More Wiener Weiners

 

 

Thoughtful Weiner

 

 

 

Playful Wiener

Stately Weiner

Precocious Wiener

Sweet Weiner

 

 

 

 

Is it Wiener or Weiner?

I am getting way too many giggles out of the weiner thing. Clarence is the total shit, and we all adore him, and best of all? The wiener references are not wearing thin.

The BBE is completely in love with the baby boy, carrying him all around, making goo-goo noises, and generally just snarfling all over the little guy. Which inevitably leads to me, sniggering, asking how much he loves his weiner.

Yes, the conversation around here is mighty high-brow. All kinds of wiener talk: is the weiner cold? is the wiener hot? happy weiner? playful wiener? All of it accompanied by sophomoric snickers, because we are WAY too easily amused.

 The BBE, by the way, would like multiple wieners.  Me?  Not so sure.

Death by Laundry

Having never caught up from the holiday laundry, the onslaught brought on by having a houseload of kids for the past three days has truly tipped the tower. I can’t ever stay on top of it all — there’s not enough time in the day. On any given day there piles of laundry, waiting to be folded, although there have been a few Golden Days when everything has been washed, dryed, folded, and put in its place.

But a bevy of house-bound teenaged girls — well there ain’t nothin’ like it for creating laundry chaos. How many times do they need to change clothes every day? What is the deal with piles of wet clothes left like land mines all over the house? And why can’t they ever find their previous towel when it’s time for a new one? I feel like a dorm mom.

So if you hear about some lady found dead, suffocated by the four tons of laundry that fell on her head, well that’s me.

On another front, “The Heart is a Lonely Hunter” just came on the tv, and I have it on mute. Heh heh.

Best Late-Night Snack

To be consumed after watching Nacho Libre ’til the wee hours, because tomorrow is a 1/2 Snow Day. Yeah baby.

So it will be:

1. Homemade french bread, warmed up, with olive oil for dipping: or
2. Pseudo-Nachos (cheese on lowfat Triscuits, broiled); or
3. Breyer’s slow-churned coffee icecream with dark chocolate sauce.

Okay, so how funny is Nacho Libre when the bottom half of his monk robe burns off, and he’s half monk half wrestler? Or when he flexes his buns for the nun? Or his high-waisted fighting panties? Or the “hug hug, big kees”? Or this:  “I ate some bugs, I ate some grass, I used my hand, to wipe my tears…”.   Now THAT is some funny bullshit.

Polly Anna

Tomorrow is gonna be another Snow Day, and the babies are psyched. The Littlest is off at a friend’s house, the Boy recently reappeared with two of his buds (a tree fell on the power lines where they were — they came to the closest place with electricity).

We had quite the crowd of girls here today — piles of teenagers playing in the snow, watching movies, playing Dogopoly, and eating. And eating. And eating. Seriously, they’re like a horde of locusts, descending and devouring. It’s pretty awesome.

So I know I’m driving some of my BlogBuds nuts with the happy business, but a lot of it has to do with the age of the babies. They wipe their own bums, don’t demand constant entertainment, and will actually help clean the house on occasion (so yeah threats and/or bribery might be involved but still — they help). Plus the BBE is the handiest guy around, making piles of grilled cheese sandwiches, transporting the masses, and just generally being the BBE. (Which translates to ‘my hero’, and the guy who brings me coffee every morning and wine at night).

Well anyway the babies will be gone WAY too soon, and most of the time I really do like being with them, so fuck it. Shoot me. I’m all happy about another Snow Day.

So while I’m in the confessional, there’s also this: I cut/pasted all the Christmas cards from the last two years into a binder. I have all picture cards since 1986 (the year BBE and I were married), all in binders. Yeah, whatever — I’m a Martha. But you know what? All these teenagers love to look at the cards. While they’re eating. Have I mentioned the eating thing?