Saturday morning TV without cable stinks.

Since I became a working woman (in the totally legitimate sense of the word), I actually have become accustomed to a normal sleeping pattern. This means that when Saturday morning rolls around, I'm usually up by 8. Which may not sound early, but trust me, it is.

This morning, I've been putting off cleaning like I need to, and putting off about 4 hours of summarizing documents for work. Instead I turned on the TV and realized that Saturday morning TV isn't what it used to be. Right now, "Trading Spaces: Boys vs. Girls" is on. Like anyone really believes these two 10 year olds designed this room and created the blue prints for making a "covered wagon" bed. And next on, Flight 29 down which is a spoof (Jr. version?) of Lost.

I think I'd rather be cleaning.

In case we needed further proof that nothing is safe from reality TV:

ABC has ordered scripts and episode outlines for a new Muppets reality show. The premise of the show is that America will be able to choose the next Muppet. No word whether the Muppet winner gets $1 million or a record contract with Simon Cowell.

Pony Express

I'd like to know why the post office stopped forwarding my mail over a month ago but still sends me mail clearly addressed to my brother.

The Mom Blog

I've been meaning to link for a while, but the Mom has a blog. You can find her here. She will keep the Jesus Town alive, I'm sure.

Hit and Run

I was involved in a hit and run this morning. I hit, he ran.

Actually, it was completely his fault so he probably because he didn't have insurance/license. Unfortunately for me, I had to wait around for an hour for the police and had very little info for him when he got there.

It was one of those situations where I was travelling in 1 of 3 lanes and the idiots in the lanes next to me waived a guy across to turn. Only my lane wasn't stopped but was proceeding at about 30 mph. My airbag didn't go off but I hit him pretty hard. And in the commotion of trying to get out of the way so I didn't get hit again, he sped off and I only got 2 numbers on his plate.

Based on the speed at impact and the very minor damage to my car, his car must have some signficant damage. He was broadsided after all. The cop told me that if he had time today he'd patrol around the area to see if he could find the car. So if anyone sees a white Chevy Caprice with body damage to the passenger side front door and red paint rubbed off, just point at him. Since it's not like you could help me much anyway.

But it's just my luck considering I just got this car in May. It's now broken in, in more ways than one.

1 yr olds.

It's my niece's birthday. Can't believe it's been a year. So today is one of those days I can remember exactly where I was a year ago.

And I can remember where I was exactly 5 years ago today (I checked the calendar to be sure of the date). Wonder if the parents can make the connection. Cause no one else ever will.

Words of the Wise

Anyone else noticing that the universal advice to new attorneys appears to be "Don't miss a deadline."

Just me?

Handy Heidi

I don't know what it is about me, but whenever I enter into a home improvement store the sales people flock to me like I look like the type of person who should get my hardware in nice pretty packages at Target. Now, no one is beating down my door asking me to be the next host of This Old House, but I can distinguish between a band saw, jigsaw and circular saw.

Nevertheless, I stopped in tonight to pick up some S hooks. I managed to dart in and out of the aisles avoiding the sales people like the plague. But just as I was reaching the hardware section, a sales associate found me in his crosshairs and I was accosted. Next came the dreaded, "can I help you find something?" question. Generally, I answer this with a, "No thanks, I'm just browsing." But that doesn't tend to work as well at Home Depot as it does at Parisian.

I was within spitting distance of the S hooks, but I told the sales associate what I was looking for, expecting a simple point. Instead, I'm taken on a 15 aisle hike through the store looking for them, only to end up back at the aisle where I was picked up. Had I been a busy gal with places to go, I would have cut it off at the start, but I so enjoyed my opportunity to smirk and snicker. Those happen so rarely anymore.

KITTY

We took the granddaugher to a local petting zoo, hoping she would not be afraid of the small animals. She wasn't. As the baby donkey was held closer for her examination, she called him "kitty" and tried to stick her finger up his nose. We never thought about the animals being afraid. She tried to touch bunny kitty, but he got away. No matter how many times she called "kitty" to him, he wouldn't return for a finger up his nose. And calf kitty was too poopy for grandma's approval. (And yes, we immediately washed her hands.) Once home the tyke was able to pet, pat, pull, squeeze, kiss, hug, and sit on the real kitty. Bet he wishes he could live in a cage in the petting zoo.
The Mom