Moves in Curves

The boys were laying in bed telling each other “riddles”.

C: “I have a riddle for you, D. It’s something that is square-rectangle and puffy and white all over and is for little kids. What is it?”

D: “Is it a pepper?”

C, laughing: “No!”

D: “Is it a carrot?”

C: “No.”

D: “Is it a little carrot?”

C: “No.”

D: “Is it a yellow pepper?”

C: “No.”

D: “Is it a strawberry marshmallow?”

C: “You almost got the correct answer, but you got to say it with nothing else.”

D: “Is it a marshmallow?”

C: “Yes!”

(both laugh uproariously)

Some flowers from my yard. Hydrangeas and mimosas. These have grown despite my black thumb, and here’s why:

1. Mimosas are an invasive species.
2. Hydrangeas are mildly poisonous if eaten.

Maybe I should plant a few other toxic plants and see if I can grow those.

…remind me why I am married. Told the husband that running the swamp trail was kinda bothering my knees, or maybe it’s my shoes.

“You don’t have good running shoes?”

Hi, remember me? Your wife who is supercheap? I have $20 Payless sneakers that I bought five years ago. Or more.

“You need to go buy cross trainers. Go to Lady Foot Locker. Nike is the best, buy some Nikes.”

Aww. He really is very thoughtful, he never spares expense on me.

I like to pretend to be scared when the boys, for example, attack me with dragons/dinosaurs/Lego spaceships, and C said to me today after I had been frightened of D’s Lego tank, “You always thinking things are real.”

This morning they played Candyland (stacking the deck) with two of their dragons, and D told me, “We playing for the Gronckle and the Zippleback,” and C added, “Because they not real.”

We went to the beach today, and they had a grand old time for a while, but then it started clouding over and C started getting worried. He kept watching the clouds and saying, “Those clouds coming in awfully fast, Mama.” About ten minutes later (when the Starburst ran out) he decided we needed to leave. “It going to rain. Look at those clouds! Let’s go, Mama. We better go.”

Tonight is the final episode of Lost. First they asked if they could stay up and watch it, because they love the smoke monster. I told them no, they had to go to bed at 7. When bedtime rolled around, I reminded them it was the last episode, so they climbed into bed and D said, “You better go, Mama, so you don’t miss anything,” and C added, “Good night, we love you!”

So my friend Melia, while mocking blog prompts (and rightly so) came up with a few of her own. I’d like to answer this one:

What do you think really happens in the “undisclosed locations” that politicians flee to in times of crisis?

I think it’s pretty clear.