DNA on GWB

As we watch our all-time favorite US president wiggle out of another impeachable offense, I find a certain Douglas Adams quote both fitting and chillingly accurate:

Anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.

A Moral Unlike Asop's

This is a story with a moral. And, unlike Asop, I will do you a favor and tell you the moral of this story right up front:

Before you give clothes away to charity, check the pockets.

It's a simple enough warning.

One wouldn't want to accidentally leave a valuable item in the pocket. A priceless broach, a favorite watch, a cell phone, cash. It would be a shame to lose any of these things.

But on the other end of the spectrum, one wouldn't want to leave something that might upset or disgust the individual on the receiving end. Who would want to find a dirty old tissue or a used candy bar wrapper in the pocket?

What if you gave away the ugliest shirt in your husband's closet, and by extension, unwittingly donated to charity his favorite novelty sex toy located in the breast pocket?

When you found out what you did, would you be embarrassed or find it really funny?

I'd have to say the latter. Not that I'd know anything about it...

Heard From the Back Seat Last Night

Benjy: "I spy something that is white."
Frankie: "The snow."
B: "Right!"
F: "That's lame. I spy something that's annoying."
B (with a large smile): "Me?"
F: "You guessed it."
B: "I spy something that is stinky."
F: "Dad?'
B: "Right!"
F: "This is so lame, I'm not playing anymore."
B: "I spy something that is grumpy."
F: (No response).
B: "Hello?"

What have we done?

We just sold our house today. Well, officially, it will be sold after 7:30 tonight when we sign the papers. Yippee! Kind of. The house sold way faster than we thought it would (6 days on the market), so we are without a home as of January 3rd! It looks like we're going to build, so we'll be living in temporary accommodations for the next four or five months. Should be interesting.

Wish me luck! Now, I've got to go pack (and finish shopping for Christmas).

The Litmus Test

I thought I looked pretty good when I peered in the bedroom mirror. Sure, I wish the control top could have controlled a bit more. And wouldn't it be nice if my arms were a tidge more toned? But all in all, I thought I didn't look too bad.

Arthur said I looked nice. I thought it must be true because he kept grabbing at me. That's always nice for the ego.

I knew it was true, though, when I walked down the stairs and my five year old daughter drew her breath in and said, "Mommy, you look beautiful!" I have failed her litmus test in the past. She's like the Russian skating judge at the Olympics. Getting a 10 from her is an accomplishment.

So, off I went. Happily assured in the fact that I looked at least as good as Christmas Barbie.