Bleh. I am sick, will try not to wallow in my self pity for the majority of this post.
As I set this plate in front of my little guy yesterday I thought I should start an experiment, the “Eat What He Eats” project. Of course I would tinker with the rules so they weren’t retroactive. I AM NOT eating a cigar.
Do as I say boys, not as I do!
And because I feel compelled, the table top is the wonderful faux bois tin table top I got at Brimmfield. Are you like that? Do you feel compelled to tell the story of every item in your house or that your kids wear? Especially if it was procured in a thrifty fashion?! I actually have a voice in my head (doesn’t suffer from lack of company, btw) that tries to remind me not to add, “Oh I got it at the thrift shop!” to the end of every sentence. Not because I am embarrassed. Nay, I thrift proudly. But because nobody cares like I do. I can’t help it though. That’s just what a compulsion is I suppose.
And if you are wondering why there is photo of my computer screen on my blog it is because I crave to show you (hello Cindy) how clean my desktop is, well my virtual desktop anyhow. We had friends over a few weeks ago and I did the “oh crap, they are coming in 15 minutes” clean up thing and was rather pleased with the illusion results. But then sometime during conversation my friend says, “You take the prize for messiest computer ever.” or something like that. Yikes. So I didn’t tuck away my dysfunction quite as well as I thought.
So last night I organized my virtual house. The house I spend the most time in these days (I’m talking to you Etsy, Flickr, Facebook, Picnik, this blog, and the 5 real estate sites I follow).
It’s a start.
edit: I am so used to those bagels, a favorite among the guys in this family, that I didn’t think about it. But now that you mention it the bagel does fall somewhere on the turd spectrum. But don’t fear, it’s just good old pumpernickel or pumperpickle as my 6 year old used to say. He would always ask for “pumperpickle olie”, translation pumpernickel bagel with olive pimento cream cheese. My guys are not afraid of flavor.