Boys are gross

I did the boys' laundry today.

I employed my usual method of separation:  shirts, socks, underwear, and pajamas in the first load, pants in the second.  After sorting and folding forty-something pairs of underpants and socks, it's nice only to have to fold pants by the time the second load finishes drying.

As I fold, each clothing "type" gets separated into three piles, one for each kid.  I always save the underpants and socks for last, and this time while folding underpants, I noticed something odd.

I hadn't folded any underpants for J, my oldest.

I wondered why.

And then it dawned on me.

He had been wearing the same pair of underpants all week.  He wasn't changing his underpants when he got dressed in the morning.

Ew.

When he got home from school today, I asked why I hadn't folded any underpants for him.  He gave a "you got me" smile and looked down.  Busted!

I told him that I was going to start charging him a dollar a day if he didn't change his underpants and socks every day.

I think that got through to him.

Good grief, I hope so.

I don't even want to think about what I'm going to discover once he hits his teens.

Yeech.

Squee!

Hi, my name is L, and I am a Twi-hard.

Yes, I am a 40-year-old Twilight fan.

Actually, it's a little more complicated than that.

Isn't it always? 

What I like about the Twilight series:

• That all of the movies prominently feature Robert Pattinson
• That, when reading the books, I feel like a teenager again, but in a good way
• Both the books and the movies are just. so. ripe. for snarking

What I take issue with about the Twilight series:

• The stupid contact lenses that the actors playing the vampires wear
• The quality of Stephenie Meyer's writing
• The gaping plot holes that you could drive a semi through
• That Bella is supposedly so mature and self-possessed, yet is willing to throw her entire life away for a boy.  I'll admit that I've always been a sucker for a pretty face; if Robert Pattinson took a sudden interest in me, it would probably be difficult to resist, but come on now
• That Edward's irrational possessiveness of and attempts to control Bella, his breaking into her home, and watching her while she sleeps are passed off as romantic instead of what they really are:  stalking and abusive.

That said, I will still fork over eleventy-million dollars (or whatever the price of a movie ticket is these days) to go see Breaking Dawn Part 1.  

On Saturday I asked the Hubster if he was going to take me out on a date so we could see it on opening night.  

Hubster is not a Twilight fan.  Watching one of the movies is about as high on his priority list as going to the dentist.  Hubster has not been to the dentist in about five years.  

He laughed.  

I believe his exact response was "No fucking way."

I told him that I would just have to go see it with the girls.  He was not pleased.

Oh well.

I need me some RPattz.  Shirtless.  In a love sex scene.

Mmmm...

Is that a thing?

Last night I picked up pizza for dinner.

In case you haven't been playing along at home, we're redoing our kitchen.  The stakes were raised on Wednesday when the hardwood floors were sealed, leaving us with no stove.


On my way home, I drove behind a (rather nice, probably brand-spanking-new) Mercedes.  I must have been following too close for the driver's liking, since s/he did something that I had never seen before.  The car's left turn signal started blinking, and since I am averse to rear ending vehicles behind which I drive, I slowed down.  We passed three or four streets on our left, but the car never turned.  It never really slowed down, either.

I think that rat bastard put his signal on just to get me off his tail.

Is that a thing?  Or was he just a giant juice bag?

Only thirty-six more hours...

Until my kitchen gets reassembled!

YAY!!!

I know, you're all like What? What are you talking about, reassemble your kitchen?  What's up with that?

Well, I shall tell you.

In the beginning of July, we began a little home improvement project.  It's no big deal, really.  We began an addition.  Included in this project was, among other things, a complete kitchen overhaul.  You know, your typical, run-of-the-mill project.  No biggie.

Oh, and I forgot to tell you the best, most smartest decision ever part:  we're staying in the house.  The. Whole. Time.

A few weeks ago (I have no idea exactly when it happened; it could have been two weeks or two months, I just know it feels like freaking forever ago) our kitchen was gutted and stripped to the studs.  Thankfully we still had the use of our fridge and stove during this time.  Woo hoo!  Chicken nuggets and tater tots for dinner EVERY NIGHT!  Um, no.  I needed to try to keep some semblance of order (and nutrition) amid the chaos.  Dinner has pretty much consisted of anything I could assemble and cook in a disposable roasting pan.

There was a pretty tight rotation.  It went something like this:

• Monday - chicken, broccoli, and rice casserole
• Tuesday - nachos (made with ground beef that was browned at mom's house on Sunday)
• Wednesday - roast chicken with potatoes and vegetable
• Thursday - chicken parmigiana (made with cutlets that were breaded and baked at mom's)
• Friday - frozen pizza
• Saturday - sausage and peppers
• Sunday - takeout pizza (again)

If I was feeling a little ka-razey, I might switch up the entrees, but that was pretty much what we've been eating for the past six-ish weeks.

