"Wooking for wuv in all the wrong pwaces..."

1. Jack got a singing, tail wagging stuffed dog for Valentine's Day.  Did I mention he has a speech impediment? (see subject) I have replaced the batteries in that thing a million times in an effort to thwart an immediate meltdown when the tail stops wagging.  Not to mention the severe mental distress of him sounding a bit like he's dying.  The only thing worse than a singing dog with a speech impediment is a singing dog with a speech impediment in super slow motion.  If you ever hear that I have been committed to a mental institution, you can thank the blasted singing dog.

2. As you know, I occasionally take time during Pretty Priceless Passing Points to make important public service announcements.  It's my way of giving back.  I think I've mentioned this in the past, but I strongly believe it bears repeating: Just Say No to Rose Colored Vehicles.  If we all ban together and keep our grandparents from buying them, maybe they'll stop making them.  Like Hammer pants!

3. I love musicals. Don't get me wrong--nothing picks me up like a heartfelt tune from Cabaret.  But it has always disturbed me that, in musicals, the characters suddenly--in mid-conversation--break out into song.  For the love.  Maybe the next time I'm with a group of friends, I'll break out into song to see if they join me and start dancing.  If it's Allie, she will, but I don't know about the others...although I don't know that any of them would be surprised.

4. Who does a girl have to bake cookies for in order to find a contractor to repair our bathroom floor? I could, of course, find some fern out of the phone book, but that scares me.  Apparently, I'm the only person in the free world who has ever had to have a floor pulled up and re-done.  When I find one, I'll let you know who he is so if, heaven forbid, YOU have to have your floor done, you'll know who to call.  Let me spare you the pain of having your toilet in your bathtub for OVER A FRIGGIN' MONTH while you find one.  I can feel my veins bulging as I type.

5. Okay, I have a story  to tell.  I should warn you that this story is rated PG-13. I'm going to keep my distressing tale as clean as I can in an effort to shield you from the horror I had to face.  They say talking about things will help you cope with them, so I'm going to give it a whirl.  Take a minute to go get a drink of water and make a tasty finger sandwich, then settle in and recommence readage:

It was an afternoon like any other.  We (me, The Jack, the Boy) were in the garden picking tomatoes and cucumbers as our garden runneth over.  I thought it would be an excellent opportunity to teach the Jackster a lesson in being a friendly neighbor so we load up his little wagon and visit our neighbors in an effort to share our bounty.  We got to the house two houses north of us and knocked. No answer, no answer.  After a bit, I told Jack that no one was home, let's go across the street.  Just then, the door opened.  Yikes. The fern at the door looked a bit disheveled, as though he had just woken up.  The first thing I noticed was that he was wearing hot pants. (I've mentioned THIS before too, but not unlike the rose car situation--it bears repeating. Dudes should NOT look like they're wearing their little sisters britches. Honestly.) But, oddly enough, the hot pants were NOT the end of his worries.  He had an unfortunately located hole in said hot pants. I can only say this: I saw it.  Now, let me just clarify, this was not a "sing a hymn" moment, it was a "don't throw up on the doorstep moment."  I immediately begin looking everywhere but, well, THERE, and at him because I just couldn't. I looked like a crazy woman looking all around asking if he wanted tomatoes.  My laws.  Needless to say, unless fire and eminent danger are involved, I will NEVER knock on that door again.

6. So, we went camping over Labor Day weekend and my hair still smells like campfire.  Now, the first day you're camping, nothing smells better than a campfire.  However, 4 days after you come home it just isn't as welcome a scent.

7. I must express my sincerest disappointment that "Ellen" has moved to a different time.  Previously, it could be seen at 10AM which worked great since that's when Jack goes down for a nap.  Now, it's at 4, right smack dab in the middle of "get dinner ready" time.  Obviously nobody consulted me before making this change.  So today, it's 10:00 and Jack goes down for his nap.  I needed to do some ironing and turned on the TV to pass the time. Well, my choices are: Judge Alex, the Tony Danza show and Good Day Utah.  I think it's pretty obvious which I chose.  Can I just say, "Good Day Utah" pretty much embodies everything I hate about Utah?  The three hostesses are these giggly, perfect moms/wives and some scrapbook company was there showing them how easy it is to make a 4x4 fold out purse kind of thing that you can keep pictures of your children and grandchildren in.  Okay, let me preface my criticism by saying that I like scrapbooking, though I'm currently "taking a break" from the hobby.  But honestly  friends.  These things were just corny. I mean, they'd be cute for a little girl to carry around somewhere but after age 8 I'm going to have to go ahead and discourage the carrying of paper purses.  Good grief.

8. Now let's discuss "Studio 5." Another cutesy local "The View" knockoff with special guests, craft ideas, recipes and a special segment called, "road trippin." Gag me with a spoon. (I WILL bring that saying back, mark my words!) This is the lamest thing I've ever seen.  The two hosts have huge white teeth and the "spiritual voice" that just grates on my nerves....you may be wondering why I wasted my time watching it.  Let me say that A. I wasn't done ironing and B. they had the Flylady as one of their guests. you may be wondering who the flylady is.  Let me tell you.  Now, any mention of the word "FlyLady" will send my dearest darling Boy running in the opposite direction shouting "Cult!" "Cult!" but I say, whatever results in his having a clean house, a replenished underwear drawer and warm dinner when he gets home at night he should consider heaven sent and should therefore be nice.  She's speaking at a conference tomorrow and is therefore in town.  I love FlyLady.  You can see her website at www.flylady.com for more information. I highly recommend.

9. My name is Peggy and I'm addicted to fabric.  I love fabric. Be it in bolts, yards or scraps, I love it.  Just walking through fabric stores gives me palpitations.  If you know of a support group, please let me know.  It would make my husband incredibly happy if I attended some sort of meetings to overcome said addiction.

10. So I had a coupon for one of those Airwick spray a bit every few minutes kind of contraptions.  Peggy's Weakness Number 877: things that smell good. While I must confess it's at times (every 36 minutes to be exact) startling to hear a poof of air freshener getting sprayed into the air, it's pleasant to enjoy the lingering aroma....ahhhh...sparking citrus loveliness...