THE PIRATES LAFFITE and prolly their hands too

Well my two units are in their baths. And here I am AGIN. I should be doing something that has educational merit. Do I NEED another repetitive task? I think not but here it has presented itself in a format irresistible. Besides. So many opinions and comments and no one I want to burden with them, so what a perfect spot. So many blogs have intensely deep and intelligent or political thoughts (notice the OR) and opinions but today is all frivolity in deference to my blondiness (well - it was at one time. May still be but who knows it hasn't been it's rightful color in so many years I wouldn't have a freakin' clue) and celebration of the serendipitous beginning of a BAHLOGGah.

Now. After putting #1 son in my shower I passed by the easy chair in our bathroom where my handsome husband's stack of books teeter precariously on the floor beside the chair. Atop the stack is The Pirates Laffite by William C. Davis and it occurs to me good grief my husband is a pirate. I mean, who else watches the history channel EVERY FREAKIN' NIGHT (blech), builds two story forts for his kids, takes two hours to carve slingshots out of wood (while teaching the boys how to use the lathe) instead of buying plastic ones for ninety nine cents out of the cheapie bin at Target, shaves his head but keeps a goatee, and takes things apart just to tinker with schtuff. Then rolls his eyes when I fitch pits because ropes are hanging dangerously from the second story of the fort. Well they have PAILS attached!!!!!! HOW DO YOU THINK THEY'RE GONNA GET TREASURES UP THERE WOMAN? Oh you modern mom with your safety stuff is the look I get. They'll be FIIIIIIIINE. He works with those hands like they're direct extensions of his brain. He's an old timey tinkerer. Or a pirate hmmmm.

Now then. Today we dealt with family members regarding funeral arrangements for handsome husband's aunt. Frivolity. Remember. Today is all frivolity. Tomorrow we'll deal with the death and bereavement issue. So. How many times today (and the past several weeks with aunt in hospice) would you like to guess have I heard well since you don't work maybe you can do it now normally I just chalk it up to shallow processing skills or self involvement, perhaps bitterness, 'my life is the hardest' syndrome or who knows what, but this week I have heard that phrase over the limit and one of these days, in my loveliest and calmest of voices, when the opportunity presents itself, I am gonna smile and respond to a family member who repeatedly makes these comments ~ when they're collecting for a family contribution effort, "Well since I don't work, we're a one income family. . . we'll be contributing half the amount that the two income families contribute."

TTFN.