Kids!
"...but my son refers to his as "Mister".."
Odd, you couldn't tell me that if your kid was around and I can't tell you anything about my kid and his...member. He'd kill me. But, I think that I can safely say that I walked into a hotel bathroom to grab something while he was taking a shower and I could see his silhouette through the sliding shower doors and I was rather impressed. It wasn't "working" at the time...but I could still tell that my son was a man...at 16.
That's as close as I've come to seeing the kids bottom or the rest of that neighborhood since I potty trained him. I guess once you teach them to wipe their asses they pretty much take care of that stuff all by themselves, until of course, some nutty broad comes along and names it Frank. And since I'm not a child molestor and my kids stopped being naked sometime around age 7, I can honestly say that I've never seen an "in between" Eugene"...or whatever you call him. All I've ever seen are the little tiny baby boy wee-wees and the full grown man-sized wah-wahs. I'm sure there must be some in between size...but those are rather elusive. Not many 13 year old boys would reveal themselves to a grown woman...at least not one who isn't a teacher.
Well, all this talk about sex and dicks must mean that it's about time for me to make a phone call. There is my one friend who I have on call for such purposes. Unfortunately, he's not available right this minute so unless some guy knocks on my door...I'll be spending the night alone. Oh well, that's OK...it'll keep.
I went outside and planted morning glory's along my fence today. Over the weekend I pulled a shitload of honeysuckle off of my fence because that crap is choking out everything else out there. It already killed my other morning glory's and now it's attacking a rose bush so it had to go. But, that crap is tough to kill! I thought I had it yesterday and then when I was digging holes to plant the seeds, I kept finding more roots of that stupid plant. It wants to live and I want it dead. We've reached a stand-off. One of the vines broke the steak knife I was stabbing it with in a futile attempt to survive. I have bigger and better tools, I'll get it later. All I need is one man to bend over and pull that sucker out.
When you're dating, men do a LOT of crap for you. It's amazing. I have pictures of men fixing my crap somewhere here on the blog. I don't usually snap any pictures of them since my dog ate the cord to my digital camera. But, men do indeed help a lot...before you marry them. And they don't stop! If you ask one to pull a weed, he'll be over with a hoe and a 6-pack, ready to work in the yard all day.
One guy just came over to pick me up for a date and fixed my fence and a light fixture just because they needed to be done. I didn't ask him to, he just fixed it. I wish they'd keep doing that stuff after you get married. I'd love to have a man that likes to work around the house...and knows how. My perfect man is a contractor or just one with enough cash to pay someone else to do it. I don't care which, but I have to have one of those. Rick was neither, bless his little bald head. He could keep cars running...as long as they were made before 1975. He was strong though and I do sort of miss him when I can't open a jar of pickles.
Of course, we wouldn't need the men to open the pickles if they hadn't closed them in the first place. Men apply far too much torque to anything that requires twisting. I don't know why, but they do. Turning off water, closing pickle jars...all too tight. But, my father taught me something that has helped me open a lot of gas tanks...righty tighty, lefty loosy. I used to turn the gas cap both ways trying to open them and I always ended up dragging the clerk outside to help me get the stupid things off. They must have thought that I was an idiot. Imagine my surprise when I heard that EVERYTHING that opens, opens to the left and closes to the right! I can do almost anything now. That helped me more than the old, "Keep your eye on the ball" thing helped. I couldn't catch a cat thrown from 5 feet until I really, really paid attention to that one. Now I can catch anything that's thrown in my gerneral direction. I learned that one when I was 38...playing tennis with my son...I had heard it a million times, but never really DID it until then. I was just batting away balls like a girl up until then in fear that they would hit me in the head.
I wonder if there are anymore little sayings that make life easier that I haven't heard yet?
I have a feeling there's no saying that could make my computer record me any easier...but I'm willing to try to figure it out. Or, I may just go to a friends house and have him do it...WITH my clothes on! One way or another, I'll get it done. But alas, not now. 'Tis time for me to go to bed. I'm not tired but after I type for a long time (and use the mouse) my right shoulder muscle goes into a spasm and it's happening now. I sure could use a back rub!
Ciao,
Meg
"...but my son refers to his as "Mister".."
