Too Busy To Blog

Well, theoretically, I should be too busy to blog. Yet, here I am. This is a very busy weekend. It started yesterday when Skip and I took Noe to the city (keeping anonymity here) for an appointment with her audiologist. There is not the necessary technology in our little town to regulate her hearing aids, so we sought out bigger and better. The visit was excellent (all THREE HOURS OF IT), we were so happy with the care she received.

A while back I noticed one of my new-found blogging friends lives in the area of the city. So I emailed her and said, "HEY. Wanna rendezvous?" As it turns our, her real name IS actually Jessica and she is NOT a 50 year old creepy male pervert. (As this was my husband's fear, he accompanied me on the meeting). Apparently, Jessica's husband was also slightly concerned, and joined us for lunch as well. We were well chaperoned, and it was so fun to meet someone that I have come to enjoy through blogging.

Our daughters became fast friends. Jane gave Noe a scorpion ring (which is akin to becoming blood-brothers {or sisters}) and Noe has refused to take it off. It's from "her Jane" and she loves it.

The rest of the weekend looks promising. We have had a few "school of the soldier" moments. Keola had a fit the other day and ended up breaking the entertainment center in his room. My husband suggested he learn from the school of the soldier. If you can't live in the house without destroying it, you are invited to live outside the house. In a tent. I laughed when I heard this, because recently, Katie posted about the same situation in her house. Her husband is military as well. But there he is, my little trooper, camped out in a tent for the day. Mother nature cooperated, we let him take some books and a blanket, and his two meals for the afternoon. We'll bring him back up just after he finishes his supper. He really seemed to conceptualize what was going on, and came up with some good alternatives to breaking furniture when angry. We'll see.

Lastly, we've had a little problem with the boys wanting to turn their long-sleeved shirts into some kind of handcovering. They cut a hole in the cuff of the sleeve, and poke their thumb through it. Then they stretch the sleeve over their knuckles, and it ends up looking like a ghetto glove. I finally had enough of ruined shirts. Skip and I decided they needed a special shirt. Enter the thrift shop:
The next shirt I find with thumb holes poked in the cuff goes right into the trash, and the offender will have to wear THIS beauty until they earn enough money to buy themselves a new shirt of their liking.