See, here's the thing, folks. I only have so much free time in a day. I use that time either writing on my blog or reading yours. And when I have many writer-crazy friends that means I spend two hours reading their stuff instead of writing my own. You can't have it both ways, people. So quit writing about your families and other crap you love. Then we'll be getting somewhere here.
I just finished reading Peawhistle her bedtime story. She chose "We Help Daddy," one of the classic Golden Books I had as a child and passed along to her. I am always struck by the shear number of chores these people (Daddy, Benjy, and little Sue) are able to accomplish, particularly given the fact that two of the three contributors are apparently under the age of five and by definition a liability rather than an asset. Any other man in "Daddy's" situation would take upwards of 56 hours to accomplish what this fellow does in just one day. He amazes me. And on top of that, "Daddy" also smokes like a chimney. He's like the Energizer Bunny, but with emphysema.
The book also shows "Mommy" baking cookies in the kitchen--I'm assuming all day long, because really, that's why I don't bother with them. Peawhistle pointed and said, "Look! That Mommy's making cookies! Just like BStephanie!" You'll notice she did not bother to assume I would ever do the same, or was even capable of such. At least her expectations aren't high.
Halfway through their day, the kids help Daddy bathe Zip, their dog, who according to legend hates baths. Zip reminds me of Peanut, who has despised baths since the day he was born. And I don't mean that he fusses or cries a little. He FREAKS THE HELL OUT. He begins to tremble the second you even start to clean the bathtub. You'd think I were pouring acid on him or something (I'm not). This is why I strongly suspect he's a witch.
Today it snowed again. Snow twice in the course of 30 days?? Crazy talk you say! Indeed. I was especially pleased though, that the snow didn't confuse our refuse collection fellows today as it did last week when the dusting of snow on our white trash bags camouflaged them so effectively that ours were the only trashbags left on our entire street after the fellows had come and gone. Nevermind that our trashbags were sitting right there on the sidewalk and thus created unnatural two-foot-high lumps on said sidewalk. Why no, we haven't installed sidewalks two feet higher than everyone else's, although we are trying to discourage visitors! (TAKE THE HINT ALREADY.) But white=snow, so no trash collection for you, jerks!
One last thought. No, two. First I have to click my tongue at Bob Carol on principle. No wonder he wound up in London running a halfway house. And second, it's also no wonder Congress has no trouble handing out cash left and right to any Tom, Dick, or Harry, Inc. since it's not their money they're giving away. PAY YOUR TAXES YOU SPENDTHRIFT HOSERS. We have little enough respect for you as it is without being forced to also give you a completely free ride for the rest of your worthless term in office. There's a place specially reserved for the worst of the worst of society like you, you leeches! It's called Annapolis! NO GPS FOR YOU!!