Randomocity

I'm starting a new tradition tonight: Random Thought Thursday. If this is really some organized networking kind of blog thingy, I apologize. I must have stored it deep in my subconscious to plagiarize at later date. And the way things go at the Mansion, this may be the first and last time it appears. But for now, I have license to skip from topic to topic. Just try and stop me, by cracky!

I looked in Mabel's window yesterday and saw a cow. Really. Not so much a cow as the back side of a flat wooden cow thingy propped up in Mabel's classroom window. I suppose Mabel knows it is there. And that it is not a flattering object to have leaning around the window to the outside world. Because you just know when somebody asks where Mabel's room is, they are told, "Look for the room with the cow in it."

I am going to send HH away for training in How To Catch More Flies With Vinegar. It's not that we need any more flies for my boy to murder for pay, or the fact that at times we have a surplus of vinegar that HH plans some day to clean the jets of the big triangle bathtub with. Or the breaking news that all the camps for Ending Sentences With Prepositions are full. No. HH can not change his stripes. He is overly gruff and not at all endearing, and nobody wants to do his bidding, even if it's a reasonable request. He needs to channel his gruffness to win friends and influence people. For example, tonight the white hateful cat so tragically named 'Snuggles' slunk into the kitchen when HH opened the door. He bellowed, "Snuggles! Get over here! Get out of the kitchen, you darn cat!" Umm...yeah. This is the cat who used to snarl at him as a kitten. I'm so sure that's the approach to getting her out of the kitchen. I called for reinforcements. The #2 son came galloping into the room, rounded the counter, accosted the trespassing feline, and shouted, "Snuggles!" That darn cat allowed that boy to pick her up like a limp noodle and deposit her on the porch. All of our animals loathe this boy. I believe it has something to do with putting a kitten in the middle of the water pan. Yet Snuggles detests HH even more. Because he doesn't have the vinegar thingy down pat, I suppose.

One of my co-workers used to be a jockey in Spain. Who knew?

My boys insist on popping two bags of popcorn so they can each eat half a bag and throw the rest away. Because that's how they roll.

When The Brady Bunch Movie is on at the same time as Tender Mercies, I have to switch back and forth so I won't miss one of them.

The cafeteria has a new side dish that appears to be Tater Tot Clusters.

If your husband does not keep you updated on his insurance changes, you will get a notice that none of the $1395 expenses you and your two sons have incurred since Aug. 6 are covered.

And your husband will blame YOU for not having the proper card, even though only one was sent, and he is the only one who has been to the dentist in three years (not that you're proud of that fact), and in your checkbook rolodex of all insurance cards ever issued, there is only the ONE card that was ever given to you for dental needs.

Thank the Gummi Mary that dentists' office clerks know how to dial the phone.

Teeth. They're highly overrated.

Especially the fake one you get to cover that metal post while your crown is being created, that falls out the next day just because you thought, "Hey! New tooth. Now's the time to enjoy some Sugar Babies!"

A dog with a runny eye should not be petted.

A deer that stands in the road, haughtily giving you the stink-eye, should not be run over.

A custodian's tale that a deer ran into the Chrysler plant and was captured and a local employee slit its throat and then grilled it for lunch because the game warden said they could have it may or may not be true.

If you have parking lot duty behind the school, it's probably a good idea to tell your child, because when he can't find you after he gets off the bus, he will think you left him, and go outside to the other parking lot to see if your LSUV is still there, and then he will drown his sorrows by running up and down the OH SO LONG hall with a pack of faculty offspring until you catch him.

If you have a job that does not need detailed lesson plans, you will have your plan books for the past 7 years stacked up in your cabinet. But if you need detailed lesson plans, you will lose your plan book on the night of Open House, and spend 8 days and counting looking for it, all the while scribbling them in a ten-cent 70-page wide-ruled blue spiral notebook procured from The Devil's Playground.

The low-flush toilet requires four flushings to get rid of a few squares of toilet paper.

You can make a delicious honey-mustard sauce with just honey, mustard, and mayonnaise.

Kids these days expect to be entertained. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom doesn't rap. Or cage fight.

Mabel nearly has a cow when an HM blog post meets neither her length nor interest-level requirements.

If Mrs. HM was a cage-fighter, it would be ONNNNN, Mabel!

The random quota has now been attained.