Where I work is a break room in a factory in a town called Chickasha which is 20 miles south of my house. Today after I got off, I cruised around for a bit and stumbled upon the adorable part of Chickasha, where old people sit in front-porch rocking chairs, and men in cardigans rake leaves, while the little bobbins ride red tricycles up and down the sidewalk. People are out throwing frisbees to golden retrievers in front of gorgeous craftsman-style homes.
And then, 2 blocks over, it’s all hide yo kids, hide yo wife–to quote Cheyenne’s take on the town. This is the way of Chickasha; it’s either Mayberry or Detroit. There appears to be no middle ground.
In other news, I hate my dog. Because he keeps running away.
Because I hate him.
Caleb and I celebrated our 8-year anniversary the other day. We walked around Bass Pro Shops for 2 hours and ate at a Mexican restaurant, where I ordered a chile relleno the size of a small child. Cheyenne babysat like a boss. We came home and passed out from sheer exhaustion, just like we do every other night.
My kids keep getting pink-eye. The rapid rate at which this crap spreads is alarming and depressing. We’ll never ever get rid of it. We’ll have pink-eye for the rest of winter and probably spring. Which is *awesome*, because our health insurance hasn’t kicked in yet with Caleb’s new job. So thank God for Walmart Pharmacy and their $4 medicines.
I got a crazy long to-do list that involves getting out Christmas cards, which have been addressed and stamped since Thanksgiving if you can believe that. Why have they not been mailed, you ask? Because it’s just not my style to wish Christmas joy to my family and friends before Valentine’s Day.
Plus I am one forgetful mamma-jamma.
Also: “Rise of the Guardians” is my new most favorite movie of all time.
That is all.