Start With Pee, End With a Special Event. Or maybe it's the other way around.

My plan for celebrating my very last class was to take a few pictures of my cousins and then sleep in on Sunday. Instead, I saw David Allen Coe went to bed right around when I usually wake up. The best laid plans of mice and men...

I didn't get a picture of David Allen Coe, but The-Guy did get a picture of a sign. I don't even want to consider what type of special events are held in bathrooms:

The bathroom was working despite the lack of special events, so My Boy thought that maybe using the bathroom WAS the special event.

My Stepgal painted my toenails like this:

A five year old asked me if it came out of the bottle like that. I guess when you've grown up knowing skype and cell phones and all types of i-things, newsprint out of a bottle sounds completely plausible.

I'm not sure why anyone would want to start with "pee" no matter what one ends with, but evidently that's what they're condoning at My Boy's martial arts class:

I don't know why.

And that's it - another fine week! Wishing everyone a good one!

I'll take some hazardous material with that crock pot please...

I've been half on vacation, because I'm off from work, but not from my classes. I'm done with my classes in a week though, so then as That Sweet Pea O' Mine pointed out, I'll be half on vacation all the time!

I pass by this sign on my way home. It flashes these messages:






I'm not sure which I'm pining for most - hazardous material or the ELE, but either way a garage ale is a good deal, I'm sure.

My brother is visiting from Buffalo. Maybe you can kind of tell why My Boy and the Sweet Pea call him "Uncle Fun":



We saw this daycare. I'm sure it's way better than the immoral ones down the street!



My brother spotted this sign. Otherwise, I'm sure the sidewalks would be littered! Littered with motorcycles I tell 'ya!


I dunno. I though sidewalks were for walking, but who's to really say about these things?

Flowers in the front yard:



Last but not least, That Sweet Pea O' Mine wanted me to show off this kitty face inside a carrot:


And that's it! One week left to go on my classes and then I start my 12 step program for people who sign up for too much stuff! Happy weekend everyone!

My Last Class is Technology. Maybe I Can Learn Me Some Internets

I'm in my last class. I hate it, because it is an introductory course and irritating. I love it, because occasionally I can play with my camera and call it homework.





But I hate it, because it's time consuming in a way that doesn't normally involve a camera.

At least I got to go to the coast this weekend and see birds and wild boars having dinner.







And My Guy's ball game.



And bake hamentashen cookies.

When I posted about Go Texan Day, Bruce (from Hypocrisy) was trying to reconcile the whole Cowboy Texan Jew thing.

If thinking Kinky Friedman doesn't do the trick, what about jalapeño jelly filled hamentashen?



I tried s'mores flavor and some with peanut butter and chocolate this year too.

Back to work on my class! I need to go learn me how to do stuff on the internets.

Happy week everyone!

I Forgot to Leave Time for Breathing

Within the past twelve months, in addition to working and parenting and doing laundry and stuff I have: gotten married, celebrated my boy's bar mitzvah, started a Master's Degree and come within three weeks of finishing it (okay, twenty days). It's a lot for one year.

When people at work asked how I could possibly complete a Master's in only one year, I answered with the God's honest truth:

I cried a lot.

I don't recommend speeding through like that AT ALL. Although it may be preferable to prolonging the misery, who knows?

This week, I somehow managed to take 500 and something pictures of My Sweet Pea's school play, three of which are suitable for this blog (because they don't feature other kids...privacy and all). Presenting Veruca Salt:







Meanwhile, My Boy made a joke:

For whatever reason he was allowed to watch The Grudge at his dad's house. Fully aware of my disapproval, My Boy remained quiet as I interrogated him...

Me - "What was the name of that movie you saw? The Ghost? The Grime?"
Him - No response
Me - "The Grime? The Grin? The Grudge? The Glove?"
Him - No response
Me - "It was something scary that started with a 'g'..."
Him - "The Gas Prices!!!"

He's right. I'm terrified. And that's about it for another week!