UNDER THE INFLUENCE of SPONGEBOB
I think it's mood that comes along with the season. Kind of a melancholia for Autumn.
What else would possess me to bring the guitar into the living room and expect to play liturgical hymns or something else that is nice and serious.
With a 3 year old walking around bored and a < 1 year old in the high chair.
It was less than a minute before Belinda was running around singing (very loudly) the whole theme song from Spongebob Squarepants.
"Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Spongebob Squarepants!"
It's really hard to do O Sacred Head Now Wounded under that.
It's really easy for a 3 year old to ignore anything that I am actually playing on the guitar.
In her head she really hears me playing the chords to the Spongebob Squarepants nice and loud.
So I learned the chords to the theme song quickly, because it seemed like the smart thing to do.

Sammy is sitting on the floor chewing on his lucky, silky blanket. He feels lucky when he has it. The blanket itself is very unlucky. Baby saliva + silky blanket = must wash blanket frequently.
After taking my guitar, Belinda played a couple of songs (that sounded the same) and then took her Care Bear shopping. They met Tigger at the store, and I think they bought a Barbie. Sammy is now chewing on the Barbie's hair.
The blanket is called the "snilky" because that's what Belinda called it when she was little. She never chewed it.

Belinda is now building a house for Tigger. He didn't buy it at the store. He's in his new house now. And now Belinda is jumping on the house. And now she's building it again.

And, no, I'm not a slow typist.

Just realized that the link to "Our Town" has been dead forever. Fixed that and added some friends as well.

Get the crumbs of summer if you can.
Winter's coming with dessert.

Maybe not in greatest tase...but have you ever felt like that's what is going on?
This kid is on a conquest to ravage the decency and order of the house. Nothing is safe.
Maybe he is going to be the next Alexander the Great.
Or maybe he'll grow up and be a nice boy who puts his toys away.
That would be nice.

As all good house husbands do, I tried to make fudge. Read about it here.

A MEAN STEPSISTER
by Belinda A. C. Henry
Today. Red Pilot Pen on Cheap Printer Paper.

Sam wrote a poem today about Kix. It follows below:

Raarr.

Chomp.

Mumf.

Moomph.

Mmmm.

Gulp.

Aaah.

Hehh. . . Hehhhh.

Mmmmm!

Harh! Squeek!

Uhmmmm!

Now another poem based on something that happened 5 minutes ago:

To reach into the toilet is not right,
though mom just scrubbed the bowl with all her might.
We know it is appealing, lovely white,
but what it represents is no delight.

A Night in the Smokehouse

Yesterday we were admiring the nice Fall smell. You know, burning firewood and the like. The problem is, it didn't go away. By midnight it was annoying, like the nice Fall smell was trying to give us a headache.
By 3:00 AM it was just overpowering, like the nice Fall smell wanted to smother us. I opened up windows and put up fans, and looked out the window at all the chimneys thinking, "Who has such an annoying chimney? I'm going to have to call the burrough office tomorrow and put in a complaint." The fans helped some of the house smell better, but parts of the house actually smelled worse. It was puzzling.


In the morning, Leigh asked me to spray some Febreze on the couch and several other cloth items. Then our neighbor, Junior Uini, noticed that the mulch in front of the apartment was actually smoldering, disintegrating bricks, and sending smoke rolling up the front of our building. This is what it looked like after the firemen left -- isn't it decorative? It actually burned the bottom front of our place!



So, here are some lessons:
1a. Mulch is spontaneously flamable.
1b. God was looking out for us!
2. You can't mask a fire with Febreze.
3. You need your neighbors.
4. My kids don't really care about fire trucks too much.