How to Eat a Cinnamon Roll

People, I am obsessed with food. Now, don't get confused. I am not a foodie. I don't have to shop organic. I have no qualms with gluten. Sugar is my beloved. Carbohydrates are my friends. And I'd probably rather eat my hat than shell out $50 for a plate at some fancy eatery.

What I am referring to is yummy, scrumptious, make-you-happy food. The food dreams are made of. You know what I'm talking about? Gingerbread. Chicken and dumplings. Soup beans. Corn bread. Fried Taters. Bacon. Pancakes. Cheesy fries. Giant burritos. Donuts. Fried chicken. Fried apple pies. Anything fried. Coconut cake.

The food of your fondest memories. And that, my dear friends, is what brings me to this post. My latest food obsession is creating meals and memories for my children. Right now, all they eat is chicken nuggets and rice and beans, but I am still thinking about what they'll be eating when they're a little bigger. What will they miss most when they go to college? "I can't wait to get home and have Mom make me some of her lasagna or a big pot of skyline!" Will they associate blueberry pancakes with Christmas morning? Will the smell of goetta frying instantly send them back to 125 Wallace? What yummy goodness will be their 'Beetle's vegetable soup'?

Whatever it may be, I hope that it brings as much joy to Jonas as his first cinnamon roll did.

How to Eat a Cinnamon Roll, by Jonas G.

Unhinge jaw.

Insert roll.

That's it. Really shove it in there.

Might seem painful, but trust me, this is
the only way to eat a cinnamon roll.

Close your mouth and chew.

*Not pictured: after inhaling your cinnamon roll, take your brother's.

Brother Fight

It's been awhile since I've posted about a brother fight (or anything at all for that matter). This brother fight is sure to make you laugh, and maybe evoke sympathy for a little dude who is usually the instigator of such rumbles: Jonas.

The fight of the day is brought to you buy a dishwasher box, a club house so cool it simply cannot be shared.

When I was taking these pictures, I actually thought the dudes were playing. Upon review, they clearly were not.

A Lot of Screaming

I refuse to add photos of snakes.

Yesterday morning I awoke around 8 o'clock. I went to the bathroom to get ready for the day. I grabbed my toothbrush and walked out, brushing my teeth, to find my clothes. I went back into the bathroom and began picking up dirty towels to take downstairs to wash. I picked up one towel. And there it was. There it was! There it was!! Just looking at me.

 A SNAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

People, there was a snake in my second floor bathroom (in my bedroom). I freaked the (expletive deleted) out! I screamed bloody murder. I am sure the whole neighborhood heard me. I screamed and covered my ears and closed my eyes and shook my head and screamed some more. Poor Doug jumped out of the bed. "What's the matter?!" THERE IS A SNAKE IN THE BATHROOM!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! THERE IS A SNAKE IN THE BATHROOM!!!!!! Mass hysteria ensued. I cried, I screamed, I cried some more. I felt something crawling on my stomach from within my shirt and clawed at my skin (it was nothing but my crazed brain at work). I saw something crawling out from under the bed (again, nothing but delirious imaginations). I screamed when Doug looked at me and asked for the hamper bag to transport the snake in downstairs. I screamed when he walked by me with the snake bag. I cried some more, and I screamed a few more times. I declared that we were selling the house. "We can't sell? Fine. It has to go up in flames! How can I live like this? What if it had slithered into the boys' room and eaten my children? We have got to move.  We need to move now."

After about 20 minutes of intense manic fits, and Doug continually saying, "Allison, you need to

calm down," I finally calmed down enough to go get the boys out of their beds and take them downstairs.

I was greeted downstairs by my jerk of a cousin, Codar, who laughed and mocked me. When I

"A bat, a snake, what's next? A possum?" Why would
you ask such things, Omie?

asked Doug what he had done with that evil serpent, he said, "I gave it to Cody." I knew then and there that Mr. Nature let that stupid thing live.Why did he not kill it? "Oh, Allison. It was just a little garter snake. It's harmless." (By the way, I just had to google "garter snake" because to me, it always sounds like people are saying, "gardener snake," and I had to confirm the name before I posted. Anyway, I had to see the image of that spawn of satan on my computer screen and it just about sent me into fits again.)

Carol came over a bit later. She also laughed. "You're not very in tune with nature."