It has not been the most eco-friendly venture.  Many trees were killed, and more fossil fuels were depleted so that we could have plates and forks upon which to eat dinner.  Oh, and did I also mention that all non-disposable items like snack bowls and sippy cups with myriad places for bacteria to hide from sponges had to be washed in the bathroom sink?  

Once everything is in, I don't know what I'll do first.  No, scratch that.  I do know what I'll do first.  I will clean - wipe down cabinets, shelves, and wash the counters.  I know, way to jump in with both feet, right?

Okay, after all of that boring cleaning stuff, what should I make first?  Stir fry?  Lasagna?  Gluten free chocolate chip cookies?  

Please to excuse me while I mop the drool from my keyboard...

Baby Steps

It's Friday night, and I have a couple of ideas kicking around in my head, but nothing too fully formed yet.

I didn't blog on Wednesday night.

For shame! you say.

I know.  But I had good reason.

I (gasp!) went out to dinner with some friends.

I'll let you collect yourself for a moment.

Right.  Let's move on, shall we?

So... one of the moms I know turned 40 a couple of weeks ago, and a bunch of us went to dinner to celebrate.

There are two things that happened with regard to this dinner that were noteworthy:

1. Tuesday, the Hubster asked me what my plans were for Wednesday, because he was asked to go out for beers with some coworkers but was pretty sure that I had already "booked" that night to go out.
(This is especially noteworthy because there's usually a rather tense back-and-forth between us when I want to go out on a "school night" and I really appreciated not only that he remembered that I had plans, but also that he deferred to them without any negativity.  If he's smart, he'll *finally* learn that this type of response will be rewarded handsomely by yours truly... wink, wink)
2. I immersed myself in conversations with the women seated nearest me, and had a fantastic time.  I would have liked to have the opportunity to talk to everyone, but when there are ten of us at a long table, that's just not possible.  And - now here's why this is noteworthy - I actually did not feel like I missed out on what was going on at the other end of the table.  
(One of the moms that I obliquely mentioned in a previous post were among those at dinner.  They sat at the opposite end of the table, said a quick hi, and said little if anything to me except things that were of benefit to her.  This behavior didn't go unnoticed, especially because I wasn't the only one treated this way.)

In other news...

The fruit flies continue to demonstrate their utter stupidity.  

Today, I found two dead ones at the bottom of the styrofoam cup (it's still on the bathroom counter).  

It was empty.

Uh Oh...

A few nights ago, while I was playing Dr. Kevorkian to my burgeoning fruit fly colony, I had a disturbing thought:

What if I've got it wrong?

What if, instead of extinguishing the colony, I'm culling the herd?

What if the fruit flies who haven't been sucked in to that oh-so-tempting styrofoam cup of nectar are somehow genetically superior to their stupider and now dead counterparts?  Have I become responsible for the genesis of a generation of Super Flies, unswayed by the scent of something sweet, able to land on a bubble without being trapped?

I stewed on that for a few days.  Exclusively.  It was all I thought about.

No.  Hell, no.  Of course it wasn't all I thought about.  Yeah, it crossed my mind a few times, whenever I entered the bathroom and saw the damn things congregating on the mirror.

So I tried a little experiment.  Rinsed out the cup (Yes, I paused a moment to honor the fallen.  Not.).  Added a squirt of soap.  Filled it with a couple of inches of water.  Set it on the counter to see what would happen.

A few hours later, there were five flies, belly up, at the bottom of the cup.

Conclusion:  fruit flies are stupid.  All that worry about culling the herd for nothing.

So close, I can almost touch it...

Victory, that is.

Over the freaking fruit flies.

I can hear you cheering.  Thank you, my adoring fans.  All one of you.

But seriously...

I thought I had the Fruit Fly Cocktail of Doom all figured out.

Shockingly, I was wrong.  While my original recipe contained the secret ingredient - sugar - I discovered that I needed more of it.  A lot more of it.  Like two tablespoons worth.  So...

Rinsed the bug carcasses out that styrofoam cup.  Squirted some hand soap into it.  (By the by, the soap has a different use than what you might think - I thought it was because fruit flies are stupid and are lured by the pretty bubbles.  In actuality, the soap changes the surface tension on the water so the buggers can't fly away once they touch the sweet nectar.  Muahahahahaha...)  Went downstairs and shoveled in two tablespoons of sugar, and a little more for good measure.  Added a splash of red wine vinegar (it smells awful, but you must add the vinegar, because fruit flies are gross and like sweet and fermenting things, like vinegar.  Or wine, but why waste good wine on stupid bugs?  I digress.  Anyway...).  Went back upstairs.  Filled the cup.

Within an hour, there were so many dead bugs floating in the bubbles on top (I know, I know, but water + soap = bubbles, what can I do?).

Victory shall be mine!