Once in a Blue Moon

Do you know what amazing event is to occur this month? What rare and wonderful thing is going to amaze and amuse us? That's right! A blue moon. (I'm going by the "two full moons in one month" definition. If you want a full explanation check out the Wikipedia entry). Blue moons only occur once every 2-3 years.

August 31st will be the second full moon in the month of August. We're going to celebrate with 'Blue Moon Cookies' (half moons frosted blue) and some as-yet-to-be-decided events.

Maybe Blue Moon Pizza with blue cheese, or a Blue Moon Movie Marathon where we get to watch any movie we haven't watched in a blue moon. Hmmmm - I have some planning to do.

Quack!

Curse you, Michael Flatley!

I am so NOT the Lord of the Dance. The other day as Sweet Pea was practicing some nice little tunes on her Irish tin whistle I decided to dance a little jig. It involved a few taps and toe steps, a little twirling and a whole hell of a lot of yelling. All I can say is make sure that there are no spare tools lying around if you decide to dance a jig.

Sweet Pea was very amused. She giggled for many many minutes. And then the hubby told me I was no Lord of the Dance which caused us all to giggle for a bit longer.

Curse you Michael Flatley - I blame this one on you! (just because I can! I certainly can't blame it on my own ineptitude, now can I?)

 Quack!

Dinner Conversation Is Overrated Anyway

I'm a very quiet person for the most part - at least outside of my own home. I tend to listen, but not participate much in conversations.

Of my three ducklings, one takes after me somewhat in that regard. Here's a recent conversation to illustrate that fact:

Hubby: They have these theaters where you can dine in while you watch the movie!
Duckling: Awesome! No need for dinner conversation!

I love that observation! Not 'No more annoying popcorn! Now I can have a steak at the movies!' or 'Action! Excitement! Good food and company!' but more of a 'now I don't have to pretend to be interested in what these losers have to say'. Awesome!

Quack!

I'm So Disgusting!

  Having kids is a very humbling experience. The older I get and the older they get, the more disgusting I become. Apparently my breath is often foul. My hair is always fuzzy. My arms are too hairy. All of my tiny scars, unsightly blemishes, discolored spots, zits, hairs, bumps and lumps are glaringly obvious and hideously barf-inducing. I never realized what a completely foul creature I really am.

But I suppose it's balanced out by the many years of pure adoration where I smelled like roses and didn't have a single flaw (at least in the ducklings eyes.)

Every time I'm told how disgusting that stray hair is, or how gross that chicken pox scar is I just mentally add it to the scales in my head. So far, the 'you-are-the-most-awesome-person-in-the-world-who-can-do-no-wrong' side of the scale is still very much outweighed by the 'you-are-the-most-disgusting-and-annoying-person-in-the-world'. But the teen years are yet to come so that could rapidly change.

Quack!

Say Hello

  This is one of the family's pet llamas. Cute little gal isn't she? We have a lot of them in house and they pop up all over the place at unexpected times, singing, dancing, recreating commercials, sneezing, and just being all around fun. 

 Say hello.

Quack!

Birthday Bliss

Way back on my birthday I got one of those gifts that the family knew I would love, but also benefited them. I barely had the box unwrapped when the kids tore it out of my hands and proceeded to use it. It was a whoopie pie maker. You know what whoopie pies are right? Those delicious little cake-like cookies made into little frosting sandwiches. Yes, those. Yum!

Snickers whipped up a batch with little help and we all reveled in the birthday bliss.

Both me and the kids have used it several times since - trying out various flavor combinations - chocolate cookies with chocolate frosting, chocolate with vanilla, vanilla with chocolate, vanilla with vanilla, chocolate with marshmallow. We haven't found a bad combination yet.
 
Quack!

Maybe Someday

Sometimes I shop at the Rescue Mission store. If you have the time to sift through all the old, ratty, worn-out stuff, sometimes you can find something nice. You can also find some nicely broken in jeans. Well, I was in there the other day and I was very excited to see some size 4 long jeans. I have trouble finding jeans long enough and the smaller the size, the less likely you are to find them in a tall size. 14 talls are all over the place, but anything under size 10, you're hard pressed to find a tall version. It's either average or short. But there were 3 or 4 different pairs in 4 long. They were in great shape - looked like they had never been worn. I figure that someone bought them new and put them in their closet expecting that they would fit into them some day. You know how that is. "As soon as I lose those 10 pounds . . . ". 

So I bought a pair. Very exciting find!

And maybe someday I'll fit into them.

 Quack!

Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs

  So Snickers came home from a party recently with an awesomely descriptive snack. Now, a normal party bag will have blow pops or pixie sticks, smarties or tootsie rolls or even a chocolate bar on occasion, but this is the first time I ever saw . . .

"Sour Chewy Cubes".

I love that! Sour Chewy Cubes! It reminds me of Calvin and Hobbes "Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs" - Calvin's favorite cereal. It's a very descriptive name. Calvin describes his cereal as "tasty, lip-smacking, crunchy-on-the-outside, chewy-on-the-inside, and they don't have a single natural ingredient or essential vitamin to get in the way of that rich, fudgy taste." Hobbes says it's like "eating a bowl of milk duds".

Well, Sour Chew Cubes are much the same. They are sour. They are chewy. They are cubes. And, as you would expect, there is nothing nutritionally redeeming to them. But the name. Oh the name! Whoever invented these things is a master at subtlety, the king of understated sneakiness. I mean, who would guess from the name that they are sour, or chewy or cube shaped?

I almost want to eat them just because I love the name.

Almost.

Quack!

Now That's One Horny Pony!

So I'm sitting at Cirque du Soleil recently with the family, waiting for the show to start. We had just finished munching on some delightfully sweet pink cotton candy and the kids were having fun with the long white paper cone it had been wrapped around - and by fun I mean poking each other in the eye and bonking each other over the head.

But then it got better - suddenly my ears were filled with song. Here are the lyrics:

Horny pony. I'm a horny pony. Horny pony, la la la la la.

Or something very much like that.

It took me a minute to realize that a horny pony was a unicorn. The paper cone on the forehead gave it away. You know, a pony with a horn. I giggled for quite a few minutes at that one.

Quack!

How's It Goin' Boys?

And for the last photo from our recent outing (I can hear you sighing in relief):

And in celebration of the end of this particular set of posts, I've written a silly haiku:

Leaning back so cool

A sultry pose for a tree

How's it goin' boys?

Quack!