My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

A Series of Disconnected Thoughts

2006-04-20

"I'm Not in Love" by 10cc is such a fucking awesome song. Man! I'm just saying. [thanks, Smed!]

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When Dusty and I were at the nursery the other day, we bought a venus fly trap. Dusty's wanted one for some time but every time I'd visited that particular nursery, they were out. This time, we were in luck; they had a whole new shipment in. And, if they hadn't been selling for $10 each, I would have bought a couple of them. Because one thing we have no scarcity of, out in the country, is flies. Especially right now when they've all hatched out from whatever maggoty hidey holes flies come from.

So, we've been enjoying watching the traps shut (yum, a meal!) and open back up (please sir, may I have more?) over the last few days. I think he'll be very happy at our house.

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Red must have read yesterday's entry because last night she was the Ideal Eating Citizen. In fact, she was the Ideal Toddler Citizen. There were no tantrums, no whining, no throwing of food. She ate heartily: an entire garden burger, an entire banana, and copious amounts of rice very little of which ended up on the floor or in her lap or crammed into the various food traps within her booster seat.

She was cheerful and we were actually able to have a conversation something that's not happened since she transitioned to real food and became an annoying loud pest.

Hmmmm, maybe I ought to say more bad things about her so that soon she'll be so well behaved I'll have to start making things up. Red, is this a trick? I mean, I know you've been seriously messing with my mind since the day you were born but....really!

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On the way home yesterday, Dusty ever obsessed with What I'll Be When I Grow Up told me:

"When I grow up, I'm going to make movies in Hollywood."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. How do I do that?"

"I don't know. Know someone with a lot of money to fund your movie. Go to film school."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well, actually I'm going to work in a circus."

"Okay."

"How do I do that?"

"You could go to Clown College." [oooh, ouch, did I really say that?]

"Really?! Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do. I'm going to be a clown that sits in a hay chair." [no idea what that means]

"Okay."

"The clown has a wheelbarrow full of hay and he keeps falling back into it. That's what I'm gonna do!"

My daughter wants to be a professional clown? I just died a little. Why not just pull the trigger and be a Baptist preacher, if you really want to kill me, kid? I mean, of all the things I'm afraid of, clowns and religious zealots pretty much top the list.

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Dusty's lately learned a new song which she's been singing continuously. As always, she put her own special spin on it.

"Yankie Doodle went to town,
Riding on a pony.
Stuck a feather up his hair
And called it macaroni."

Can you think of other words to insert for "hair"? I can.

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One last little tidbit. As we have a resident groundhog, Dusty's had a lot of groundhog-related questions. What do they eat? What do their burrows look like? How do they poo? Etc. I found this website the other day which has answered most of her queries.

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9:34 a.m. ::
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