, is super quick and easy.

We knew better than to forget the sweatshirts, though.

*sorry for the sappy mommy post. What can I say? I didn’t see her for THREE days, and she was sick the whole time. SOB SOB.

Here is the TV news report and the article. If you are in the area, please take a look.

Toilet tissue roll replacement: satisfactory, though still needs reminding.

Washing & drying laundry (his own, but that’s enough): satisfactory. Training complete.
Putting away laundry: mostly satisfactory.

Toast-making: excellent. Training complete.

Washing own dishes: utter failure. Cannot comprehend that rinsing it out is not equivalent to soap, scrub, rinse, dry. I fear anything he’s “washed.”

Doing more than just taking trash can liner out of trash can and setting it on the kitchen floor so that he “can fit more shit in there,” maybe even taking it out to the porch, instead, so that we can run it downstairs the next time we go out: failure. Reinforcement via shock therapy? Fail. Am trying starvation next.

Kitty litter replacement: Sigh. Still thinks it only needs to be replaced when the cat is ready to go on the clothes.

Tasks still doing myself because at least I know it’ll be done right: 1,233,302.

2) If a fresh loaf of French bread enters her car, still warm from the Safeway bakery oven, chances are it will not come out of her car. (Digging through grocery bag for warm French bread while driving = double road safety FAIL.)

3) If the bread, by some miracle, does make it out of the car (usually with a huge chunk ripped out of it) it will likely not last until the the noodles are cooked.

4) Meljean’s idea of variety is having different kinds of noodles: spaghetti, fettuccine, rigatoni, or that spirally kind. Oh! or the bowtie kind.

5) She writes blog posts in the third person.

Here’s Pavarotti:

COMPLICATIONS: Meljean doesn’t want to cook anything substantial or time-consuming, so she pulls out the mac & cheese (generic brand, because she likes that better, and in dinosaur shapes, because she bought it for her daughter thinking her daughter would like that, but her daughter DID NOT LIKE IT AND WHERE WAS THE MACARONI? And so all of the regular macaroni mac & cheese was gone, leaving Meljean with Dino mac.)

ACTION: Meljean cooks Dino mac. Meljean stirs in cheese and realizes that it’s different than usual generic brand, and does not smell very good.

MELJEAN: (calls to husband, sitting in living room with computer on lap and tv to sports channel) Yo! The mac & cheese is going to be gross! It’s the bad version of mac & cheese!

BOBBY: That’s okay, I’ve gotten used to everything you make being the bad version of whatever it’s supposed to be.

MELJEAN: You can’t see it, but I’m flipping you off.*

BOBBY: You can’t see it, but I took my wiener out of my pants and put it in your ass.**

*Was really scooping the gross mac & cheese into a bowl…because Meljean is also used to eating the worst of whatever her food is supposed to be.

**Was really sitting on the sofa trying to look up Peyton Manning’s SNL commercial.

While stopped, I learned that my license has been suspended for the past year. (Because last year, I’d been pulled over for having a missing headlight, and found out that my license had expired when I turned 30. Then I forgot about the court date, and sent in the money, but apparently even though you get a receipt/clear from the courts, you’re supposed to take that in to the DMV so that they can reinstate your license. Whoops.)

Went to DMV, was reinstated as a legal driver.

Now, 9:30, I’m back home and about to start writing again.