Smell Like a Monster

The cutest video since...well, the original Old Spice video. I love Grover and you need something to smile at. You're welcome!



Also, this is a fantastic song, so you need to watch this, too. Crayola Doesn't Make a Color for your Eyes, by Kristin Andreassen. Awesome sauce!

Need that dog!

From today's Off the Mark comic.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I don't know how I wound up here, but I did. These are some crazy wonderful sites!

You really must go see them!

I especially liked this one (Takes a long time to load, but it's worth it!) and this one (Loads really fast and is great street photography. There's something incredibly beautiful about the girl in the orange sweater and the little pink socks. You'll know what I mean when you get there.).

Now...what was I doing again?

Clicky! Clicky!

When gaming and politics collide

Click to enlarge to enjoy all of its geeky goodness.

This will probably only be funny to you if you play World of Warcraft. I loved it!

Broken

A car, a lawnmower, a toilet and a dishwasher walk into a bar. Each was feeling grumpy and out of sorts.

"They don't appreciate me!" the car growled, nursing a Long Island Iced Tea. "I work and work and work! I take the entire load of howler monkeys everywhere they need to go, in comfort and style and do they take care of me? No! Let's see how they like it when I don't start anymore!"

"Yah? You t'ink dat's so bad? I gotta eat alla dat grass. And it ain't like it's just grass, neither. Naw, they gots weeds all ovah da place! Who the hell wantsah eat dat crap alla da time? I'm sick uv it! I'm done!" The lawnmower slams its pint of beer onto the table angrily. Beer sloshes onto the tabletop and drips onto the floor.

"Grass?!" the dishwasher cried, affronted. "All you have to eat is grass and maybe some weeds? Try my diet some time! I have to eat everything. All! The! Time! I have to work twice or even three times a day. And if they have a party?!" Dishwasher rolls its eyes dramatically. "Four or maybe even five times in a single day! They don't even rinse all that thoroughly, either. Like they expect my built in disposer to handle all of that food they're constantly eating! What are they? Gluttons? The food making never stops! All day long: eat, eat, eat! I'm so sick of it! I'm going on strike! See how they like that!" The dishwasher folds its arms over it's metal chest and leans back in its chair. The space in front of it remains conspicuously empty of drink.

A drunken snort escapes from Toilet's mouth. The other three turn and regard it with curious hostility.

"You three think you have it soooo bad. You know what I think?" The toilet slams back yet another whiskey and gestures angrily at the others with the bottle, its hand wrapped tightly around the bottle's neck. "I think you're all a pack of whiners!" The others explode with indignation. The toilet ignores them and continues pouring and drinking until they stop sputtering and wildly gesticulating.

"Twenty years I been in that house. Twenty! Years! Two different families. Hundreds of guests. I got a little somethin' to tell you about that. You think you can handle this?" Glares bounce between the affronted parties, but they wait and they listen. "I've seen more ass than I ever cared to! You!" Toilet finger jabs at the air in front of Car. "Nobody goes for a drive when they feel sick! And you! You ain't even been used this summer 'cause the grass hasn't even been growin' until just now! You oughtta be ashamed!" Guilty as charged, Lawnmower looks away from Toilet's righteous anger. "As for you," The dishwasher leans back to avoid the noxious fumes pouring out of the toilet. "You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about! At least you get to see the food before it comes out! Me? I'm signed up for 'In SICKNESS annnnd in health. 'Til death do us part!' Ain't none a'y'all can beat that! Frickin' pansies!"

-----

Yes. It's true. In the same week, my car, dishwasher, toilet and lawnmower broke down on me. We had the car fixed, replaced the toilet, shopped for a new dishwasher that will hopefully arrive before the week is out (Or my hands fall off, whichever comes first. We make an AWFUL lot of dirty dishes around here!), but Eric is still trouble-shooting the lawnmower issue. Frickin' dilletante mower!

Toadally Squeamish

Got another toad today!

Still couldn't touch it.

You know, it's funny: I don't consider myself very girlish most of the time but when it come to the bugs and toads issue, I'm a complete wimp. I cannot make myself hold one or touch one.

I had a Daddy Longlegs crawling on me yesterday, freaked out and whacked it off of me. I think I turned it into a Daddy Seven Legs. Sorry Mr. Spider! Bleaaargh!

