T -62

When I was a girl, and I didn't have the confidence to do something, my father would always make me a Dumbo feather. You know, the movie? Dumbo thinks that he needs a feather in order to be able to fly. So the feathers were things like little notes that said You can do it! or maybe some last minute formula for a math test or whatever.

So here's my Dumbo feather for you, and it happens to be my favorite song from that movie. It's sung by the mother elephant to Dumbo, and it's called "Baby Mine".

Baby mine, don't you cry Baby mine, dry your eyes Rest your head close to my heart Never to part, baby of mine Little one when you play Don't you mind what you say Let those eyes sparkle and shine Never a tear, baby of mine If they knew sweet little you They'd end up loving you too All those same people who scold you What they'd give just for The right to hold you From your head to your toes You're not much, goodness knows But you're so precious to me Cute as can be, baby of mine

Mo's yours. This is just paperwork.

Lovely sentiments all.

How 'bout distractions? A day at the beach? Fun-filled Fourth of July celebrations?

Preparing a week's worth of meals so you don't have to cook next week?

Whatever, just get busy - or perhaps just the opposite - get totally lost in a 1000 page book.

Buy lots of fireworks to display how much fun Mo can have at your place....

And matches.

Jespah, that made me cry. But in a good way. Your father must be terrific to have come up with such a lovely way to shore you up. Thank you.

Don't even get me started on fireworks. Mr. B went a little overboard. He is not feeling as shakey as I am and he fully intends to celebrate Independence Day.

Like I said, I can't angst out here because I don't want to corrupt the good mood he is in.

I wish I could lose myself in a good book but I can't hardly concentrate. I'm trying to keep myself busy. I made a big batch of Super Happy Fun Bubbles and made an Independence Day lable, went to the grocery, went to the plant store so I could do some potting, now I'm taking the dog in for her monthly shot and I have a few stops along the way.

Thank you all for being my bootstraps.

I wouldn't be so light-hearted if I didn't feel confident of the outcome. The bit about letting him be a kid was a great answer, IMO.

Oh, definately matches, DrewDad. How can a kid grow up without matches to play with?

Jespah, your father is an extraordinary man and the kind of father most of us dream about. Give him a hug from me just for being your dad.

DrewDad and Roger (Brother Flame Thrower of Benevolence) the fire crackers and matches to play with are such guy things. I love you both, but you forgot to throw in singed eyebrows. Yep, that's the ticket, a fine family picture for the social worker.

I figured the soot-blacked fingers of the hand holding the firecracker-to-be-thrown would be plenty....

Thank you. He's a good guy even though he's got the eyebrows that devoured Cleveland.

Mo! He'll be great. Be sure to dye his hair green and purple. Say it's for Independence Day and you're all color blind.

We are now at T -23 and I think everything is as in order as it has ever been. Unfortunately that means I don't really have anything to keep me occupied. I had planned to have this day to just relax and now I'm too antsy to sit still. I'll have to come up with something....














... now where did I put those matches?

http://www.plan59.com/galleries/food/cooking01.htm

why does this just scream your name?

Boomer--

Many people consider 7/1-7/4, 2006 to be a four-day, holiday weekend.

The Powers that Be don't schedule potentially awkward home visits in the middle of holiday weekends.

I'll sit around at 4 p.m. EDS tomorrow and worry for you--meanwhile, try to relax.

boomer, is your kitchen up to these standards?






out of the oven, and onto the conveyor belt




(what was that Abuzz thread? recipes? food art? it's driving me mad)

Suppose the home inspector checks and finds that Mo likes to wear his undies back-to-front?

Gasp!

And you go along with allowing him to make decisions about his wardrobe and his body?

Gasp!


She might see the picture of Mo self-decorated with the Sharpie.

Or see Mo's perverted ideas of orderly garden rows.

She might find a cache of emergency tuna cans.

You want to borrow trouble, we can borrow trouble--but there is no need.

Boomer, you're a dingbat.
The Dys.

But she's OUR dingbat!



Once again, I can only suggest exercise or drugs, Boomer.

A dingbat, huh?

I suppose I shouldn't tell of my plot to kidnap the Eggland's Best family to sit in for us tomorrow then.

And while I have been known to toss an odd biscuit or two people don't necessarily have to wear fishbowls on their heads for protection. My buscuits are light and fluffy.

Now the cat, Biscuit, is another story. Helmets might be a good idea if I start throwing her around.

We are at .... let's see.... T-17 or so right about now. Everyone in my house is still alive and unharmed.

I went to the fabric store and found some nice stuff to recover my dining chairs so I have a little project to busy myself with. The added benefit will be that the chairs will no longer look like the belong in a funeral home.

I wanted the black fabric with the chickens on it. Years ago I would have bought that fabric. Today I could only see the decay brought on by filthy, stinky, boy feet.

I think my fabric choice shows that I'm moving towards confident.

But I am kind of fretting that I don't have a conveyor belt in my kitchen.









Yet.

Yes a dingbat, we all love you but you're still a dingbat.
Your friend
The Dys.

Just checking in.

Make sure to bake some bread just before they come over....