Carol is 100% correct. To quote the great philosopher, Kurt Cobain, "Nature is a whore." Nature sucks and so does her evil creatures. I didn't think snakes got in your house when you lived in the city. Criminently! 

People, I hate snakes (more than Indiana Jones hates snakes). I hate them the most when they are in my house. I hate them the mostest when they are in my house, in my bedroom, in my second floor bathroom. How in sam hill did that creature get in there? I am going to stop right there, folks. We are not going to analyze it anymore. It happened and it is over. We must move on and never discuss this topic again. I am going to be ill!

The wild day didn't end there!!!!!!

No, sir. Let me tell you what else happened. I was downstairs watching my beautiful, innocent babies playing on their iPads. Yes, it is true, I hate the iPads, but I am t-minus 5 weeks away from giving birth and do not have as much energy as I usually have, thus, iPad usage has increased over this past week. Anyway, the boys have some very nifty games on those suckers, and you would be amazed at how skillful they already are. Little tech geniuses like their Dad. 

So, they're on the couch playing Endless Alphabet (one of their favorite games) having a good ole time. Then I hear a song/muttering that I do not recognize. I go over and snatch the iPad from Jonas. Guess what he's watching. Two chicks in the shower together. X-rated business, folks. My son's mind is already corrupt. He had used his little precious toddler finger to navigate over to the Netflix app, open up Orange is the New Black, and watch himself some naked ladies. Lord have mercy! Parental controls commence! 

Growing Up Too Fast

They used to be so little!

I've been wanting to write a post lately about what all my boys are up to now that they're 2. This is not that post. Someday, it'll get written. Hopefully, before they're 3. You all know I still haven't started their baby books.

For this post, I want to share 2 stories from my Tuesday at home with the boys. Two stories that show they are growing up way too fast for my liking. 

Jonas (aka Jonasty aka Joe Bear)

This morning Jonas picked out what he

The Bear.

wanted to wear. I was in the living room putting shoes on Julian when he came in carrying a shirt. He handed the shirt to me and said, "Mmmmon!!" Which in Jonas and Julian language translates to Monster Truck. Sure enough he had brought me a Monster Truck tshirt. I took it from him and set it aside, thinking he'd just go on about his business. Nope. He grouched at me and grabbed his shirt, "Mmmmon!!" Then he started tugging at his little pajamas shirt trying to get it off. So, I took off his pajamas and put his Monster Truck tshirt on; he was all smiles.

Julian (aka Cruelian aka Jules)

We went to the park today. The boys always have such a great time being outside and romping around on slides and such. Julian's favorite activity at this particular park (and let's be honest, at every park) is the tube slide. He goes up and down a hundred times. Never gets tired of it. Today, at his slide, their was a cute little girl playing. She was running around and screaming. Whenever the dudes see kids running and screaming, they join right in the hooplah. So, when this little girl popped out at the bottom of the slide and screamed with glee, Julian did the same. She took off to slide again, and he followed. He turned around, looked at me smiling, waved, and said, "Bye. See you." People, I am not kidding. He almost broke my heart.

Julian super coolian.

Prayer Request

People, tonight when you crawl into bed and say your nighttime prayers, think of me and Doug. The terrible 2s (times 2 plus 1 infant on the way) are upon us. Yesterday, I got a sneak peak of what may be in store for our future.

The boys' room is upstairs, so when they wake up, I get them out of their cribs, and they walk downstairs. Used to, I'd carry them, but they've turned into little hoss cats (a biggun, for those of you who do not speak hillbilly) and I can no longer do that. Not to mention, my ever growing belly and my ever lack of grace, are also impediments.

So anyhow, the boys now walk down the stairs by themselves (or more accurately, scoot on their butts). Well, yesterday morning Jonas (as his alter ego JoNASTY) decided that he wanted to be carried. Ladies and gentlemen, a darkness then inhabited my child and the demon cut a shine (translation: threw a fit) the likes of which I had never seen. You should've heard the noises coming out of this kid. I swear it was straight up Regan MacNeil. I wouldn't have been surprised if he would've flipped upside down and spider walked down the stairs. 

He sounded like Lucifer was using him as his vessel, and he looked like he was doing some weird break dancing maneuver on the landing.

He woke up his dad. 

I gave up and went on downstairs with Julian, left that mess with Doug. 