Today, out at the farm, Heather found another toad for me. She picked him up (I think this one is a male because it squeaked. The other one never made a single sound. BTW, she's still alive and hanging out in my yard. That, however is another story.) while he peed frantically, trying to convince her to let him go, she let her kids hold it and then popped it into the Bug Box for me to take home. My other toad, she needs a friend! All the while, I marveled over how easy it was for her to hold it and then laughed semi-hysterically when it lunged in my general direction.

Ack! Eeek! Ewww!

Not so brave around the squishy things in life, am I?

Well, as I was driving away, with the toad in Bug Box, sitting on the passenger side floor of the car, I suddenly figured that I should prop the box up so it didn't fall over and let the toad out. At that very moment, the toad gave a huge Heave! and forced its way out of the box.

The toad was loose in my car.

As the semi-hysterical laughter bubbled up in my throat, I considered my options:

1. Stop the car, get out and get Heather to get the toad. Nah. Too wimpy.
2. Stop the car, get out and get the toad myself. No waaaaay.
3. Drive home, carefully, and get Eric to get the toad. Sounded good, so that's what I did.

Did I mention that I had sudden vision of getting in a car accident on the way home and having headlines reel across the TV screen:

Toad Causes Six Car Pile Up
Woman Crashes Car, Blames Toad: "It Touched Me!", she screamed.
Toad 1, Hatchet 0

You get the idea.

Well, I was almost home. I'd been listening to the toad shuffle around and squeak underneath the passenger seat. I kept hoping it would remain on that side of the car because it would get really messy really fast if it decided to crawl under my feet. At the last turn, I heard a shuffling noise, looked down, and there was the toad, looking up at me from its position in the door pocket.

I have to tell you, I screamed in, yes, semi-hysterical laughter. OK, maybe it was hysterical. You'll never know!

I mentally willed that sucker to not touch me! and somehow, it knew better than to jump out of that pocket and into my lap. Instead, it jumped under my seat. I consider the fact that I didn't floor it the rest of the way home an incredible display of Iron Will. Be amazed!

Upon entering the garage, I called Eric on the cell phone and asked him to come rescue me.

"The toad! The toad is loose in my car! Come get it!"

He laughed at me, but you know what? He came and got it and that's what really matters.

Then he released it out by the pond in back. Hopefully it will find Bouncer and they'll hit it off. I wish them lots of Toad Luck.

They'd just better not touch me!

Hatchet's Day Spa

Hey! You!

Wanna lose weight and gain muscle? Would you like to get a nice golden tan? Do you want to get in touch with Nature (And have Nature get in touch with you!)? Are you tired of riding that exercycle to no where? Lifting those dumb dumbbells?

Then join me at Hatchet's Day Spa!

Just the place to get in shape and make a difference in your community.

Surrrre some people call it (Insert sarcastic eye roll and double quote rabbit ear fingers here -->) "Farming", but where else can you muscle up, slim down, commune with nature (Where sometimes "commune" means "be eaten alive by mosquitos"), eat what you're working on and get a tan?

Get handy with a shovel! Dig some holes. Move some compost. Plant a few hundred plants!

Need a cardiovascular workout? Run planting equipment from one end of the field to the other!
Interested in strength training? Haul loads of compost or water here and there!
Looking for some quiet time and a chance to meditate? Pull some weeds!

Just don't forget your bug spray and your sun block!

Manicures and pedicures not available. Get used to the way a Dirt-i-cure looks on your hands and feet. Learn which lotions really work on softening up chapped and callused hands. Get comfortable being sweaty and dirty and make showering really worthwhile.

Come on down and get dir-taaaaay!


Hmmm....Perhaps I should rename myself Woman with a Shovel?

What has happened to my brain?

When I talk about Locavores and "serious" issues:


When I talk about gardening:

When I talk about babies:


Says a lot about me, doesn't it?

A Scientific Approach to Cat Ownership

see more crazy cat pics

You needed a smile today, didn't you?


And now, a musical interlude.


I love the markings on Sparta. If I had the cash to buy a purebred, I'd get the Bengal. Except without all of the biting. Bad pet owner, encouraging the biting!

Here's an IT review of kitties, aka cat larva.

Tell me about your favorite pet in the comments. Hippos, anyone?!

2 out of 3 children say: Ah-choo!

Welcome to Hatchet's House of Suck! Where you, too, can get a 100+ degree fever and hang out!

Logan is sick. We noticed right away last night when he didn't let us sleep AT ALL. And felt pretty warm. He was like a little hot water bottle baby. Mmm. Warm!

What is it with kids getting sick at night and on the weekends?

