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Our sentence to finish this week is "My bucket list includes..."
Well, my bucket list includes my daily to-do lists. If I can get just one to-do list done, I'll be doing cartwheels all over the yard to celebrate.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I don't set goals and I don't make plans. I am too lazy for that sort of thing. I simply do whatever comes my way. Fortunately, my husband is a fastidious planner. He has lots of goals and is going to take me along with him.
His bucket list includes things such as "travel all over the world". Unfortunately, these things he has planned can't happen until our nest is empty, and with our youngest only being three, it's going to be a long, long time before that happens.
I guess my bucket has more than air.
My bucket list includes live long enough, with sound mind and body, to actually enjoy the things COW has planned for us.
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The night was supposed to be bliss. COW had the oldest 5 children at a pro soccer game downtown last night (game time was 8:00). I was home with early-to-bed Cuckoo. I had grand plans of paying the bills, getting some posts written, and half-way watching Project Runway.
I sat down at the computer, typed in blogger.com, and got the notice that THE SITE WAS NOT RESPONDING!!! I tried again. No luck. I tried nbofi.com (the bank). I couldn't get on that either. I tried facebook (Did you know I was on Facebook?) and managed to get that. I got on a couple of other blogs, which I could read but not comment, and went back to blogger. I couldn't get on.
I did all the things I knew to do when confronted with this problem. (I restarted the computer.) No luck.
When COW and the kids got home at 11:00 (Yeah, Turken got home at 11:00. This morning has the potential to be treacherous.), I was still in my cycle of type blogger, not get in, scream, type blogger, not get in, scream, restart computer, type in blogger, not get in, scream, send a panicky message to Lizzi on FB, type in blogger, not get in, scream, send a tad more panicky message to Dyanne, type in blogger, not get in, scream...
My family,waving their giant Chelsea flags they got for free, did not understand my panic. They did not show an ounce of empathy. They weren't impressed that the only thing I had to show for my evening alone is the knowledge that the guy I thought should leave really did get the Heidi Klum "You're out."
Yes, they can be jerks sometimes.
I finally went to bed, a tad worried that I didn't pay the bills, and fully annoyed that I couldn't write a post.
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I got up at 6:30 this morning, crossed my fingers, and turned the computer on. Guess what? Internet is back to normal. Bills are paid. And I can rush through and write a terrible post for today.
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With the big kids all going with COW, I knew I had to pull out something big for Cuckoo to do in order to avoid 3 hours of "I want to go with Daaaaaaadddddyyyyyy!!!!"
We had a date. I found out that he is a crappy date, offending me every step of the way.
For example, in the middle of dinner, he said, "I like Daddy better than you."
(I asked for a reason, and he responded, "Daddy doesn't put me in the corner very much." (Daddy and I will be having a chat.))
After dinner we stopped at the restroom. He was "going" and there was music playing on the speakers. I was dancing a bit, because I can't not dance when the song is telling me to. He laughed and said, "That is not how you dance."
I told him, if he was so smart, to get off the toilet and show me how.
To translate, his dance was called "Fancy Song".
For the record, I think my dance was a whole lot fancier. (No, there is no video. The only person who could have recorded it was a three year old sitting on the toilet.)
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Next on the date agenda was a trip to the store to buy his new bike. His birthday is still three weeks away, but I needed something big. You may be thinking, "Won't he be disappointed when his birthday gets here and he doesn't get anything?"
Normally, yes. Except the only thing he asked for is a jar of Nutella. He'll get his Nutella and be happy, happy, happy.
When one buys a bike for an almost four year old, one must give the almost four year old a chance to ride it, even if it is past his bedtime.
You'll remember I live on a farm, and we have a gravel drive. We don't ride bikes at home.
Fortunately, I have friends who live in a normal neighborhood.
When I was one minute away, I called my friend Mrs. Always Random, and basically told her to get out of her pajamas, 'cause I was bringing Cuckoo over to ride his bike. (Yes, she was in her pajamas at 8:00. No, she won't be annoyed that I told you that. (I'm pretty sure. (Aren't you glad you don't live in the Indianapolis area and have to endure being my IRL friend?)))
I tried to get a photo of Cuckoo with Mrs. Always Random and her house in the background, but as I was taking it she said, "Don't you dare put me in this picture!" It's hard having friends who have blogs. They can read your mind, and they rarely use it for the good of your own blog.
|That's my car. That's her house. Notice, you don't see her. She's off to the right, yelling at me.|
|Apparently, having your tongue out is imperative to getting your bike up over the curb and onto the driveway.|
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Earlier this week, while eating lunch, I bit the side of my tongue. Hard. Blood poured. Swear words may have been uttered.
At dinner that night, it was still bothering me, and when I went to eat, it really hurt. I was bummed, seeing as how we were having a yummy Shepherd's pie.
(Side note: If you were following me on FB, you'd know where the name Shepherd's pie comes from, and you'd know that Cuckoo had an absolute fit at dinner. When it was placed in front of him, he started screaming, "This is NOT pie!!" and wouldn't let up. Seems he heard me tell someone what we were having for dinner, and he honestly thought I had lost my mind and was going to give them some sort of sugary goodness for dinner.)
On the upside, I thought, "Well, I've gained about 5 pounds in the last couple weeks. If I can't eat, at least I'll lose some weight."
I was thinking of funny things to post about my new weight loss plan and how I was going to get filthy rich off of it.
But then I got hungry.
Turns out, I'll choose eating Hershey Kisses in absolute pain over not eating at all.
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Our potatoes and tomatoes are ready to harvest, so I've been canning the last two days. If you have any ideas about canning your own veggies, know that it is not an activity for wimps.
Besides the time it takes and the mess it creates, injury does happen.
Canning includes lots of boiling water. I have scalded myself dozens of times.
Canning potatoes involves lots of sharp utensils. I'm currently sporting two Band-aids. One on the tip of my right pointer finger, where I cut myself with the potato peeler, and one on the bottom of my left pointer finger, where I got a blister (which popped soon after) from cutting the potatoes into 1-inch cubes.
I'm a hot mess.
Found out, though, that I would rather blog in absolute pain than not blog at all.
Lucky you. :)
Don't forget to come back and link up with our 10 Things of Thankful this weekend!
Have a lovely day!