Jules and I were sitting on the floor, playing with cars, drinking milk and eating muffins, watching

The Bear after he had calmed down. Look at that face!

GEORGE! (Curious George), and having a good ole time. In the background, we could hear Jonasty still protesting having to come downstairs on his own; however, he had made it to the second landing. Progress. The ole hateful thing finally made it to the living room where us happy folks were already enjoying our morning. He sniffled a bit, and then crawled into my lap (this is where he tries to make you forget what he just did), looked up at me, and smiled. Rotten kid.

But honestly, what the hell are you supposed to do to stop such outbursts? I don't know other than to pray they stop! 

It's a Girl!

Yeah, yeah, I realize this is old news to most everyone on the planet who knows me, but maybe someone out there in blog world doesn't know that I am having a little girl! She's going to make things interesting around here (cause you know, they're so incredibly dull as is).

Three important things we've already discussed:

• She will come into the world a proud owner of a vintage (circa 1986) University of Kentucky Wildcats cheerleading outfit, once worn by yours truly.
• Doug told me that I had to be the one to give her the talk about her menstrual cycle. Why on earth he thought I would let him deliver that speech, I will never know. "Uh, you see, daughter, once a month some stuff will happen with your girl stuff. I don't want to talk about it, but it happens. I just thought I'd let you know. It's not a big deal, but women act like it is. You know how they are."
• Dacian already feels sorry for future boys who Baby Girl will bring home to meet Dad. The poor boy will first have to be vetted by 2 older brothers. If he is strong enough to withstand that, he will meet Daddy Doug. This classic quote from Cher's Dad in Clueless comes to mind: Anything happens to my daughter, I've got a .45 and a shovel. I doubt anybody will miss you.

I love that I am 22 weeks pregnant and she's already a teenager.

A Morbid Topic

I hate these a-holes.

I've always believed that I would die at the hands of a vehicle. Maybe I crash, maybe some moron crashes into me, either way, the ending will not be good. Or, even worse, and those of you who know me, saw this one coming: I am murdered by some piece of junk some redneck has loaded into the back of his Jed Clampett truck and secured with a shoestring. The shoestring snaps and his scrap-metal flies through my windshield and rips my head off. Immediate death.

And now you see why I hate to drive.

The death car.

Today, I thought I was going to die at the hands of a vehicle. It wasn't being driven by anyone. It was on the steps going down to my bathroom. Yes, this pointy Matchbox Land Rover was sitting on the second step of five just waiting to destroy me. My children must've set this death trap. Here I go, running down the stairs (which is never a good idea), barefoot (also not a good idea), and feel the pierce of doom. I scream a profanity (sorry, children, but you brought it on yourselves) and hold on to the railing for dear life. Luckily, by the grace of God (because we all know I have no grace), I was able to recover and not bust my rump or head. I live! I live!

Target Trip

Because we like to get out and ramble, the boys and I usually take a Target trip once a week. This is probably not good for the bank account, but we always have a fun time. The boys can really put away some popcorn. Anyway, thought I'd share a few fun pictures from today's adventure.

This is how excited and happy they get when you say, "Hey, boys, want to go bye-bye? Come on, we'll get some popcorn and a hotwheels."

Julian in blue, Jonas in green.

The boys will be two on July 19. They are getting big! So big that it is finally time to turn their carseats around to front-facing position. Today was their first ride facing forward. I think they liked it.

Wow! The van has a TV!

Target, I discovered over the weekend (yes, we were just there on Sunday, don't judge), has these nifty buggies that can haul 2 babies at once. Sweet!

Had to get 'em a pack of cars. They don't have any at home, you see.

They are good little travelers.

Waiting until they get home to open their cars, cause they're good dudes.

Tuesdays and Thursdays rule.

210 Days til Christmas

June is just 3 days away and today has been the first time since December that I have listened to Christmas music. I know what you are thinking--WHAT?! I can hardly believe it myself, but it is true. Winter and I did not have a good relationship this year. Winter was a brutal, horrid thing that lingered on for far too long. In protest of Winter the Jerk, I (read: Doug) took down my Christmas tree, snowmen, and all holiday decor uncharacteristically early this year. I thought by leaving them up I was somehow egging Winter on, and it really needed to leave. I mean, do you remember that mess? The 20 below 0 days! Ugh, unbelievable. Anyway, now that it's 70 degrees in the mornings, and I am fairly confident that Winter is actually over, when Old Blue Eyes started crooning, "I'll Be Home for Christmas" this morning, I let that tune run, baby. It was nice. Got my yuletide cheer brewing. I mean, there are only 210 days til Christmas. Plus, this Christmas I'll, ahem, Santa, will have another little one to spoil.

