Look at me with the posts!

Yes, I'm updating... again... which throws my average time between updates into a mathematical anomalous frenzy. But in the interest of consistency, I have nothing important to say.

Betsy and I are making a list of stuff we want to sell at a garage sale in May. So far we have a bunch of stuff that, if seen at someone else's garage sale, would make us wonder, possibly out loud, "Who buys this crap?" We have about a hundred or so VHS tapes, a coffee table, a rug, some toys with mystery grime in all of the crevices, video games compatible with only obsolete systems, and a bunch of my stuff that Betsy doesn't want anymore.

I love garage sales. You get to see your neighbors in a whole new setting: their garage, wedged into a lawn chair or perched on a kitchen stool, drinking a diet cola or bottled water. Amidst 100 piece puzzles with 94 pieces and one-armed action figures and plastic baggies filled with teeny tiny guns and swords and Lego pieces, which, for some reason, are always grouped together, and the train track (still-in-box) which is labeled as having all its pieces, but, alas, no engine and kids clothes grouped together by age instead of by size as if all eight year old girls are the same size and the one moldy bowling shoe, you get a clear glimpse of the core of the individual. These are the things that they no longer want but that they are unwilling to dismiss as valueless. Anthropologists thousands of years from now would do well to study the garage sale, but they'll probably be too busy looking at our fossilized poop.

So, break out the folding tables and portable DVD player! We're hunkering down for a long Saturday of avoiding eye-contact and hoping that the obnoxious neighbor kids stay in their own yard.

Gum

So, my five-year old son has begun what I can only assume is going to be a long, moderately successful career as a criminal. I shall explain in the next paragraph.

Betsy left a pack of gum on the stairs, meaning to carry it up to her office when next she aimed herself in that direction. But when she went upstairs, she forgot about the gum, on account of its not being there. Days pass and Betsy recalls having placed a pack of gum on the stairs, but can't seem to figure out what happened to it.

Fast forward through much searching, many questions and several stern accusations. Normally we wouldn't put so much effort into finding a pack of gum, but with a toddler, a preschooler, and an aging dog in the house, we thought it would be best to locate the gum.

Fast forward through the rest of the stern accusations to the point where Jack confesses to having taken the gum, hidden it in his room, and at some point in the following two days or so, having also eaten, not chewed, eaten the entire pack. Fifteen pieces of gum, straight down the hatch. If my elementary school mythological mathematics is correct, he should be digesting the last of the gum in about one hundred and five years.

Okay, here I go.

I've been having a really weird few weeks. Jack turned 5 and Betsy and I got him signed up for kindergarten and I got really, really constipated and didn't eat anything for about two days because everything I ate just kept stacking up on top of everything else I had eaten and I just kept getting rounder and rounder and feeling like I was stuffed with wet clay. So, I drank some magnesium citrate and pooped like a fire hose. My pooping is back to normal but my son is still 5 and is still starting school in the fall.

Most of my time has been spent arranging various things for my OTHER website, which isn't any more interesting than this one. However, the lack of updates on THAT website is the fault of my friend, Brian, who has all of the computer know-how and is just as lazy and as creatively impotent as I am.

Macy is talking a lot more, which I love because everything she says is so cute and stupid. Kids are fun that way.

Betsy is still pregnant, which I may not have even mentioned yet, but she is. September 18 is the tentative launch date. I feel way less anxious with this one. That seems unfair somehow. With Jack it was nine months of overreacting to ever little thing. With Macy it was nine months of wondering about the child's sex (we found out ahead of time with Jack, but we waited with Macy) and trying to remember what was coming next. This time, we're both tired all of the time and kids are such a constant part of our lives (what with the daycare and all) that adding one more to the household doesn't seem like a very big deal. Poor kid. Not even born and it's already being ignored.

And the weather has been pretty nice, lately, too.

Updates forthcoming...

I'm getting around to it, people... person... alleged person. I really am. I'll be writing something soon, I promise. I am currently busy with life stuff and a jigsaw puzzle. I'm pretty swamped. But soon... soon.