Morning folks. Made it through the night without any wet beds. One small step for HRH, one giant sigh of relief for me!
{{{Herbs}}} I hope you can find a solution for your leave woes.
{{{Soapy}}} I feel your pain. HRH is only (not quite) 3 and she already knows how to push my buttons in the most unbelievable way.
Off to make a mashed potato, bacon, onion and cheese frittata for breakfast!
Says you. My wife has the combination to my powder locker and she knows how to use it! That music wouldn’t be playing but I’m betting it would be Final Jeopardy! 
Soapy - don’t sweat it too much. My Dad had a tough job and screwy shifts and all. One day I was being myself - in other words a ton to handle at best - and he hit me once with a yardstick. One of three times in my life he needed to physically punish me for something. The other two I know what I did wrong; this time it was just him flipping a bit and he caught me one good one in passing across the butt. Snapped it clean in half.
It actually became a joke between us. I would do something wrong, something I would need some kind of punishment about, and I would hang my head and look all sorry and stuff and say “You aren’t going to break anything over me this time, are you?” and sort of grin. My way of saying that any grounding or whatever I needed was OK with me. But me and Dad had a lot of love for each other and we knew it so that usually made things get better.
Over the years, I sort of “grew” the yardstick into a 2x4, a piece of rebar, a left over section of bridge span. And he grew it to my hips being so bony, my head so thick. At one point he had the neighbors borrowing a backhoe and breaking the bucket over me trying to get something through to my brain. 
It became our private joke later in life once I hit my late 20s and realized just how smart my Dad had become on 28 years or so.
Guess I’m saying I’m betting that you show him enough love that even if he remembers this in the future it will be more with a giggle than anything else. At least my prayers your way hope so.
Good Mornin’ Y’all! Up and caffienatin’ YAWN It looks like it will be a rainy day in Jawja. This means it’s Spring.
StickyBuns are you forkin’ around again! 
Yay for a wetless night Dotty! Here’s to many, many more.
Rosie OYKW is not a child. He’s a spoiled brat.
MOOOOOOM I am not a geezer! I’m an Old Fart. Old Farts never die. They just hang around and smell bad.
Tonight we’re having Evensong (or is that Even Song, I can never remember) tonight at church. It’s the Episcopal Evening Prayer service with lots of choral music. I’ve heard the choir has some really nice music planned, so it should be good. Plus I get to polish my halo some more bein’ as this will mean I will have been to church three, count 'em three, times this week!
OK, rumbly tummy demands to be fed.
Happy Firday Y’all!
Yay for a nice, non-traumatic weekend morning, Dotty.
Soapy, don’t feel bad. As long as you made up afterwards, you’re fine.
Thinking unsticky thoughts for the baby, LiLi.
I’m getting up to make the starter for that bread right now, taxi. We’ll see how it works out…
Lots more to say, but I’ve forgotten exactly what… More tonight.
GT
Wheee! It’s finally FIRDAY!!
Thanks for the suggestions, fellow mumpers - I have thought about applying for leave donation, it’s definitely a possibility. Me being in the negative counts for one qualification; I’d just have to get my doctor to list all the health problems. Heh. However, I am now going to try to earn a bit of credit time so that I can use that when I have to take off. And just this morning, for instance, I was the first person to get into the office - an unusual occurance, let me tell ya. 
So little by little I’ll build up the credit time.
C’mon out, tnc2.0. All your aunties and uncle-ies want to meet you.
Well, happily no yard sticks were broken! Just yelling.
I grew up in a house where my parents would explode and rage (they both have PTSD in a big way) and never apologize. I was determined to keep that in check with my kids, but when it leaks out it brings me back to unhappy places. But I apologize.
As I tell me kids- I’m doing better than my parents and you will do better than me.
Up, caffeinated, off to work.
What’s for breakfast? I’m hungry!!!
Uh, food?
Ultra-Mega blurfs
My alarm clock was set for 0445, as usual. I awoke at 0530, the clock was set to ring, and I never heard it. I don’t know if I was in that deep of a coma, or the alarm failed to trigger. :smack: :mad: :smack: :mad: :rolleyes:
Blurf. Any sign of baby yet?
It’s raining right now. And according to the weather channel, it’s going to keep on raining… all bloody weekend long. And part of next week. Grrrrr.
Nice fork art, Pie.
Blurfity blurf. I’m awake and caffienating. I’ve been awake for awhile, but I was trying to sleep in. It didn’t work.
It’s rainy and blustery here.
I know it’s a pain getting all that documentation from your doc, **tarra, **but do it. Stress just adds to health care problems and you don’t need that.
I don’t have much of anything planned for today. I may run a couple of errands, but I think that’s about it.
Hugs and smooches to all.
No baby. Muppet, explain to me that I don’t need my MiL to take me to Poutini’s for lunch. I want poutine. I just find Queen and Dovercourt a little too far to justify, and I can’t think of anything else I want to do around that area.
As the child of a mother who apologized to me once in my life and a father who rarely did, I thank you. Did your parents end up apologizing once you were grown up? My mother did when her BF threatened with not talking with her any more if she didn’t, but she still hasn’t understood why (or why she’s supposed to thank us when we do something for her, another change brought by the same conversation).
tnc 2.0! COME OUT! (just not this minute, take a reasonable time, but please do it on your own). Hey, if he’s born tomorrow we’ll share a burfday
Present. Home from work. Semi awake. I woke up at 2AM - I think it was the sound of the rain on the new solar tube dome. And I couldn’t fall back to sleep. Around 3, I decided to watch TV, hoping that would make me drowsy. It didn’t. I’m exhausted.
So I left the office about 1030, ran some errands, met my sweetie for lunch, then came home. Here I am. Pooped. It’s been drizzly/rainy all morning, and the worst of it is supposed to hit overnight and tomorrow. Guess we’ll find out if the new roof leaks!
I’m gonna read my comics, then assume the knit position. Or nap. Or both.
TGIF!!
Since when does poutine need justification? It is an end unto itself, not to mention the most delicious food on earth.
Perhaps we can convince her that poutine is a well-known folk remedy for bringing on labour in Quebec? I think that ought to do it.
I’m debating trying it this weekend. I definitely don’t need a whole loaf of white bread, but it sure sounds like fun to try! And to eat if it turns out even halfway decent!
ETA: Do you know how to pronounce “biga” from that recipe? I don’t want to embarrass myself by saying it to someone IRL and pronouncing it all wrong.
Since you know **LiLi **IRL, shouldn’t you be the one who tells us when the baby comes?
Also, WHY did you give me that granola recipe? I know I make it so I control the ingredients but I swear someone’s slipping crack into it when I’m not looking. I’ve made 3 batches already and will have to make more tonight or tomorrow. That stuff is seriously addictive.
I’m so glad I wiki’d poutine - because the name alone brings to mind an unpleasant bodily function
blurf.
I’m doing better today than yesterday.