Righty-tighty, lefty-loosey–unless you’re dealing with the frothing attachment of a cappuccino maker, apparently.
Something that made even Cheyenne laugh out loud? ME: "Oh, you kids are getting on my ever-lovin’ nerves today!" MIA: "Cheyenne, you’re getting on mom’s seven little nerds today!"
I’m so close to finishing those wedding invitations I can almost taste it. Once those are shipped off, I’m painting the crap out of some rubber gangsters. And when I get done with that, I’ve got big ideas for a humongous 3-section living room painting.
I cleaned the garage–like, emptied off every shelf and surface, moved every cabinet, shop-vac-ed every spiderweb, dirtpile and dead cockroach, and bleach-wiped everything in sight. I worked like a dog straight-up all day in 100 degree weather, and it was all in vain. Jesus himself could paint a rainbow in my garage, and it would still look filthy.
Caleb’s birthday–leftover fireworks and Spider-man cupcakes. It doesn’t get any better than that.
Oh, well, yes it does. I bought–for him, of course–a memory foam topper to put on the 40-year-old beast of a mattress we normally sleep on. I felt like I was laying. On. A. Cloud.
Watched "7 Pounds" last night. Woke up this morning with a horrible stomach ache and a ridiculous yet fearful obsession with the Box Jellyfish.
Seriously, the Box Jellyfish. Has anyone ever looked into that? Freaky stuff, what those things do.