Short post, today, as I’m coming up on that deadline. You know the one.
Best New Catchphrase of the Week:
A few days ago, Sunny was walking around in her pink cowgirl hat and plastic Disney Cinderella heels, dragging her unicorn hobby-horse with her.
“I’m a cowgirl,” she said to my MIL.
“Really? I don’t think cowgirls wear high heels to ride horses,” my MIL told her.
Sunny tilted back her hat, squinted up at her grandmother, and drawled,
“Some do. Some don’t.”
Best Two-Minute Short Film Ever:
Gumball Wars from Scott Thierauf on Vimeo.
See? Wasn’t kidding.
And the Award for the Best Husband Ever—Dune-Quoting Enabler Division—goes to:
I wrote until well-past midnight
last night this morning—Lisa (aka First Reader of Awesomeness) is my witness, as I keep e-mailing her in the wee hours with the latest chunks of Pigeon,* and telling her I’m going to bed—and had to get up a little earlier than I’d planned to wait for the central air guy to look at our system while everyone else went off to summer camps, yoga classes, ladies’ meetings, or whatever it is they do while I’m hard at work providing the raw informational materials for a better, more literate democracy.**
I was okay with this, until I realized that the only diet Pepsi in the house was the half bottle I’d left in the cupholder in my car.
With dire predictions of the state I would be in when they returned, I schlepped off to my laptop to string words together.
Two hours later, when I was trying to decide if combining the last respective bags of English Breakfast and Irish Breakfast teas would cure the pressure in my skull or start some sort of internecine warfare in the microwave, my husband returned.
With two 24-ounce six-packs of carbonated liquid gold.
“I love you,” I told
“He who controls the spice, controls the universe,” he said. “And they were on sale.”
*Yeah, I know how that sounds.
**It’s true. I can’t help it if people use the blank sides to scribble down Farmville cheat codes.