His burning desire to see the inside of an emergency clinic was thwarted by early morning hours at our pediatrician's office and because he never spiked a temperature over 101.5. Clearly his puny efforts (100.4) weren't enough.

Logan however, thinks he's dying. He has a Man Cold.


He even started planning out his tiny will.

"I wants to be berrid wif mah blankie an' mah yewwow puppy and sum chew toys. Like a Pharoah Kingy-thingy. I coulda been A KING! Cut down in mah yoof. Dis a tragiddy of epic 'portions!"

Emma failed to be sympathetic. "Whatchu 'plainin' 'bout? I gotted a cold when Ah was only a week old! Dis is nuffinks!"

Logan, in between moaning and slamming his head into my collarbone, cut her out of his will, "Jus' for dat you get nuffinks! Nuffinks for you! I take all my toys wif me! An' you be sorry when I all gone." Cough cough. Moan.

"I sorry. You mus' be really sick." Pat, pat, pat. "Ya big baby."

Quiz Time!

Today's topic: Naps.

You're sitting on the sofa, nursing your child. Do you:

1. Nurse the baby to sleep and pass out with it.
   
2. Nurse the baby to a certain point of sleepiness and then put it into its crib and let it fall asleep there.
   
3. Nurse the baby to a certain point of sleepiness and then lovingly pat and soothe it until it falls asleep, then place it into its crib and nap in your own bed.
   
4. Nurse the baby. Continue nursing the baby. This baby has no Off switch.

The sound of the phone wakes you. Do you:

1. Wake up, startled, completely unsure of how much time has passed. Five minutes? Thirty minutes? Two minutes, four seconds? Long term sleep deprivation has shattered your internal clock. You do not actually answer the phone because you can't get your brain to engage your legs.
   
2. Answer the phone, then return to whatever you were doing.
   
3. What phone? You have the ringer turned off. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
   
4. Nurse the baby. Curse the caller under your breath. Consider getting caller id (if you don't have it) or consider calling whomever it is back at 3:05 am. Baby might be sleeping then.

You notice that your arm is going numb from holding the baby. Do you:

1. Gently switch the baby's position to be more comfortable for you and then curse your folly. You have woken the sleeping baby.
   
2. You're busy getting stuff done. That baby is sleeping on its own. Sucker!
   
3. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Sleep is blissful, is it not?
   
4. Nurse the baby. Let arm, legs, and feet go numb. Do Not! Disturb! Potentially! Slee--! Crap! Baby heard your thoughts and is fully awake again. Thanks a lot. Curse the world for existing.

Your baby is now awake. Do you:

1. Lie there and pretend to be asleep, hoping baby will buy it and fall asleep again while you silently cursing your stupidity and you mentally prepare a blog post about it. Too bad the computer isn't nearby.
   
2. Pat and soothe the baby back to sleep. Nap time isn't over yet, Junior! Continue with your day.
   
3. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Now you're getting to the really good part of your dream. Baby is, too. What an angel!
   
4. I hate you! I hate you and all of your little sleeping buddies! Devise evil plans for those that answer C.

Your baby latches on again and falls back to sleep. Do you:

1. Thank your lucky stars and pass out for another unknown time period. Determine you can't fall asleep (Why?! Why?!) and go make up a blog post.
   
2. Your house is clean, your bills paid, your dinner planned (and possibly even cooking in the slow cooker), your laundry done and you are showered and perky. Must be time to go pick up any other kids from school!
   
3. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Roll over and sigh happily. Get more comfortable. Someone else is taking care of your child in the afternoon while you rest.
   
4. Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Wonder how much sleep you'd get if you offered your soul to an unspecified supernatural power? Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

If you answered:

1. You are me. Hi me!
   
2. You are so darned organized! Give yourself a big hand and take a bow!
   
3. You are a Sleep Swami. Teach me your ways, O Wise One!
   
4. You are exhausted. I'm sorry. I'll think quieter next time. Hi Ali! (Sorry, couldn't resist!)

This quiz brought to you by Logan and the Power of the Sleep Deprived Brain. It's a lot like insanity, but a lot less fun.

My last quiz is here.

Updated to add: Wow! That was exactly one year and one month ago! I'm goooood! Or exactly eleven months ago. Whatever! My math abilities are just as wrecked as my time sense.

Yup. we're just like that

Today's XKCD comic.

The Sloganizer

Yes. Yes I am.

Most likely.

More appropriate than they'll ever know. Currently? Logan.

Get more here.

--Hat tip to The Bloggess.

Photos have been added to Nineteen Weeks.

Eric says...

