Another Eighties Fashion Faux Pas

With Spirit week at school the teachers get into it more than the students, and I am proof positive: It was "Eighties" day. I had my stilettos and short-ish straight skirt with leggings. My long white shirt with the turned up collar and brooch was covered with a man's suit jacket -- sleeves rolled up, of course. My hair rode high in a side ponytail and my lips glowed with too bright lipstick. I was ready! But fate stepped in and saved the day; something made me check my email. Oh my! I found out that I was actually "flash-dancing my way to the Super Bowl." It was not Eighties day, yet -- it was favorite team Jersey day. Phew!

BATMAN, WHERE ARE YOU?

I had him dressed to the nines. You couldn't tell me anything. He had a cool all black Batman costume with a black face mask and attached long black flowing cape. I made him change out of his red turtleneck and into the black one. Lastly, I made him wear the black socks so they wouldn't show above the all black tennis shoes. It looked great in the house....but then I sent him out into the pitch black streetlight-less night to trick-or-treat with a crowd of children and spent the whole evening calling out, "TREY, where are you?" What in the world was I thinking?

The Calvary

I slept good last night for the first time in two weeks because I knew the Calvary was on its way. It has been six days since the battle that I won last Sunday. Unfortunately, the stench of death (their stinky odor) is a pheromone, so by Wednesday their dead little bodies were like a mating call to hundreds more. they won that day. I parked on the street and ran sreaming into the house. I hunker

ed in and did not leave til sunrise. That is also when I made up my mind to call out the National Guards. When I walk out on my porch this morning in the dawn of the bright sunlight, it will be with my posse. Orkin will be by my side! May their stench this time be the Siren call of Mermaids, calling any that dare answer to their death!

Message in a Bottle

Help, I am being held captive by a couple hundred checkpoints that are determined to be graded. I was able to sneak on the computer for a second to make this SOS message. I would have loved to have my response come via messge in a bottle (a bordeaux shaped one at that), but all I got was this message in a coffee mug and it said, "Wake up and get back to work!"

Feeling Super!

He picked it again! Batman, hands down. But I must admit, it had nothing to do with who he wanted to be for Halloween, it was all about the costume with the longest cape. He will not be happy til I make him one that drags the floor and trips him up. Anyone know when they stop wanting to wear one? Oh, never mind, I just realized that his Dad's is hanging in the closet, too.

Owww!

‎"Oww Mommy! It hurts so bad! Can you put a bandaid on it." "Oh, baby, do you mean the (tiny little) scratch you got last week?" "Yes mommy, oww!" "Does it hurt here? (I said as I pressed on his shoulder) and here?" "Oww, yes there!" "Okay! Let's look at it in the mirror so you can watch me." "Oww! Okay, but hurry, it hurts!" "HUH? I don't see it." "No, baby, there is no scratch there. See, look, it was the other shoulder that got scratched. Now, does it really still hurt?" Owww! Mommy, yes. can put a bandaid on that shoulder."

Finger on the Trigger...aka The Reclaimation

I boldly stepped onto the porch in the dawn of the bright sunlight. Finger on the trigger. I stared stared them down. They held their ground. I took a deep breath and slowly pulled the trigger. The first one went down easily. I felt empowered. Faster and faster I went until I built myself into a frenzy. One came at me as if to show proof of his resolve. But swatted him away as if he were a mere fly to me. My skin no longer crawled as I felt vindication creeping in, and I did not stop until my internet sworn by solution of of Dawn Soap and Bleach were emptied. I turned back, stepping over hard crunchy bodies of stink bugs, careful not to crush them as I headed in for a refill.