i'm going quackers

quackers, because c has discovered daddy's duck call, and she has been wandering around the house randomly quacking. the problem is her duck calls sound more like dying ducks than anything else...either that, or a duck that ate too many beans. your choice.

so j and i have been spending some time creating The Ultimate Baseball Card for him online because his coach neglected to tell me *supposedly* when picture day was... and we didn't get any pictures of him with his other teammates. i was so irritated with her - i think she's trying to get back at us, subconsciously, for trying to move j up to the next level of ball (coach pitch) and not play tee ball. whatever. we found a much cooler card online anyway. nyah nyah! *sticks tongue out very childishly*

maybe it's completely childish of me, but i feel downright triumphant over the fact i found a nicer, cooler card online, and that my boy won't miss out on having a baseball card just because his spaz of a coach didn't bother to make any effort to tell either me or m when picture day was - mind you, she told everyone ELSE. but i'm not bitter, not at all. i just hope the fleas of a thousand camels infest her armpits. that's all.

and c is bunkered down rightbesidemelikethis, giving me just enough room to take half-breaths. if i scootch down the sofa, she scootches right along with me and hunkers right back down rightbesidemelikethis... i always remind myself that one day, all too soon, it'll be all i can do to get her to spend 5 minutes with me, let alone shadow me all day long.

BUT SOMETIMES I WANT TO SCREAM.

ok, i'm better now. just sitting here, watching it rain. wonder when the last non-child-related thought or non-work-related thought i had was. my wellspring of creativity is about dry as an arizona river bed in the middle of august. i've resorted to tacking up signs - "muse wanted. reward offered."

maybe i should smoke some of the happy weed, a la coleridge. hey, it got him to write some of the best poetry in the english language. why wouldn't it work for me?

(and if you're reading this, Big Brother, please note i've never even puffed a ciggie, so the chances of the above happening are approximately nil)

oh well. i think i'll go raid the fridge. maybe i'll find creativity among the leftovers. that mac 'n' cheese i made today was pretty inspiring.