I have been flirting with the notion of becoming a little less wired in, a little less subject to the whims of instant news and gratification.  My Google reader is so full of posts, there will be no way to read them all.  I read the ones I can't live without and delete the rest.  My commenting has taken a nose dive; not that that is a wrenching prospect for anyone to be deprived of my snark.  I  even deactivated my Facebook account and then reactivated it in fear of being yelled at by the Young one...she of the logical argument and Mommy voice. Had the Nav and the Nav's wife not been living in the desert-y island nation I doubt even the Young one could have made me reactivate.  I even thought I should delete this little experiment in narcissism and I'm not quite convinced it won't happen.  My cell phone is an instrument of torture which is why it is usually "left" somewhere, the house phone goes unanswered more often than not, and I've begun to loathe the sound of the doorbell.  I'm watching Shrek by myself right now, the kids are in bed, and I think it's because I'm identifying with him.  Antisocial behavior are us!

We went over the the Senior and Mrs. Chief's house last night to burn wood, roast marshmallows, and talk loud way into the night.  Basically, all the things I'm forbidden to do in my neighborhood because of the Homeowner's Association Nazis.  This put us coming home in the wee hours and made getting up for the whole church thing an exercise in futility (getupgetupgetupgetupgetup!).  Since FB is such a giant, we have graduated from zipper ties to actual, real live, adult ties.  He is so tall now that even in 3 inch heels I can't stand behind him to show him how to tie the thing and still see what I'm doing.  I then tried to tie it standing in front of him and got myself so hopelessly confused, I had that rabbit around the tree, up the block, and relaxing in a spa.  I ripped it off his neck in frustration so fast it left scorch marks on his collar, tied it on myself and then retied it on him, carefully explaining as I went.  Next time it's his turn.  See one, do one, teach one, that's the nurse's way of edumacation!  Let's see if he can do it without the swearing.  We showed up to church about 40 minutes late and we're regaled with a talk on how to keep the Sabbath holy and foremost in our hearts.  First of all by being on time to our meetings.  Yeah?  Well, that's not going to happen, so give me some other ideas.  I then got tagged to teach FB's Sunday School class because his teacher just decided not to show up or get a sub.  So, I'm sitting in a room with 3 goofy, giggly 11 year old boys and 3 stone faced 11 year old girls talking about the story of Moses.  Because I talk so fast and there wasn't exactly a tsunami of classroom participation, we spent the last 15 minutes playing "Spiritual Hangman,"  the standby of my teenage years in North Cackalacky .

SoS asked me today, "Mommy?  What would happen if you got remarried on accident?" 
Me:  "Dude, if I ever get remarried, it wouldn't be an accident, it would be on purpose.  I'm not Brittany Spears."
SoS:  "But what if you have another baby?"
Me: "Wow, so not going to happen!"

FB had a friend stay the night on Friday night and, as I'm making pancakes Saturday morning, I notice as I'm flipping them the non-stick coating is coming off and becoming embedded in the hotcakes.  Would you like a side of Alzheimer's or cancer with your breakfast item?  Abort!  Abort!  Must now buy new griddle.  My parent's still use the same griddle for pancakes that we used growing up.  I don't see any carcinogens flaking off that puppy. 

Knucklehead McSpazatron is doing his twice yearly coat blow (heh.  that sounds dirty.  heh.) so I decided to take the Furminator to him because I tire of the guinea pigs he's leaving everywhere he goes.  I could have a knitted an afghan for every man, woman and child on the West Coast with the amount of hair I dug out of his hide.  Then I snagged the Cat from Hell and I could have made matching scarves and mittens.  No wonder I'm hot at night; the layer of cat hair on my bed is causing me to be super insulated. 

It hit a whole 75 degrees yesterday, which means it was time to break out water guns, and turn the big toy into a giant water slide.  The boys made it extra slippery by the addition of dishsoap.  I was completely on board with the whole idea, but I had a few trepidations regarding whether or not this activity would be covered in my homeowner's policy when they snapped their bones like driftwood twigs.  They shot down that slide like shi'ite through a goose to be sure.  I was so destined to be mother of boys.