Some randomness for this fine Friday morning.
In the spirit of the fifty pound rice bags, the husband has continued his supersizing efforts. I came home yesterday to find a five pound tub of peanut butter in our fridge (the hippie co-op kind has to be refrigerated, in case you’re wondering).
The little man obtained a large sheet of bubble wrap, the kind with the very small blisters. He’s been laying it down on the landing and jumping on it from a few steps up. The resulting sounds are not unlike the bursting of firecrackers.
When we were at the park last night two tween girls approached me…to tell me they liked my hair. I’m meeting with more tween and teen approval now than I did when I was of that age. Guess at 31 I’m finally “cool”. Or something.
This article, via Cheek, explains so much (about love being blind):
“It seems that once we get close to a person, the brain decides the need to assess their character and personality is reduced.”
And here I was thinking I’d just been hypnotized…the year I dated the little man’s bio-dad.
It’s great to see this burgeoning awareness of the Iron Sheik (the current incarnation, not the pro-wrestling villain). Mizna was lucky enough to host a performance of his in Minneapolis last Fall. Alas, I was without a little man sitter that night.
There’s been something of a Misfits revival going on in our household of late, and I can’t get Glenn’s crooning of “I want your skulls, I need your skulls” out of my head. Now that’s an earworm if ever there was one.
I was about to take a fabulous photo last night, of some kids running up to an ice cream truck, against a cotton candy sunset, when my camera batteries died. Curses.
