Monday, June 30, 2008

I love apples. Really, I do. But, after spending more than four hours peeling, coring, slicing, spicing, canning and cooling more than 10 lbs of apples, my love-affair is turning a bit sour.
We have jars and jars of apple pie filling, apple jelly, cinnamon-apple ice cream topping, apple slices, etc. If the world's food supply ever disappears, the Edens will be living on apples.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

My son and I were talking the other day about people we would like to meet when we go to heaven. God. Jesus. A whole lot of people from the scriptures. I said that I would like to meet Peter from the New Testament.

My son answered, "You mean Peter as in 'Peter, James and Grant'?"

Peter, James and GRANT? Grant?

Time to do a New Testament refresher course.

Monday, June 23, 2008

It was one of those days yesterday. I discovered that my daughter has been listening to at least some of the things I say. And there are a few things that have yet to get through to her. I'll explain...

We were sitting at church and I was ignorantly congratulating myself on how well behaved my children were being. In the pew behind us was a lady I hadn't seen before, and I hadn't had a chance to meet her yet. My daughter, in a whisper loud enough to be heard asked me, while looking over my shoulder at the unknown woman, "Who is that lady behind us?"

"I don't know," I said.

Then my daughter gave her a look one might normally give to a convict or a particularly vile insect. In a voice worthy of The Exorcist she whispered - again, loudly enough to be clearly heard by most people nearby, "You're a stranger!"

So much for "Everyone is welcome at Church."

I have spent a lot of time during her short life apologizing to people. (Sigh)

Monday, June 16, 2008

What is it about the vast openness of a parking lot, be it entirely empty or excruciatingly full, that triggers bouts of insanity in the general driving public?
Even the most logical of people seem to view the parallel, orderly lanes as an opportunity to drive diagonally in an attempt to run over as many parking lines as possible. Perhaps we ought to reinstate the "step on a crack, break your momma's back" rule that worked so well on sidewalks when we were children; only apply it to driving over lines.
I'm preparing a petition to have signs posted at all parking lot entrances -

WARNING: The Surgeon General has determined that entering parking lots may lead to elevated blood pressure, permanent tire tread markings on exposed limbs and temporary mental illness.

My plan is to stand outside a Library with a clipboard and pen asking unsuspecting patrons to sign in support of my plan. Of course, I'll probably never make it past the parking lot.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

I drive a small car. Not a Mini or a super compact car, but a small car. I was at the gas station the other day filling up. I'd put it off as long as possible, hoping to make it until payday. As I was standing there watching the gas pump tick off the dollars, I felt my jaw dropping. DROPPING! Like I said, I drive a small car. Small gas tank. It doesn't even hold very much gas.

The grand total? Just over $50. Yikes.

Just as the tears of economic disappointment began to fall, I overheard the driver just across the way speaking to yet another gas victim. This driver owns a motor home and spends the summer driving around visiting his kids and grandkids and he had just filled up a couple days earlier. It took more than one fill-up because the pump wouldn't go above $75. His motor home has a 100 gallon gas tank.

The grand total for that guy? $380.

I felt a little better after that.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

So I was reading through one of my books recently and came across a typo. This is not entirely unheard of, but proved far more entertaining than usual. It was not a missing comma nor was it a simple misspelling. No. It was far better (or worse, depending on how you look at it.)

"genteel, well-mannered and kind" the phrase should have read. Instead it went like this...

"genteel, well-manured and kind"

Well-manured? Not sure I want to know what that means.

Monday, June 2, 2008

So I was sitting at swimming lessons this morning in what little shade could be found, fanning myself with a beach towel and I thought to myself, "Only in Arizona in summer would this be completely normal." Which got me thinking, there are certain things we see or do or smell in Arizona that announce the start of summer. Here are a few I thought of...

The clearance racks at any given retailer are filled with long pants, long sleeve shirts and the scarfs and mittens that never got sold.

You drink from a bottle of water left in the car and the water literally burns your mouth. Tasty. (Done that. Recently.)

You drive with your elbows because the steering wheel is too hot to touch.

Women in bikini tops and Daisy Dukes at the grocery store.

Children everywhere.

Any excuse to visit a mall, movie theatre, library (any place with air conditioning you don't have to pay for) is seen as valid and binding.

The sound of the soles of your feet burning to a blackened crisp when you walk barefoot to the mailbox.

The list could go on.

Ahh.... Summer!


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