Three (very minor) annoying things

How can I limit myself to only three? Once I get started I'll think of more, but since three is already typed up there in the title, I'll have to stick to it and not work myself into a foaming-at- the-mouth frenzy.
1. The Hallmark Channel has episodes of Law and Order and Criminal Intent on every night. They are old, but some I actually haven't seen, and most I don't remember. But they keep doing this commercial that they have "the new season" and then play clips with Lenny Briscoe in them. Salt in my (not so fresh) wound, Hallmark.
2. The food packages here that say they are re-sealable. In my opinion this means some kind of zipper top, not simply a piece of tape stuck to the back of the bag with the words "resealable tab" printed across it.
3. Remember which day was trash day was hard enough when it was every week. Make it every other week and I have to do things like dash out into the rain, barefoot, in my pajamas, with a naked toddler standing in the open door behind me, when I hear the beeping of the trash truck backing down our cul de sac.

Each basson, having its big fat say

You will not be surprised to hear that Silas is as big of a dork as his mother. His new favorite song? 76 Trombones from the Music Man. This may or may not have anything to do with the fact that I was marching around the kitchen, doing high kicks, playing air trombone, and using a stalk of rhubarb as a baton. OK, so maybe Silas is not *quite* as big a dork as his mother. At least not yet.

Ready for the plowing show

Remember when I was lamenting the size of shoes in these parts? Well, look what I found in the shoe store today!

I can not even relate to you how freaking excited I am. Wellies! Pirate wellies!

They are a size 10, so they are a bit snug. But they are all rubber so they are sort of stretchy. And I think you kind of want a nice snug fit because the last thing you want is your wellies to get stuck in the muck and your foot slip out of it.
Part of me might feel a bit bad slogging through cow manure in such fashionable shoes, but after a good hose-off they should be ready to go back with a little black dress for all my formal occasions.
(turns out you can't link from the title text, so for an explanation of the plowing show reference, go here and here)

We go together like moo moo baa cluck*

I love to sing. And while I think I have a decent enough voice, I have no memory for lyrics. So when I sing I typically sing the same couple lines over and over again, or otherwise mangle the words, and have been much harangued for it by my dear sisters.
The other day though was a personal best even for me, as I sang "There are No Cats in America" from Fivel's American Tail to the tune of "America" from West Side Story.
It went a little something like this "There are no cats in America, for a small fee in America!"

Orrin's reaction? "Sounds ok to me."

Shoes glorious shoes

Rachel tells me that shorter more frequent posts are preferable to loner less frequent ones. Well, wait until she reads the meaningless garbage that I can frequently come up with, then she may be changing her tune.
So I'm taking advantage of this weird trance like state the Silas is currently in where he's sitting peacefully on my lap as I sit at the computer and read, and *gasp* even as I type. Yes, typing with two hands and a child on my lap. Alright so now it's not just peacefully sitting but lightly pinching my arms. Still he's awake and I'm sitting down at the computer and there is no screaming, grunting, or being pulled somewhere to go blow bubbles.
Today he discovered the eject button for the CD-ROM drive. I suppose it's not really a good toy for a toddler, but it sure is convenient to sit and type and while he quietly pushes the same button over and over again.
So what I was going to say, is that we're sitting here at the computer and I'm checking my email. Sometimes I go to the inbox and just delete anything not from an actual person without even opening the message. But today I flipped through them, one by one.
Two messages of cute shoes on sale. One was the irresistible Robeez, the other was Piper Lime with pictures of freakin' adorable ballet flats. A-dorable. It is too much.
But that is one of the benefits of living in Ireland I guess. No shoe store in town has a woman's shoe over a size 9. And yet they all stage beautiful window displays of some of the cutest shoes I have ever seen. Window displays I walk by nearly every day. So I am becoming immune to the siren call of the shoe. OK, not immune, but it is muffled a bit. All thanks to my size 11 clodhoppers.

"We go through microwaves like most people go through shoes." -Hank Hill

A mess

Correction: we would have been set for no grocery shopping for two weeks until I dropped 10 eggs on the kitchen floor.

Everyone should have an Orrin

I received the teeniest amount of grief from Orrin yesterday over supposedly blaming our colds on him in the last post. So today, for the sake of fairness, I thought I would share a little example of what a crabapple I was Friday night when the evil cold virus first attacked, and what a tolerant sweet husband I truly do have.
Let me first preface this story with some information. Orrin loves Thera-Flu when he is sick. And if I could make the text of loves blink with flashing pink heart shaped lights around it, I would. He really thinks the stuff has magical powers.

Me: I think I'm starting to get sick too. Will you fill up the kettle while I go upstairs and see if I can find some Thera-Flu?
O: OK.
Me: (coming back downstairs, Thera-Flu in hand) Is there a reason you didn't you fill up the kettle?!
O: Um, I did.
Me: Oh, sorry about that. (impatiently waiting for kettle to boil, and pouring powder into a mug) Will you make it for me?
O: Sure.
Me: Ok, I'm going upstairs to get in my pj's.
O: I'll be right up.
O: (delivering Thera-Flu)
Me: What's wrong with these pillows? They are so lumpy. I can't get them right. Argh, this stupid mug is so hot! Why is this so hot? This tastes awful. I thought you said this stuff was good! It tastes like medicine!
O: (quietly) It is medicine, sweetie.
Me: I know but I thought it was going to be good medicine. You tricked me! This stinks. I hate being sick. Why do these blankets have to be so... blankety?
O: Ok, good night.


In other, non-whiney news, Silas is starting to walk. He's been pulling up on things for the past 5 months or so, and cruising along at lightening speed, but he is either very cautious, or has poor balance because he is just in the past few days walking across the room. He puts his hands on his hips, or straight down at his sides, as though he doesn't need them at all for balance, and just casually strolls across the room. It's very very cute, and I really should get the camera out so I can record some of these first few steps. I've been a bit lax in my picture taking the past few weeks, but we'll get some more taken this weekend I'm sure, since Silas's cousin will be here for extra inspiration.