Speaking of my spoiled children, I just want you to know what happens to your purse when you have 2

rotten boys you haul around. Remember when your purse used to hold lipstick (okay, so chapstick is basically the same thing, right?), tampons (eeek, men can't read the T word), breath mints, and your wallet? Well, move over useful junk, make way for the new contents of Mama's purse: hot wheels and chocolate chip mini muffins. Who needs that wallet anyway? With two babies, you never have any money!

I'll leave you with a Dwarf story.

I saw a friend's facebook status this morning and was reminded of this little memory Beetle shared with me a couple weekends ago:
When your uncle was a little boy, he told me, "Mother, when I get older, I am going to marry you." I told him, "Honey, we don't marry our mothers." And he snapped back, "Well, I'll marry Mommaw then. I'm getting me a woman who can cook!"

A Boy or a Girl?

I do not yet know the gender of the little person growing in my belly. I will soon find out, but until then, I will keep fielding the question--Do you want a boy or a girl?

The gender of the babe does not matter to me. I just want a healthy baby! That being said, I do think about scenarios wherein I have another boy or our first girl.

Another boy.

• I will be severely outnumbered.
• My life will be full of farts, wiener and number 2 jokes, fist fights, filth, and the general chaos that comes with little boys. 
• I think little brother might have a rough life dealing with 2 older brothers who will most likely double team him in the distribution of noogies and wedgies (I assume kids still do that. I gave the boys a noogie each today. Maybe I shouldn't introduce them to such shenanigans already.)
• Despite their wild ways, little boys sure do love their Mamas. So, I will get plenty of hugs and kisses, and will always be the most loved, even if Dad and Uncle Dacian let them play countless hours of video games.
• Lastly (as far as this list is concerned), I will pretty much be set on clothes. Baby Boy #3 would come into this world with an impressive wardrobe waiting on him. 

A girl.

• Let's face it. Basically most everything from the list above will be the same with a girl. The only difference is, I will get to buy cute little shirts with kitty cats on them and pink converse. Any girl I have, especially with two big brothers, is bound to be a tom boy. I will have to hear the fart and wiener jokes regardless. Perhaps she will join me in eye rolling once the boys start up, or you know, maybe she'll join right in, you never can tell. 

Brittany and Julian. Too cool for school.

This reminds me of my cousins Curtis and Brittany. When Curtis was a little dude, his Mama was going to have a baby. Curt was pretty sure that baby was going to be a brother. Even when they told him she was going to be a sister, he didn't believe it. Even after Brittany was born and Mommaw was telling him, your sister has arrived, Curtis said, "It could be a brother." He was so distraught about having a sister. She certainly wouldn't play cars with him or fish with him, she probably wouldn't even be able to catch crawdads. So, to put his little mind at ease, Tashia (his older cousin) did something that to this day blows my mind. Tashia, the woman who calls me on the phone to tell me a wasp is in her house, Tashia, the woman who called her Grandpa to come and get rid of a lizard on her steps before she would exit the house, this very woman went into the creek with little Glenn Curtis and caught crawdads. She had to prove to him that girls could catch crawdads and that his little sister could do whatever a little brother could do. I think Britt has definitely shown ole Curt she can run with the boys.

Another Random Post

People, I've done something to anger the higher beings for I have had Enrique Iglesias's I Need to Know stuck in my head for the past few days. How did that even happen? Where did I hear this horrendous song? Worse, was it just stuck in my subconscious all these years waiting to break free? I don't even know the lyrics. All I know is, "If it's true don't leave me all alone out here wondering if you're ever gonna take me there. Tell me baby girl, cause I need to know. I need to know. I need to know. Tell me baby girl, cause I need to know." I wonder if these are even correct. I would look up the video on youtube but I cannot do that to myself. UNLESS, maybe if I listen to the song completely, it will finally exit my brain? That's an experiment I'm not willing to conduct, folks. Not now. Not on the verge of sleepdom. I don't want to be caught in that zone between being awake and being asleep, and having Enrique sing to me over and over, the same freaking lyrics, which probably aren't even correct. MAKE IT STOP!