Odd, you couldn't tell me that if your kid was around and I can't tell you anything about my kid and his...member. He'd kill me. But, I think that I can safely say that I walked into a hotel bathroom to grab something while he was taking a shower and I could see his silhouette through the sliding shower doors and I was rather impressed. It wasn't "working" at the time...but I could still tell that my son was a man...at 16.
That's as close as I've come to seeing the kids bottom or the rest of that neighborhood since I potty trained him. I guess once you teach them to wipe their asses they pretty much take care of that stuff all by themselves, until of course, some nutty broad comes along and names it Frank. And since I'm not a child molestor and my kids stopped being naked sometime around age 7, I can honestly say that I've never seen an "in between" Eugene"...or whatever you call him. All I've ever seen are the little tiny baby boy wee-wees and the full grown man-sized wah-wahs. I'm sure there must be some in between size...but those are rather elusive. Not many 13 year old boys would reveal themselves to a grown woman...at least not one who isn't a teacher.
Well, all this talk about sex and dicks must mean that it's about time for me to make a phone call. There is my one friend who I have on call for such purposes. Unfortunately, he's not available right this minute so unless some guy knocks on my door...I'll be spending the night alone. Oh well, that's OK...it'll keep.
I went outside and planted morning glory's along my fence today. Over the weekend I pulled a shitload of honeysuckle off of my fence because that crap is choking out everything else out there. It already killed my other morning glory's and now it's attacking a rose bush so it had to go. But, that crap is tough to kill! I thought I had it yesterday and then when I was digging holes to plant the seeds, I kept finding more roots of that stupid plant. It wants to live and I want it dead. We've reached a stand-off. One of the vines broke the steak knife I was stabbing it with in a futile attempt to survive. I have bigger and better tools, I'll get it later. All I need is one man to bend over and pull that sucker out.
When you're dating, men do a LOT of crap for you. It's amazing. I have pictures of men fixing my crap somewhere here on the blog. I don't usually snap any pictures of them since my dog ate the cord to my digital camera. But, men do indeed help a lot...before you marry them. And they don't stop! If you ask one to pull a weed, he'll be over with a hoe and a 6-pack, ready to work in the yard all day.
One guy just came over to pick me up for a date and fixed my fence and a light fixture just because they needed to be done. I didn't ask him to, he just fixed it. I wish they'd keep doing that stuff after you get married. I'd love to have a man that likes to work around the house...and knows how. My perfect man is a contractor or just one with enough cash to pay someone else to do it. I don't care which, but I have to have one of those. Rick was neither, bless his little bald head. He could keep cars running...as long as they were made before 1975. He was strong though and I do sort of miss him when I can't open a jar of pickles.
Of course, we wouldn't need the men to open the pickles if they hadn't closed them in the first place. Men apply far too much torque to anything that requires twisting. I don't know why, but they do. Turning off water, closing pickle jars...all too tight. But, my father taught me something that has helped me open a lot of gas tanks...righty tighty, lefty loosy. I used to turn the gas cap both ways trying to open them and I always ended up dragging the clerk outside to help me get the stupid things off. They must have thought that I was an idiot. Imagine my surprise when I heard that EVERYTHING that opens, opens to the left and closes to the right! I can do almost anything now. That helped me more than the old, "Keep your eye on the ball" thing helped. I couldn't catch a cat thrown from 5 feet until I really, really paid attention to that one. Now I can catch anything that's thrown in my gerneral direction. I learned that one when I was 38...playing tennis with my son...I had heard it a million times, but never really DID it until then. I was just batting away balls like a girl up until then in fear that they would hit me in the head.
I wonder if there are anymore little sayings that make life easier that I haven't heard yet?
I have a feeling there's no saying that could make my computer record me any easier...but I'm willing to try to figure it out. Or, I may just go to a friends house and have him do it...WITH my clothes on! One way or another, I'll get it done. But alas, not now. 'Tis time for me to go to bed. I'm not tired but after I type for a long time (and use the mouse) my right shoulder muscle goes into a spasm and it's happening now. I sure could use a back rub!
Ciao,
Meg
posted by Meg Kelso | 6:23 PM
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