How nice is it that as of now, 100% of the comments to my previous post were supportive? I really do appreciate your thoughts and opinions and funny stories. Come over to my house. I made a batch of cake balls. Let’s eat them.
Really. I made a batch of cake balls.
They’re purple with pink stripes and white cake with white icing and I’ve eaten at least four of them today.
Jeff is on a business trip in Florida. As I sit here typing, he is eating breakfast at Downtown Disney.
(I made a batch of cake balls. Let’s eat them.)
This has nothing to do with that: When Meredith was three years old, she got really angry with me one afternoon, and she screamed, “I’m going to poop on your pillow, and then I’m going to poop on your wedding rings!!!” (Please know that when I’m especially frustrated, I tell Jeff that I’m going to poop on his wedding ring. Please also know that I would never actually do such a thing, as I am Refined. Like sugar.)
Anyway, Scout has been going through a phase in which she likes to do her business in the girls’ bedroom. (On the floor. Never on Meredith’s pillow.) To me, it’s a taste of What Goes Around Comes Around or Spinning Wheel Got to Go Round or something to that effect. (Speaking of which, I never did get a spinning wheel. The fever has settled for now, as I’m having trouble finding time to use my spindle, which leads me to believe that I really have no time to deal with a wheel right now.)
Why am I not spinning? Because I’m spending most of my waking hours with this:
Scout has discovered that she can’t really do much with the cone around her face. She tends to knock her food dish over with the cone, so I have to feed her by hand. She can’t run full speed under the couch while wearing the cone, so I have to help her find alternate hiding places. When she takes a drink, she slobbers onto the cone, and then it drips onto her neck when she lifts her face up—and she can’t scratch her neck because of the cone, so I’m constantly having to wipe OUT the cone and scratch her neck! (I know. I’m creating a monster.) ARGH! Scout HAS discovered a bit of a coping mechanism, and that is: Naps. Naps filled with dreams of what she COULD be doing while wearing that stinking cone.
She could be walking on the moon. (She has always been a fan of The Police.)
She could be One Less Lonely Girl at a Justin Bieber concert.
Best of all, she could be Ira Glass’s dangling earring, which would allow her to whisper sweet somethings into his ear. (Sweet nothings are for amateurs. Scout is a woman of substance. Valentin Louis Georges Eugène Marcel Proust!)
(As Mr. Glass performs in St. Louis on Saturday evening, Peter Gabriel will be performing in Kansas City. Missouri wins the Saturday Night Coolness Award.)