In other news, I heard this story on NPR (Doug loves when I start a conversation like that) that claimed

Julian and Jonas enjoying strawberries at Sam's.

people are more stressed at home than they are at work. Evidently some broad and a group of her friends conducted a study where they swabbed people's mouths at work and at home and tested the saliva for whatever you look for that denotes a high stress level. I can't remember. (That's the thing with these NPR stories, I generally only remember about 1/4 of what was said.) Anyhow, this broad claims that people are actually more stressed out at home than at work. She went on to say that this was true not only for parents, but for folks who had no children. WHAT? There is no way on this earth that my home life pre-babies was more stressful than my work life. How is deciding which show to binge watch on Netflix more exhausting to your mind than figuring out what the heck the pharmacokinetics of so-and-so's drug means when testing said drug in humans? See, just the mention of pharmacokinetics makes me sweat. Pass the popcorn and let's fire up Season 1 of the Sopranos. These people are doing it wrong if their escape is work! Or maybe I need their job. 

Just because it's funny: Jonas trying to eat
Oreo icing while keeping a lanyard in his mouth.

The boys and I went to Sam's today. There we shopped with all the senior citizens who just love them some twin boys. The old ladies love that they are so cute. The old men love that they clutch hot wheels cars in their hands as they chomp on Sam's samples and whatever they can dig out of the shopping cart. Most times, their choice snack is BBQ chips. Today, it was strawberries. Haven't been able to get them to eat a strawberry in a while, but, by golly, today they had to have them. I think they ate about 4 big strawberries each before we made it out of the store. I was wondering if any strawberries would make it home. Crazy critters. We do enjoy our Tuesdays and Thursdays. How can this be more stressful than work?

A Trip to Dwarf, Time Flies, Blueberry Pie, and A Cat for Sale

The boys snuggling at Beetle's.

For Mother's Day, the boys and I headed down to the country. We went to visit Beetle and the gang in Dwarf. We were flying solo, no Daddy Doug. (Hindsight: What the hell was I thinking?!) Now, the trip home is about 3.5 hours. Normally, we don't have any stops. We usually hit a drive-thru for supper, but otherwise, it's a straight shot. Luckily, this was the case on this day, too. I, of course, thought about nothing but having to potty for the whole drive. A pregnant woman tinkles about 1000 times a day. How was I going to make it 3.5 hours without a potty break? What if I HAD to stop? What would I do with the boys? I had it all planned out. I'd hold it til I got to Red River Gorge where I knew the rest stop was clean. Then, I'd strap the boys into their wagon, and haul their rumps in there with me. Luckily, for the sake of us all, I had good bladder control. We made it to Dwarf without incident. Hit up Arby's drive-thru once we got to Hazard, and you would never guess (or maybe you would if you are from a small town) who waited on me. My prom date! He didn't recognize me, and I didn't want to make things awkward, so I just thanked him and moved along. Life is funny.

Anyway, the 4 days at Beetle's were exhausting. I ran after boys from 6am (yes, they decided to wake up

"We're coming for you, Julian!"

extra early to get the fun started) until 8pm. Uncle Bob gave Jonas a hot and spicy pork rind, which, as you can imagine, did not go over well. Oh, and one morning I awoke to hear Julian screaming bloody murder. I went to check on him, and he was staring up at the walls with a complete look of horror on his face. The room in which they sleep is the room of death. Great big buck heads and poor ole fish mounted on every inch of the wall. Poor guy. I bet he thought he was in some sort of wild dream. Woke up to see deer coming for him out of the walls! I've scarred my child for life.

Another thing you should remember when you travel with toddler boys-- they bring with them a lot of toys. These toys generally make a lot of noise. Doug had loaded the van for me the morning before we hit the road, but he forgot to load their scooters, so I tossed them in the back on our way out. I must've thrown them so that they landed wrong-side-up because all the way to Dwarf, if I went around a curve or made a stop, I'd hear the Batmobile rev its engine, followed by a threatening, "IT'S OVER, JOKER!"

