I was just thinking the other day

I really need to get some more candy. My candy jar is pathetically empty. Its actually Dylan's candy jar, but still. Oftentimes it ends up being more of a community jar than anything. Then he tells me he needs more candy, because its almost gone. I'm all 'What do you mean you need more candy?? I need more candy!!! Psh!'


Yea, that's right. It's a ONE GALLON JAR. At one point this year [I believe it was shortly after Easter] it was actually 3/4 full. Not bad, since we've added & majorly subtracted since. But still. We really don't have much of a selection left. Its pretty pathetic... you'll notice we still have the crappy chocolate Easter eggs... :sigh:

:Segues into new topic:

Who doesn't love a bonfire? How about on a Thursday night? The older boys & I decided to have a fire last night. Fredward has been working 10 hour days so he didn't join us, as he needed to rest his weary head [not to mention his body]. I didn't want to risk Jack-jack being carried off by mosquitoes, so he stayed in. I played a bit with the ISO speed on the camera to capture some of the flamage, so I can use it for further study on drawing/painting flames. Here's a few shots...



*this one is my fave.*


And of course, you can't have fire pictures without mr. Alex, the firebug. I swear, he'll end up being a pyro, just like me. He started the fire & then yelled at Dylan twice because he nearly fell INTO the fire pit [like a ding dong, walking around the stone- you can see its not very sturdy]. Ah, it ended well though. No chocolate, no graham crackers, but we had marshmallows! The 3 of us and the dog each had two marshmallows, un-charred. No big sticks for cooking the marshmallow on, as our yard is encased by PINE TREES. So much so, that Alex had to run across the street to steal some sticks from the neighbors yard to get the fire going.



Good times! Oh! And just because it looked cool...
Sadie with crazy eyes.

Diary of a MotherFucker

Its 1am, & surprise! I'm still awake.

I'm hungry, I have itchy feet & somehow my bedroom smells like a shit diaper, despite my checking the baby's pants.

So here I sit, eating the snack of champions- a banana with peanut butter. No, not a sandwich. Take the banana, peel it, smear it with a spoonful of the gift from the peanut gods, enjoy. Its the closest thing I have in the house as something 'sweet' to eat. Unfortunately the shitty Easter chocolate isn't even enough to take the edge off. Plus, this peanut butter is FABULOUS! The Natural Jif [& you don't have to stir!] is so delicious, I savor every spoonful. yuuuuummmmmmm. <--There was a free plug, if ever there needed to be one.--> Oh yea. Need I mention, I just polished off the jar? There was 2, maybe 3 heaping tablespoons left at the bottom and if you scraped down the sides. This shit doesn't last in my house. I need, like, a 50 gallon drum. Perhaps that would last a month. Or two.

Actually, the snack-o-champions used to be in my regimen of 'brain food' that I'd eat late at night [sense a theme here?] while I was in college, doing my homework after the hubby & kids went to bed. Up until 2am to write a paper? No problem! Have some peanut butter. Hell, have a peanut butter & banana sandwich. Oooh, how about some dried cherries on that? And honey? Awesome!!! Sweet, just found the chocolate chips- better add a few...

The itchy feet I blame on bad shoes, mosquitos, and my desperate need for a pedicure. The last time I went to get one, it was for my sister in law's bachelorette evening- over 2 years ago. My feet are so abused- bad shoes, barefoot the minute its warm enough, no regular pedi's or even filing of the dead skin... seriously its icky. And I'm telling you about this because...? In hopes you'll buy one of my paintings so I can get this shit taken care of. And maybe find that 50 gal vat o'peanut butter. That I don't have to stir.

Speaking of shit, I'm going to say for tonight/thisearlymorning that Jack farted & he just stank up the room. That's right. I'm blaming the baby. He's just as bad as his father. So indirectly I blame fredward. Its his fault our kid is so stanky. Its his fault because I've never heard of any other person WHO CAN WAKE THEIR SPOUSE FROM A DEAD SLEEP BECAUSE OF THE STENCH COMING FROM HIS ASS. As he giggles into his pillow... :fucker:.

In the morning, I'll tear the room up.

There are days

when I don't know whether to laugh or cry, be amused, amazed or downright mortified. Having a teenager in the house is definitely a clusterfuck of emotions. I remember being a teenager... my parents hated me [or so I liked to think], everything I did/said/thought was wrong [sometimes continues to present day], I could do no right, my parents don't know me... yada, yada, yada. And yet, here I am, typing away on my bliggity-blog, eventually posting this to my facey-spaces, realizing that these "issues" have come full circle.

I like to say that I am a very private person, and no one single person knows everything there is to know about me. I always preferred solitude, and still do, much to the disappointment of my husband & kids. I do just fine at parties, and yet, I still like the privacy oneness gives me. There is something so satisfying, and yes, selfish, about alone time.

There really is no where in particular that I am going with this post, other that pointing out this observation to you, dear reader. Oh, and the fact that my eldest son likes to think he's a "G" every now and then. This.... :grins: this boy will eat the icky chocolate eggs left from Easter just to get the colored foil so he can make his "grill".


Yep. :sigh: That's my boy!