note to self:

trying on swim suits while you've got the blues is not a good idea. ever. 

nor is eating the last of the ben and jerry's in retaliation to the swim suit incident. 

Rx: treadmill  and sunshine

What to wear

I'm a little envious of the trips I see fellow bloggers enjoying or planning or remembering. Steph went to Paris, Design Mom is going to Mexico. Both offering fabulous tips on what-to-pack for such lovely and exotic vacations. But, if your travel plans include a thrilling visit to Idaho between now and June, here is what you'll need:

Big, warm, not-necessarily-cute boots.  Traction, warmth, and water-proofing really say "style" in this locale.  Stilettos this time of year will only invite mockery. And likely injury. 

Thermal underwear.  Which can double as pajamas, because if you have to pack those boots, there won't be room for much else.

Vaseline.  Your average body lotion is useless; you'll need industrial strength moisturizing against the refreshing arctic breezes. 

Cozy hat. Really cozy. Fashion statement optional. 

ATV or Snowmobile. Everybody has one, or both. Everybody. For getting from point A to point B, snow removal, or for pulling sleds full of children through the neighborhood.  So, you might as well arrive in style. 

Friendliness. 

When in Rome? If you want to blend in with the locals, be nice. And carry a tool of some kind. Folks around here are friendly, and they all know how to build stuff and fix stuff and live off the land and stuff like that. 

I never imagined

warning: graphic content below. tame stuff if you have toddlers. not so tame otherwise. 

A sentence I never imagined uttering, and certainly never imagined uttering without so much as blinking an eye:

"B, could you pick up that nugget of poop by the door while I scrub over here?"

The circumstances behind this sentence (I'll spare you) prompted B to support my desire to potty train M, which led to doing something I never (never ever) imagined doing:

Sitting outside a bathroom door with B, listening for the sounds of, er, success from within where M sat on his throne because he said he needed to, well, you know. There he sat, and there we sat with bated breath, for 15 minutes, hoping against hope to hear a tell-tale ker-plop. 

And hear it we did. B knocked on the door (M demands privacy in this matter) to which M answered: "Cleaning!"   Wrong answer, kiddo. 

What did we discover upon opening the door? M had wrangled one leg inside the toilet bowl  and was "cleaning" said toilet with his foot. Proudly. Luckily, in this instance, there had not been any kind of, um, success prior to the foot entering the toilet. I suppose I should be proud that he's seen me clean toilets enough (with a scrubber, NOT my feet) to imagine doing it with his tootsies? 

need a post-olympics giggle?

click here

Mansion. Apartment. Shack. House.

Remember playing MASH from way back when? Apparently there is an  online version.

Perfect activity for a sleepless night.  

thanks for sharing, kirsten

In case you were wondering

your = something belongs to you, possession, as in "your new haircut is fabulous"

you're = you are, as in "you're a talented young lady"

their = something belongs to a group of people, possession, as in "that is their new boat"

there = a place or location, as in "put it over there" or "no, I have never been there"

you know, just in case you were wondering

such a kidder

my husband, B, is an amputee. Specifically, he's missing most of his left pinky finger. Not much in the big picture of amputations. I rarely notice and it's never bothered me. His lack of finger has come in handy in his line of work: he teaches adolescents.  In past years the loss of his precious pinky has been attributed to nose picking, freak farm accidents, slammed car doors (he actually let a date believe she had slammed the door on his finger...), paper-cutters, ("my sixth grade teacher slammed my finger in the paper cutter because I wouldn't stop talking in class" he says), an Amazon pirhana (note: he's never been anywhere near the Amazon), and so on. And today, he managed to traumatize half a dozen neighbor kids with a good look at what's left of his finger. 

While enjoying our nightly evening stroll with M, we stopped to chat with Miss Joy, in whose yard the neighbor kids had congregated. Ages 5-10ish. They had all turned their bikes upside down and were spinning the tires around as fast as the could. Miss Joy, an experienced mother, sensed potential injuries and asked them to stop. No avail. B rose to the occasion and said "Look! This is what happens to kids that spin their bike tires around like that!" Naturally curious, the kids swarmed him to observe his hand and quickly stepped backward, wide-eyed and panic stricken. One managed a look of total perplexity. It really was quite funny. Silently, they picked up their bikes and rode off down the street, periodically cruising by very slowly trying to get another peek at B's mutant pinky. I'm certain they've all been traumatized. We had a good laugh at their expense. Parents, please forgive my husband. He means well. 

What really happened to the finger? It's a long and uninteresting story. Leave it to the imagination.

giggle giggle, ahem

Since we are new to this area, we've recently selected new physicians.  B has a new-patient visit tomorrow morning with our selected GP, and the office sent over a packet of paperwork/questionnaires to be filled out  prior to this visit. Standard questions, you know, like family health history, immunizations, current concerns There is a list of male-specific problems which are to be marked if the patient has ever experienced them. Forgive me for being rather indelicate here, but one of the items on the list reads exactly like this:

Testicle (balls) trouble

Does this strike anyone else as first of all, humorous, but also a little strange? Maybe it's just a nod to the rather rural communities around us, but, still...