Baptism By Fire

Actually, my most recent baptism was by water. In the pool. Performed by Darby. I figured it was okay since she doesn't hold the proper authority, but I'm going to feel really bad for all of you if when we get there we find out that she actually does hold some type of authority.

I didn't encourage it, for any reader who is feeling particularly judgey today. She just did it, with her hand in the air and said, "We love Darby." Then she dunked me. And I felt strange; powerful.

Just kidding.

I did take the opportunity to teach a lesson or two, in case anyone thinks I'm going to hell for allowing it. Then again, I've been baptized twice, so I don't really think that I can go to hell, sucka!

The Grudge

When I am finally debilitated by my multiple sclerosis, wearing a diaper and being pushed around in a wheelchair, I'm going to remind Darby of the comment she made to me today.

"Mom, that dinner was disgusting. And so are you."

For real? That hardly felt necessary.

And THAT is why I am going to lay the guilt on her as thick as I can. I'll follow that story up with the one about the 71 hours of labor that I suffered to bring her into this world. Then I might fall out of my wheelchair and fake my death for a few days, just to drive the point home.

I'm going to title my parenting manual, "Love and Logic? That's Crap." What do you think?

(for the record, i'll probably actually just cry about it later. please tell me your kids are mean to you, too!)

Pay It Forward

That's right. This is the worst movie EVER. So, the kid dies? For real? I fracking hate this movie. And YOU...why didn't you warn me?

Inalienable Rights

Happy 4th of July! We spent the day as any red-blooded American would have; swimming and eating ourselves into a hot-dog coma. Of course, we came to just in time to eat apple pie, but went right back to our comatose state for the rest of the day. It was glorious.

We all know that I don’t do hamburgers. I have a strong aversion to hamburgers (except for In and Out) and the thought of squishing that gooey, sticky flesh in my precious hands to form them into patties sends my hand-washing OCD into freaking overdrive. But hot-dogs---now THOSE are something worthy of our founding fathers' assertion to the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

What I want to point out right now is the different calibers of hot-dogs. I stick only with Ball Park and Nathan’s. Those of you who brave Bar S dogs, well, I just don’t know what to make of you. Anyway, my theory is that we eat Ball Park hot-dogs mostly because of the heart-attack risk of Nathan’s hot-dogs. Once we’ve eaten Ball Park dogs until we are so full we want to die, we then indulge in Nathan’s hot-dogs, welcoming the probability of cardiac arrest. Man, those are delicious hot-dogs. Their taste is unparalleled in the hot-dog sphere. And when you bite in and scalding grease shoots into the back of your throat, you know you’ve got a good one. And some form of bypass in your future.

What is your dog of choice and how did you spend your 4th? (and no disrespect to the founding fathers and all those who fought for their freedom---I am fond of and grateful for those rights.)