Well here it is Friday afternoon, and I have completed, and passed (at least preliminarily anyway) my PHR test - back to napping guilt free, yippee!
Since moving here, I have learned many interesting and useful things (examples: whooping is alive and well in the south, Carolinians are bad drivers, and the merits of Confederate Flag Day), but have recently learned a new phrase and thought I should share it with you . . . Meat and Three.
I'm still struggling with its actual meaning, but have come to understand it as dry meat and three soggy sides. I am willing to concede I could be a little bit wrong about it's meaning though.
On a recent trip to Wal-Mart (I still want to cry every time I admit it) I discovered a new product that I can't believe has not become an overnight success - injectable honey glaze.
This little tantalizing treat comes with its own syringe and a list of suggestions of what to inject said glaze into. I realize that food companies have been injecting meat for years, but it's always been in the privacy of their own plant. Just the idea of bringing injectable goodness out into the open is at the very least owning up to one's guilty pleasures, but more than that, it seems down right scandalous.
Once the world gets a taste of self-honey-glaze injecting, where will it stop? Why stop at honey glaze? Why not injectable butter (at the least), or injectable gravy, or for that matter, injectable mayonnaise?
As if that wasn't enough excitement for one trip, while I was checking out, I got into a lively conversation with the checker about the merits of gardening with Wal-Mart bags - one layer of plastic bags, one layer of dirt, one layer of plastic bags, one layer of dirt . . .
After two weeks of staying with our neighbors while we were gone, Bubbles has decided she wants a new family. Nearly every time we let her out, she runs to the neighbors and refuses to come home. She has already spent several nights over there (they say she won't leave, and I say it's the tuna fish in their pockets), and launches an attack against me when I go to get her.
Bubbles has a thing for fresh water, so she jumps into the sink anytime she thinks you may turn it on, and Addie has discovered the joy of "washing her hands" while the cat is in said sink (read, turning the water on the cat's head). I realize this may not be an ideal home life compared to sleeping in our neighbor's bed and getting canned tuna fish whenever you're hungry, but after spending $600 on her, I'll be damned if the neighbors are going to get her.
I am fairly certain Bubbles is plotting how to achieve refugee status as we speak.
For those keeping track at home, I have just won the Upstanding Parenting Award.
We have a particularly irksome nine year old in our neighborhood who is around a lot, and has recently taken to tormenting Bubbles under the guise of trying to "make friends."
On one particularly trying day, he told me our cat was mean and was always biting him. I then (because I remembered that I was the grown-up in the situation) told him that was because we were training the cat to attack him.
Now you'd think I would have stopped there, but no. I then went on to tell him that in fact, we had a picture of him in the house and were working on training Bubbles to attack the picture every time we said his name.
Upon reflection, maybe that wasn't the best way to handle the situation.
Two recent headlines in our local paper read, "Squirrels Plot to Take Over." and the other, "The Joys of Eating Squirrels." Those are honest to goodness headlines, and both are near and dear to my heart considering my experience with the carnivorous squirrels in our yard.
Granted, the first article was about a shortage of acorns and how the squirrels are plotting and scheming to take over bird feeders, but I think the sentiment behind the article was the same - squirrels are scary scary creatures and steps should be taken so they don't take over the world (this is where article number two comes in . . .).
Take care and have a great weekend!