Saturday, December 8, 2007

Season's Eatings

It's a dreary day at the Mansion. My kind of weather. I will admit that it makes me a bit drowsy. So far, the only thing I've accomplished today is baking the season's first batch of Chex mix. Mine is famous, you know. Hillbilly Mom's Chex mix is clamored for throughout the land. This batch is earmarked for my sweatshop laborers. I hope none of them have a peanut allergy. If I remember correctly, one is diabetic. Perhaps I should check with the school nurse before I kill somebody.

We need to get our live Christmas tree this weekend, but I'm thinking it will be put on the back burner until next weekend. I need to watch my mouth. Oh, if only I had a hundred dollars for every time someone has told me that! But in this case, I need to watch my fingertips. I wouldn't want anybody to try this at home. We don't actually put our Christmas tree on the back burner. It's too tall. And then there's that flammability issue. Also, I doubt my free labor would want the famous hillbilly Chex mix if they read that it was earmarked. Who knows what mental image that would create.

HH has taken the #1 son to the city with two of his friends for a birthday bash. His birthday is not until Wednesday, but this was the least busy weekend for the festivities. They are at some gaming place at a mall, planning to ride go-karts, climb a fake rock wall, and shoot each other with lasers. It was HH's idea. Leave it to HH to take kids to a mall two weekends before Christmas. HH did not want to host another sleepover. Apparently, he needs his beauty rest.

I think I hear the laundry calling me. That makes me really, really tired. Instead, I think I will pay the taxes, or make the grocery list. I have a severe case of selective listening. HH diagnosed it.


DPA said...

I have Selective Listening Syndrome as well, says Dr. Tim. Must've caught it from him.

Good luck with the laundry. I have no problem washing it-- it's the folding that I avoid. The bed is under this pile somewhere...

Hillbilly Mom said...

I, too, abhor the folding. At least I can fit it all into a basket right now. That means I am caught up.

Hillbilly Mom said...

And still ending sentences with prepositions.