Just some stuff

I have a new favorite game. It was invented by my favorite son and is possibly the best game known to man. And woman. It’s called Cat’s in the Can. I can’t divulge all the secrets of this fantastic invention, but I can give you some highlights. Running and hiding – good. Screaming “cat’s in the can!” at the top of your lungs – good. Hurling a bean-bag frog at your loved ones – gooood. (I know, it sounds a little complicated. But for a mere $500, I will mail you a complete set of instructions – fully illustrated and in the language of your choice – and a bonus bean-bag frog. Act now! You’ll never see a deal like this again.)

Last week it snowed. When it snows here, the collective IQ of licensed drivers in Alaska drops by, like, five million points. True story.

We recently acquired a keyboard that plays My Heart Will Go On every time someone pushes the demo button. Unfortunately, I have two children who push the demo button at every possible opportunity. I’m thinking that my husband will make it as least a month until the song drives him to the brink of insanity. So I’d best use the keyboard while I can.

Why is it that when you’re pregnant, no one has qualms about telling you how huge you are? Why, when someone doesn’t like your parenting style, out come the opinions, whether you want them or not? And why do some people feel comfortable telling other people how to drive, how to spend their money, or how to run their lives? Tell me. Why? Why does all of that happen and yet not one single person I came into contact with yesterday would tell me that I was walking around with my pants unzipped? Because that information at least would have been useful to me.