Strange Stuff in Children's Books: Me Too, Paddington

As seen at a Mercy Hospital waiting room this morning.

No Honey, That Isn't How They Really Make Mustard

As seen at the grocery store.

Thanks, Mustard Monster. Your nostrils have ruined one of my family's favorite condiments:

At least they didn't use stone ground mustard for the packaging. The scar would have been bigger.

Again, here's proof there's a publication for every hobby in the world:

Apparently Elvis is alive and now sharing his Catfish bank secrets.

For a limited time:

I could comment on Paula Deen, but unlike her I've learned when to be quiet.

Sounds Like an Indictment

I saw this at the Downtown Farmer's Market this morning, and I just don't think Touched By Jane is a good name for a store front.

There were quite a few good bands down there, though. Charlotte was impressed with this bluegrass band. Check out the homemade bass. 

As I was driving home, I had the thought that if I had my own rock band, I'd want to call it Captain Smiley and the Halfbacks, and we'd only do cover songs from 1976. 

Then I realized that I'd have to be a solo artist, because no one else would want to be in that band.

Strange Stuff in Children's Books: I Hear What You Did There

We brought home some books from the library today, and I was surprised to see a book written by Weird Al Yankovic in our stack. I didn't know Weird Al wrote children's literature.

Here's the plot line provided by Amazon.com, "Eight-year-old Billy gives a flamboyant show-and-tell presentation, reciting for the class and his hapless teacher Mrs. Krupp, all the professions he has in mind for his future. From master snail trainer to dinosaur-dusting museum curator, the possibilities he imagines are seemingly endless..." -- Seira Wilson

Check out the last occupation in the third line:

The book's description continues, "... Billy’s carefree enthusiasm is contagious, and the bubbling rhythm of When I Grow Up makes it a lively read-aloud."-- Seira Wilson, Amazon.com

I don't think Seira Wilson really read this book out loud. 

Story Material: Buyer's Remorse

Every once in awhile I'll buy a t-shirt from TeeFury to give as a gift. It's a fun clothing site that offers a "Limited Edition Shirt Every Day". A couple of years ago I was sucked into their "grab bag" offer:

"WHAT'S THE GRAB BAG? RANDOM T-SHIRT FOR $7 (Plus Shipping) Seven dollars will get you a random t-shirt in the size you specify. You can order up to 12 units per size while supplies last.

OVER 70 POSSIBLE DESIGNS! The random shirt lot comes from the designs we have printed since the last Grab Bag in April including those in TFX2 battles. We also have a random mix of designs left over from previous quarters from undelivered items or other scenarios. Please check our gallery to see the potential designs." TeeFury.com

I thought, "How can I lose? All the shirts they sell are all pretty cool." Then this is what I got in the mail.

"Over 70 possible designs"? I think this shirt is sporting all 70 at once, and its rectangle layout is horrible. If I do have a distinct clothing style, then this shirt is about as far as you could get from it. "Grab Bag"? They should have called it "We-couldn't-sell-this-shirt-to-anyone-who-had-actually-seen-it, so-we-screwed-you-over Bag", and been honest about it. 

I hate this shirt. But here's the stupid part. I wear it all the time! I wore it yesterday when I mowed the lawn. See, I also hate when I get suckered into buying something while surfing the Internet (eBay should have a Breathalyzer lock), so I try to make the best of any dumb purchase I make. I don't wear this shirt in public, but I do wear it when I grill with charcoal, clean the garage, work on the Bug, take care of Charlotte when she's sick and might puke on me, make a bunch of bacon and might get splattered, re-stain the deck, or anytime I'm working with corrosive chemicals. 

I wear this stupid thing so much that I'm afraid that Charlotte might begin to think that this is my style. So I'm trying to kill this shirt. But I can't! The fabric is too durable. It keeps coming out of the dryer yelling, "Ha Ha! I live to fight another day! So screw you, Brent!"

Man, I hate this shirt. 

I'll Tell You Why I Do Like Mondays

This summer we take Charlotte to day care on Mondays. It gives Daphne and I a chance to work on personal projects, catch an afternoon movie, or enjoy a slower paced lunch with an adult conversation. I might feel guilty about leaving Char at someone else's house on my vacation day, but Charlotte loves our day care provider as much as she loves anyone in our family.

