I had an annoying bout of lactose intolerance this morning, and was late to work.
I ate a big bowl of cereal for breakfast, and then as I was headed upstairs I spotted a Coco mess on the floor and cleaned it up. Then I got woozy and nauseated. I was actually groaning as I went up the stairs, and Michael was looking worried. I got him to school, and went back home for a bit.
The lactose intolerance has only happened recently. I used to be able to eat whatever I wanted, no problemo. Not any more. I am going to have to remember to take Lactaid, or just skip dairy. No, I can’t skip dairy. I love cheese and sour cream and ice cream and all those rich dairy desserts waaaaay too much. That’s why God made Lactaid.
This morning at breakfast, Alesia had left the table, and we were watching NBC’s story about how large company CEO’s made less money in 2008, but not a lot less. They still made a million or two last year. Michael watched that thoughtfully. When the story was done, I muted it and looked at him. “You know how they got to be CEO’s? They went to college. Before that, you know what they had to do?”
He didn’t answer.
Mother interrupted. “Those guys did their homework in the 5th grade!”
I was a little annoyed at Mother for stealing my thunder, but I let it ride. Great minds think alike.
“They did their homework in 5th grade, 6th grade, through high school, and college. Homework means a good education, and a good education is important to being successful in life.”
He just looked at me. I hope he was thinking about our house rule, if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.
"If you want a CORVETTE, you need to do your homework so you can get a good job one day!Those things cost a LOT of money!" I added.
He gave that some thought.
I didn’t tell him a lot of people despise CEO’s and CFO’s, nor did I tell him the Bill Gates dropped out of college. There are always annoying details which aren’t important when I’m on my soapbox.
I have noticed that when I put in a photo of a hunky man like Hugh Jackman, I get more hits on the Crab Chronicles. I want the hits to keep on coming. So I am going to try and include a photo of a hunky guy at least once a week, and see what happens.
Hugh Jackman is a great guy, in my book. He’s been married for 15 years to the same woman, and he has two biracial adopted children. If he would just shave his face clean more often, he would be incredibly hot.
Jude Law is another actor I have always found incredibly sexy. He apparently has the morals of a goat, but running off with the nanny didn’t seem to hurt his career. His photos are below. In photo #1 you see the kissable cutie pie. In shot #2, you see the fashion disaster. Jude, babe, who dresses you?! Is it an actor thing, a British thing, or just some sort of fashion dyslexia? Enquiring minds need to know.
Have you ever been in a movie with someone who talks back to the screen? “Go on, kiss her!” / “Look out, he’s got a gun!” / “That baby is not yours, idiot!” My daughter is a movie commenter. Only at home, though. I was so annoyed with her last night.
“Alesia, while you are turned around, telling me how beautiful Alicia Keyes is, I am missing big chunks of movie dialogue!” I rebuked her. “Run it back!”
“Gosh, Mom, why are you fussing? I always talk back to the movie,” she protested.
“Yes, but you need to learn to not comment OUT LOUD,” I told her.
“But I can’t help it. It’s so exciting!” she argued, giggling.
I wish I had $1 for every time she has yelled at the TV “Kiss her! Why don’t you KISS!!??”
When she says that, I like to say “Look at ‘em swappin’ spit! [Or] Swappin’ spit is not all that interesting. [Or] Yuck, think of the germs they get swappin’ spit like that! Eeeuw!”
My father used to say things about “swappin’ spit” to me. I like to think one day Alesia will make similarly hormone-deflating comments to her overly excitable 17 year old daughter…
For now, she is not amused. At all.