After my weekend adventure, I suddenly found myself back at work. Isn't it funny (more like depressing) how that always happens? I was in the break room when a coworker approached me. I asked how he was doing and we exchanged general pleasantries. Then he said this to me, "When you came here, you were a little girl. Now you are a mother and will soon have 3 babies. Time flies!" It is true. I started my job right out of college, a long 8 years ago. And here I am now, an old married woman, mother of 2 boys, and soon to add another to the brood. Time really does fly. It feels like it all happened over night.

Dacian making me a pie!

So, Dacian and I made a blueberry pie the other day, just thought you should know. Actually, it is more accurate to say that Dacian made the pie. We were in the middle of pie making when 2 little dudes awoke from their nap. I had to go upstairs to check on them, and ended up rocking them both back to sleep, only they didn't want to sleep in their cribs, they wanted to sleep on me! There we were, piled to the max, about to break down the ole recliner, all 3 sawing logs.

Anywho, the pie was tasty. Dacian and I were too impatient to let it set. When we got our slices, the pie was more like a cobbler. All the same, it was delicious!







You know, in my last post I was singing the praises of a cat. In this post, I'd like to try to sell one. Actually, he is free. Take him. You want him. You need him

CAT FOR SALE

Yoshi Furoshi the Stink Prince is a obese muscular cat who absolutely abhors adores children. He has been neutered and is declawed, so won't ruin your furniture. Unless he pees on it. Has a small health problem relating to his urinary tract and requires lots of very expensive prescription cat food love. Leave a message in the comments if interested in adopting this young fellow.

Return of the Jedi

Check out Jonas putting out the vibe.

I've been away for awhile, but I'm back. I've mostly been sleeping, eating ice cream, punching Doug, catching up on Game of Thrones...you know, the normal stuff people do after the kids go to bed and you have that tiny but wonderful window of free time.

Some things:

I went to Wal-Mart the other day and I was reminded of two things: 1. I hate Wal-Mart. 2. I hate teenagers.

By now, everyone knows I'm pregnant, right? Well, I've been having some wild pregnancy dreams. You ask, "Allison, how can your dreams get any weirder?" I don't know, but somehow they have. Examples:

• I dreamed I was pregnant with twins. Only, one twin was a giant hershey bar.
• I dreamed that I forgot Doug's birthday and in retaliation, he kicked me and the boys out of our home. He also somehow got me fired from my job. I was an unemployed, homeless, single mother of two. I got into a fight with this homeless broad who wanted one of my babies. "You have two! Don't be selfish! Give me one of those babies!" For the record, that hag went down! And I woke up madder than hell.
• I dreamed that Lorelei Gilmore was my sister, and she had written a hit song and I was to perform this song with her, only I did not know the words. She said, "When it's your turn to sing, you'll know the words, just belt it out. We make $3 every time we sing it." Three whole dollars!
• I dreamed that my Grandma and I had entered a crafting competition and our first event was to design a koala out of cheerios.

I could go on and on, but it only gets worse. I blame the hormones, and maybe the ice cream right before bed.

Do you remember that show where they stuck hidden cameras in people's cars and recorded them singing to

the radio? I think it was on VH1. I was thinking of this show as I drove home from work. If there was a camera in my car and folks were watching and listening to me sing--the horror! the horror! Cruising down 71 in my red station wagon, sporting my Ferris Bueller Raybans, sipping on grape flavored water, grooving and singing to the Reverend Al Green's Let's Stay Together. Folks, I got soul. You should hear me hit those notes, it's like you're riding in the car with Al himself! "Loving you whether times are good or bad, happy or saaad!"

As if this post couldn't get any more random, I am leaving you with this ode.

When they first began to bond.

Ode to Flash Gordon Gastright 

We adopted you when

You were just a tiny cat.

You stole hearts of men,

You killed a disgusting bat.

You're no longer the baby,

You have 2 human brothers.

Julian loves you the most,

His love hurts you, maybe?

His hug probably smothers--

You never whimper, only boast. 

O, Flash Gordon Gastright!

You take torture like a champ.

Your love for Jules is out of sight!

Maybe it's not an entire ode, I'm not John Keats, people. Anyway, you get the point. In the past few days, I have seen Flash Gordon get his tail pulled, get run over by a toddler on a Batmobile, and get smothered with hugs and kisses. Never has that poor cat run away or hissed or done anything but snuggle right back! Why, even when Julian is not around him, Flash will seek him out, crawl up on the couch and sit next to him. What a kitty!

