Children of the Corn

So much has happened since the last blog I'm not going to even attempt to write about it all in detail, but I'll have to give some cliff's notes, and try my best to get on here more often. Since last time I was here, Sam put a shiny black bead up his nose - so far up, as a matter of fact, that we had to go to two different doctors before we could get it removed... I had so many catering gigs crammed into one month that I racked up a pretty decent $4482.00 food bill (wholesale, mind you) and actually lost a wheel of brie somewhere (seriously, no idea where it is... a whole wheel), plus, I wore Kate down to a little nub, and she actually crashed and left work today because she felt so beat up - haven't heard from her since, getting a little concerned ... Lily learned to sing "Bad Day" along with Sam, and asks me to play it every time we get into the car... and to finish up a seemingly endless stream of work, Sam (who must have sensed my stress level) decided that eating duck feces might be a good idea.
Should I elaborate? Sure, why not. I had Saturday morning off, and we decided to go to a craft fair at a farm in Media. We crafted, bought a couple of goofy things, then decided to have some lunch and sat down at a picnic table conveniently located next to the duck cages at the petting zoo. After a surprisingly bee-free lunch, I decided to be Elvis and buy a deep fried oreo... little sidebar, by the way, if you ever get the chance you absolutely must have a deep fried oreo. They'll shorten your life by a bit, but are well worth it... Anyway, I walked over to the fryin' vat, and as I'm waiting for my little bit of heaven to come out of the oil, I see Sara freaking out by the picnic tables. Apparently, while I was gone, Sam walked up to the duck cages, saw some corn on the ground, and even though he refuses to eat anything I make for him, decided to pick it up and eat it.
Yeah. Good job, buddy. The only thing I could really even think to say was just that too - "you won't eat anything we give you, but you eat corn out of a duck cage?" So after a call to poison control and a looooong not soon to be forgotten discussion about what things go in your mouth, all is well. On the plus side, there are only a limited number or orifices left for him to stick something in, so we should only have a few of these discussions left...
The creepy thing is (speaking of corn) since I've been ignoring the yard while I've been working, we actually started to grow corn in our lawn. Real honest to god corn, with ears and everything. No idea where it came from, but it does make the house look pretty halloween-y, so I'm letting it go. As long as Sam doesn't stick it somewhere, that is.

Soul Nugget

So Sara has been bothering me lately about blogging (other people have been too, but I talk to her a bit more often than, say, my sister in California) but to be honest, I don't really feel like writing every day. Some days I'm lazy, others exhausted or busy... but I've decided to try a bit harder, so here is my second post in as many days.
Oh yeah, I also have nothing new to say... so I decided to let you all in a little bit... show you a little slice of Joe.
I have this weird memory of helping my father build the fireplace/chimney in their house (not really helping, since I was 5 or 6 at the time) and hearing 'Rhinestone Cowboy' on the radio. Hate the song these days, but I can never seem to shake the memory of that tune. I have a Fine Young Cannibals song from my Julie Rohmer days, Siouxsie from high school and Concrete Blond from College - not to mention Marlaina's version of 'Walking in Memphis' - and a handful of others. Lots of songs take me back to a time, but a handful of them like these take me back to a single moment, and define a chunk of my life. There is one though, that has more of an impact on me that any other. For me, the perfect tune to round out any day, and to make me appreciate what I have and where I came from. Plus, the lyrics are timeless. So, without further ado, click the link below....

I Am Harry Chapin

Well, it wouldn't be a holiday weekend without the catastrophic failure of something in the household. We tried to stay away from the house as much as possible so that it wouldn't know it was a holiday - went to the zoo, a baseball game, the Winterthur gardens - but we stayed at home a bit too long on Monday morning. Apparently, sensing we were a little too relaxed, the house mustered up some bad karma and broke the kitchen faucet. Did a pretty good job too - it wasn't just leaking from a little broken part, but the whole thing seemed to at once become porous, and leaked from every exposed surface. It was fine while just sitting there, but as soon as we rinsed out a coffee cup the cabinet underneath filled up to the brim. Luckily the mouse who occasionally makes an appearance completed his WSI certification, and was safely treading water between the dog food and the borax.
After an hour or so of spewing remarkably colorful obscenities (I even surprised myself with a few of them) I managed to wrestle off the old faucet... took the boy to home depot.... and $139 later I have a new kitchen faucet, and a mouse without any recreation center.
On the plus side, the kids are still funny. The other day I scratched Sam with my whiskers when I gave him a kiss, and he asked me what they were. "Whiskers" I said, "when you get big, you'll have whiskers too."
"Yeah," he said, "when I get big I'm going to have whiskers, a big belly and a hairy butt."

... little boy blue and the man on the moon...