confessions

Remember how Chip and I are 80-year-olds who regularly watch The Wheel of Fortune? Well, we've been so fascinated since they created this whole Million Dollar Option on the wheel. It's a total long shot (think along the lines of the odds that you'd win the lottery or that I'd actually write, you know, a short post) - to win the million, a contestant first has to spin and hit the million dollar spot. And then the contestant needs to solve the puzzle. Then the contestant needs to win the game and go on to the bonus round. And then the kind people at Wheel of Fortune put the little million dollar ticket in the miniature prize wheel that the contestant has to spin to see which prize they win - IF they solve the final puzzle. So your odds are pretty tiny. Chip has had bets with me that anyone that actually makes it to the bonus round with the million dollar ticket probably has to solve an even harder puzzle. So imagine my surprise when I watched the other day and saw the contestant spin to the million. And then solve the puzzle. And then win the game to go to the bonus round. And then... she totally solved the bonus puzzle (leaky faucet and I totally got it way before her, I'm so good). And THEN... they open the little envelope to see what she won AND SHE WON THE MILLION. There was jumping! And streamers! And hugging! And jumping all over Pat! And leaping across the stage to hug Vanna! And (here's my confession): there I was, watching all of this, CRYING. Yes, I cried during Wheel of Fortune. I don't know what's wrong with me.



The cats have two food bowls for crunchies. The bowls are exactly the same. They are filled with the same food. But somehow, the cats have personally assigned the bowls, because if one is empty and the other is TOTALLY FULL, I'll have a specific cat following me around the house yelling GIVE ME SOME FOOD WOMAN until I finally give in and fill the bowl.


Okay, so that one above wasn't a confession. But it's weird, right? Here's another confession: I used a footstool to get into bed for the entirety of my pregnancy. Apparently, I couldn't make it that far up? I don't know. I had forgotten about the footstool until just a bit ago when I found it behind the rocking chair in our room. What was WRONG with me? I'm short, but I'm not, you know, THAT short.



Phoebe has yet to visit a groomer. Truth is, I'm totally afraid to take her because I know she's going to HATE me afterwards. I'm concerned about her access to my face when I'm sleeping. There are some unpleasant things she could do to me that I'd rather not contemplate. But I know it needs to be done. I have found two more state-sized dreadlocks.


I meant to link to Swistle's brilliant baby food making post on my entry for yesterday. And then I didn't. And totally forgot about it. The post is here, and she has some fantastic ideas (including hiding chick peas in the baby food - see, BRILLIANT!).



Yesterday I took a picture of Alice because she was laying on the floor, face down, sucking a paci, showing me how pathetic and sad she could be. It was her first tried and true temper tantrum. And while I should have been sad and concerned, instead I thought it was pretty funny. So I took a picture.



Anyone have any fantastic weekend plans? We're CLEANING THE HOUSE. And also RAKING UNDER THE ROSEMARY BUSHES (which really truly scare the pants off of me because that's where the biggest spiders live.... which means that I'm going to be doing the majority of the raking.... shudder).



Now I want to hear at least one confession from you. Go!