The Toxic Housewife

Our kitchen-update has proved to indeed be the saga I feared.  Yeah, yeah: those who know me best will immediately point out that I adore a good drama . . . but this one has been a little much for my marriage.

Because I have no deep thoughts for the week (surprise, surprise):

May I just start by pointing out that Bee was FINE yesterday?  I've been battling flu-like symptoms since Christmas, but Bee was fine.

http://www.etsy.com/shop/ficklepicklefun Ahh, another auspicious New Year’s.  I am starting it off in style: once-again finding myself hanging out at the local Burger King, blogging while Mr. C approaches stranger’s children to ask them to play (with the sob-story that “My parents won’t play with me”).  (Because I’m classy, that’s my cue to call out, “Shuddup and come eat yer chicken nuggets, Junior.”)

(a pin given to Mr. C) First, a moment of irony:

I got this lovely book for free, and it has provided me with hours of shuddering enjoyment.

http://etsy.com/shop/ficklepicklefun I am the consummate American, in that it is in my blood to be a consumer.  This does not blend well with my Irish-German roots, which advocate practicality and thrift.  So I am greedy whilst concurrently being miserly: to qualities that are ever at-odds with each other.