We were discussing baking issues at high altitude, when Eric said:

"That's why, if you had an unlimited budget and you were tired of having to make adjustments all the time, you could get a hyperbolic chamber to cook in. It would be great!" Stops to think of all the time he would save.

"You mean hyperbaric. If it were a hyberbolic chamber, it would be the Best! Chamber! Ever! You would never want to leave! It would be so FABULOUS! Wow!"

At this, Eric and Caitlin cracked up. Eric might have even blushed a little in embarrassment. Caitlin, who has been reading Calvin and Hobbes, added yet another strange word to her list (Defenestrate! Metropolis! Municipality! Thoroughfare! Serene! Calvin & Hobbes was awesome for improving your vocabulary. I miss those comics.), laughed just to laugh. We explained the difference later.

Yet another reason why it's good to be married to me. Somebody's got to know the difference between hyperbolic and hyperbaric.

At Chez Hatchet, that would be me.

Caitlin says...

Caitlin to Eric, on the way to school:

"Logan's making a grumpy face. I think he's plotting against us."

Ruh-roh!

All the difference in the world

Click to enlarge the Baby Blues comic.

That's it exactly. And so we discover yet another difference between men and women.

What do I think about?

Laundry, gardening, gaming, needing a haircut, eczema, Caitlin's schoolwork, needing new shoes, the primaries, desperately needing sleep, what will I write tomorrow, the house needs cleaning, and what were those dates I needed to write on the calendar? It's a wonder I can ever sleep.

Oh, wait....

Tit for Tat

The scene: we were talking for the babies, as usual (What? You don't talk for your babies? Come onnnn. Everybody does it!). I had Emma and Eric had Logan. Logan had finished nursing a short while ago and Emma, who'd just recently awakened was waiting for her turn. In order to put the grumpy Logan down, Eric had to be ready for a hand off. Emma "complained" that Logan was guarding "her" breast from her.

Minutes after she finally got to nurse, Eric was back in the room with Logan who was looking for more milk.

Emma: "No! No milk for you! These are mine!" Protectively throws an arm across the other breast.
Logan: "Noooo! You can't have both! Dat one's my breast!"
Emma: "Not today! You kept me waiting for mine for so long. Now you have to wait."
Logan: "Dat's not fair!"
Emma: "Is, too. I here now. You go away! Mine! You blocked me from mine, you not get yours."
Logan: "Oh, so it's tit for tat now, is it?"

Hatchet cracks up laughing. Eric wins the "argument".

A few minutes later, a vicious karate fight breaks out and Emma is knocked out of the way by a flying kick.

Yeah, I know, it's a lot funnier if you're here.

And sleep deprived. We're hysterically funny if you're sleep deprived.

Death by haberdashery

Staying up late and reading XKCD, I've decided that I, too, have died in a blogging accident.

It was just as awful and messy as you might expect a blogging accident to be. Words were misused. Punctuation was missing or overused. It was a horrible sight.

Ninja Illness

Have you ever noticed that during the times when you're sick enough to lose your voice and no one can hear you anymore that apparently they can't see you any more, either?

I am Ninja!

With laryngitis.

There you are, stuck with one crying child in your arms and another in a swing and you're waving your arms madly at your 6 year old as if you're trying to catch some air and she can't see you. Now, this is mitigated by the fact that she's reading and you know she can't hear anything while she's reading (apparently an inheritable trait from moi), including your desperate Psst! Psssst! Now you sound like a tire expiring upon the road, but you cannot be heard over the cries of twins.

Now what?

Now, of course, you pound on the table like you're trying to make a point in debate class. When that doesn't work, it's time to pound on the wall like an inmate trying to get out.

An inmate of the loony bin, of course.

Where else would you find such a sight? Wild eyed, wild haired, PJ-clad woman desperate to escape.

To the bathroom.

I think I might have to produce some paper signs to wave about.

I spent all night tap-tap-tapping Eric on the chest like that famous Raven, only there would be no croaking Nevermore! from my throat. Whispering just doesn't have that oomph, ya know?

Tap tap = Get the baby.
Tap tap tap = Take this baby.
Tap tap tap! = Get the other baby.
Tap tap tap tap = Take this one now.

Booting with feet didn't go over well, I noticed.

So here I sit, trapped in my own silent movie.

I am a game of charades gone entirely wrong.

The Beringed Hand

In early March of last year I removed my wedding rings.

Today, 10 months later, I was finally able to put them back on.

Guess I'll have to stop hitting on the cute boys now that I look all married again!