The good, the bad and the ugly.

I had strawberry freezer jam on toast for breakfast... again. I'm not a breakfast person but I will make an exception for strawberry freezer jam on toast, again and again and again. My nephew wanted to make a sandwich. He opened up the silverware draw. It didn't rattle as it normally does because it was empty. My steadily diminishing population of flatware had since been relocated to the dirty side of the counter. I deduced that information immediately upon entering the kitchen. My nephew needed time to stare into the drawer, taking in it's emptiness to process the possibilities.

"Keep staring, something might re-appear," I suggested as I helped myself to another cup of coffee. And so he did... for another full minute, just standing there staring at the empty drawer organizer. Finally he shook his head and shut the drawer, then dug through the dirty dishes for a knife to wash. It took a while but I think he's catching on.

I'm blogging with a wounded mouse. The left clicker has been amputated, no doubt during one of Zack's late night battles with his WOW buddies. He replaced the little panel but it doesn't stay in place, sticking to my finger every time I press down upon it. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that Zack was not victorious in his conquest last night, thus inflicting the mortal wounds to the mouse. Sad times indeed.

Oh well, I suppose I've procrastinated enough and better get busy. I've got a huge splattering of pooh on my car to clean off. Some dang bird emptied it's cargo bay right over my beautiful little car while I was at work. There was so much ick all over the poor Impala that it almost drowned. My initial suspicions were that Big Bird forgot to go to the bathroom before leaving Sesame Street and chose my car as an emergency evacuation location but Big Bird can't fly, so now I'm wondering if maybe there is a California Condor cruising the friendly skies above my store. I was able to clean the junk off of the windshield but had to drive home with it oozing all over the rest of the poor little car. And let me tell you, it's very distracting to have two big splatters of bird crap dripping down your window as you're driving. It was there the whole time in my peripheral vision like a bright neon sign that flashed out 'Look at me, I've been shat upon!' Grrrrr!

Today I'm staking out the parking lot. I'm going to find that dang bird and I'm going to shoot a cork up it's tail pipe. Crap on my car will you? I don't think so!

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING?

Strawberries are on sale right now so I grabbed a bunch to make freezer jam. I got enough for 1 recipe then decided to make 2 batches so I bought some more strawberries. (what can I say, it's some gooooooood stuff!) I started crushing berries and measuring them out, and wouldn't you know the first batch of berries I bought was the perfect amount for 2 batches of jam. Which meant that I had a bunch of left over berries.

I still have a bunch of left over berries. Every time I seen an Oompa I remind them to eat the strawberries so they don't go bad. It's gotten to a point where I'm almost ordering them to eat the berries. I think they're starting to avoid me. Who would have thought I'd have to order my kids to eat strawberries! At any rate, I have 11 jars of strawberry freezer jam, which puts me pretty close to Strawberry Heaven, except for one little problem.

The Oompas ate the last of the bread and I have nothing to spread my strawberry freezer jam on!

I'm trying to justify making a special trip to the Grocery Store down the way to get a loaf of bread but Al Gore's image and warning about Global Warming haunts me.

That's okay, that's what spoons are for! Mmmmmmm good!

Dickidoo left for California on Friday. He decided to fly rather than to ask me to borrow the car. Actually I think he did it just so I wouldn't try to sneak one or more of the Oompas and maybe the Shithound into the trunk without him knowing. I haven't talked to him since his lay-over in Denver that night. I'm thinking he's having all kinds of fun and is not sharing. I'm thinking 'out of sight, out of mind'. I'm thinking at least one of us is having fun and it may as well be him... although I'd have rather it be me.

I hope he eats a real Fuji burger and maybe a Carnita's burrito for me. And maybe he can track down those folks from Killer Shrimp...

But he's not going there for the food. His brother's son is graduating (with honors! Yay Michael!) and Dickidoo wanted to be there for the celebration. And he will also be able to visit with friends and relatives he hasn't seen in years. I guess I should be happy for him instead of pouting because he left me home... with the Oompas... and the Shithound... and no real Fuji burger or Carnitas burrito... and no Killer Shrimp...

Yeah, at least one of us is having fun and it may as well be him!

THE OOMPAS STRIKE AGAIN,

and this time it's one of their own!

Life in LoompaLand is in a time warp. With all of the Oompas back in the nest it is like old times. The house is loud and messy. Someone is always hungry. We never have enough toilet paper. Coffee is the scent of the day.

I watched Gabe grooming his hair from the bathroom doorway yesterday. He is trying to grow his hair back to it's pre-Army length, down to his waist. In the mean time it is at an uncontrollable length that is just beginning to curl over his ears. So he mousse's it down.

'Do you know why I had to buy my own mousse?' Gabe asked as he slicked back his hair in front of the tacky turquoise faux marble vanity. 'I used the girl's gel the other day and when I got to work Dad looked at me funny and asked what I had in my hair. When I looked in the mirror my hair was covered with glitter. At first I thought I just got a little glitter on me, but then I realized that my hair was covered with glitter.' He turned and shook a tube of hair gel at me.

'This is fricken glitter gel! I went to work with fricken glitter gel in my hair!'

I laughed long and hard. I'm not sure if I was laughing harder at the thought of my big tough son showing up at work with his dark wavy, neatly groomed hair sparkling brightly in the morning sun, or the thought that he had become a victim of his own siblings.

Yep, it's just like old times.