This week Daphne and I went downtown to look around West End Architectural Salvage - a store that is not small child friendly. But before we went shopping, I suggested we stop by the new hot dog place, Hotshots. I had skipped breakfast, and my idea was to grab a dog, go shopping for an hour or two, and then get lunch at Americana.

Here's the Hotshots menu:

Even though I want to own a 70's Honda CB motorcycle (last item on the menu), I'm a sucker for a chili dog, so I went with the Steve McQueen:

Daphne chose the Valentino Rossi:

I knew my idea of eating twice downtown wasn't going to work as soon as our hot dogs arrived. The hot dog itself isn't small, but once you add all the toppings and the bun, you know you aren't walking out of Hotshots hungry. We switched baskets for a couple of bites, and I can tell you that at least two of the dogs offered are really good. Located across the street from the Pappajohn Sculpture Park, this is where I'm getting my meal for our next picnic over at that park.

After shopping, we went to Zombie Burger for ice cream. We decided to share a Carrot Cake shake. The shake tasted like a carrot cake, but the pieces of carrot cake mix were really hard to suck through a straw, and we were both underwhelmed with the size of the cup. I didn't take a picture, but I almost felt like I'd need to use the "micro" setting if I did.

We weren't they only ones having fun and eating like Zombies. Char got to go to a pool, and afterwards she was so worn out and hungry that she was actually eating in her sleep. Here's some "action pictures" taken at a stop light.

Quite the multi-tasker. 

Tales from Commercial Cookbooks: Sausage Party Edition

Here's Good Housekeeping's Ten P.M. Cook Book from 1958.

There are seven recipe sections in this cook book, but this is the section that caught my attention.

If I was invited to this gathering, this dish might make me think twice about sticking around past ten p.m.

Frankly, I'd be worried that this party was supposed to be a sleepover.

Just to prove that I didn't pull these images from different cook books.

Cat Bed Update

I finally dried my eyes and took a picture of Char's new "Big Girl Bed". I have to remind myself that the older Charlotte gets, the more fun she is. Really, this new piece of furniture should be cause for celebration.

The transition from crib to big girl bed has not been seamless. Like a lot of people who have been behind bars for a while, Char's new found freedom can be a bit much for her. I can testify that her room is much messier after "nap time" than it was before. And actual bedtime as compared to "Goodnight Charlotte" time has about a 45-minute delay, but she'll figure it out.

The bed's great for Char, but every door with a pink oval slides open. Char thinks it's funny to slide a door shut with Bobo trapped inside. So far, the only way to get Charlotte to see that this isn't funny is to threaten her, "I'm just gonna take him outside and give him to another little girl who won't be mean to him." The idea of another girl even holding Bobo did the trick, and we filled the "hiding places" with buddies and blankets as another safe guard. But it's not like the cats don't play in the furniture on their own.

That also doesn't mean our cat challenges are over. I'm constantly worried Char will pull a Lennie, as in Of Mice and Men. Here are some sentences recently spoken/ yelled at our house.

"Char! You can't pick him up by his back leg!"
"Don't slap his body. You have to pet gently."
"He can't breathe when you do that."
"No. Earl is not your pillow."
"You cannot carry kitties by their necks!"
"Charlotte! He was sleeping! Nobody wakes you up by blowing a whistle in your ear."
"Oh, honey, I know that bite hurts, but he was trying to tell you, 'No, I don't want my head folded over like that'".

For everyone's' sake, I hope she figures this out, too.

Tales from Commercial Cookbooks: Innuendo Edition

"These are my Candle Salads. I hope you all like them (wink, wink, nudge, nudge)."

This recipe (scanned from the pages of a Penzeys Spices catalog) would have gotten me kicked out of my 8th grade home economics class for sure.

Everything from the "wax" on the "candles", the opening quote of the article, to her husband's name (see caption) cracks me up. Sorry Laurel, maybe my mind is still stuck in middle school...

My friends don't seem to believe me, but I keep telling them that reading recipes can be really funny.

Things to do

I found this note on the sidewalk near our house. I think it's written by one of these kids.

Man, the local playground is getting tougher and tougher.