Lt. Dan, Ice Cream. Lt. Dan, Iiiiice Cream

Butter pecan, my favorite!

I'm glad Doug wasn't up here just now to see me lick chocolate off of my shirt. He told me earlier today that I had enough ice cream bar sticks on my nightstand to build a cabin. I can't help it that Haagen-Dazs makes a mighty fine chocolate-almond crunch ice cream bar, can I? I mean, who wouldn't want to lick that off a shirt? Give me a break, dude.

My nightly ice cream bar reminds me of my Pappaw and old Barksdale Cornett (the family dog, as you recall). When he wasn't enjoying a big tub of popcorn**, Pap

Pappaw's college yearbook photo.

delighted in a eating a cup of ice cream. After he had polished it off, he'd let Barksdale lick the cup. A match made in Heaven. In fact, I bet they're up in Heaven right now, maybe even sharing some butter pecan.

Speaking of butter pecan, I may have shared this story with you before, but one of my favorite memories of my Pappaw involved a trip to Lexington and a stop at Baskin Robbins. Now, we didn't have any ice cream shops in Dwarf, so when I was presented with the opportunity to pick from all those delicious-looking flavors of ice cream, I went wild. However, I was a dumb kid, and I chose bubblegum ice cream. It was pink and had pink chiclets buried inside. Also, it was inedible. I took one bite of that sickness and immediately knew that I had made a horrible, disgusting decision. Pappaw must've seen the sadness in my eyes because he asked me if I wanted to switch ice creams. What a man! He forced that bubblegum crap down while I enjoyed his delicious scoop of butter pecan.

**I can't wait until the dudes are old enough to eat popcorn. We'll eat it every night! Oh, how I loved staying all night with Mommaw and Pappaw! I knew as soon as Wheel of Fortune came on, Pap would be in the kitchen making a giant bowl of popcorn (always making sure I got my portion in a special bowl). Mmm I can smell it now.

Bob Dylan, Oreos, Possums, and the Alphabet

Every time I hear Bob Dylan's Don't Think Twice It's All Right, my mind travels back to Manchester, Tennessee. It was the middle of summer and hotter than hellfire. As soon as we arrived, I thought, "What have I done?" A camping festival? With hippies? Certainly I did not PAY for this, right? But there I was, and one of the main reasons I had gone was to see Bob Dylan. I suffered through the heat, filth, and random naked stoners and finally the day arrived. My buddies and I made it over to the stage where Bob was to perform. We landed ourselves a great seat and settled in for a fantastic show. Ugh, but the hippies. Bob started to sing Don't Think Twice, and this goofy kid with a Sonny Bono haircut started dancing around like he's in a freaking mosh pit. "Goodbye's too good a word, babe, so I'll just say..." "YOU'LL SAY, 'FARE THEE WELL,' BOB. FARE THEE WELL!!!" If the song wasn't so awesome, that guy could've totally ruined it for me.

Let's move on.

My child is an addict. That's right, folks. Julian needs Oreos like he needs air. The

other day, I received a text from Kay (our babysitter):

Julian wouldn't eat his mac-n-cheese and green beans. I asked him what he wanted and he pointed at the bar and said, "Cook!"

Another thing that kid can't live without is his possum. I wish you could see him with this thing. He loves it! Every night when we walk into his room, he marches over to his bed and gets his possum. When we went to my Grandma's a few weeks ago, I jotted down a list of items not to forget:

Toothbrushes

Deodorant

Sippy cups

Julian's possum

As for the other dude, The Bear's new thing is walking around with a blanket over his head. He thinks this is hysterical. When he's not being a goof, he's being a genius. The kid scares me. He knows the following letters: B, O, K, Y, T, and S. He refuses to eat with utensils, but kid can identify some letters.

One more thing before I go...could someone please explain to me how the spawn of the man who created The Muppets, Sesame Street, Fraggle freaking Rock, and Dinosaurs bring to life such a horrendous show as Sid the Science Kid? Poor Jim Henson, having his name associated with such refuse.

Terrifying.

Toys at the Table

He can't fathom eating food with a fork or a spoon, but a dump truck he'll do.