On losing

*ahem* sorry, where were we? Oh, right, I was going to post daily throughout November and score that righteous turkey portrait. Until I passed out from stress got that wicked head injury forgot. Whatever, I have a lot of shit going on, dude, I can't be here for you every day.

Ooh, except now I'm going to participate in Holidailies 2006, so I guess I will be here for you. Every day. Unless I forget.

So. What's happened Chez Smack since last we met? Dude stands on his own for a few wobbly seconds now and again. Perp continues her verbal diarrhea and it is très amusant. Today she was tossing a huge rubber ball up the stairs, then letting it smack her in the forehead (where's that study about soccer players who do a lot of headers having more brain injuries than those who don't?); every time it bounced back down she's let out this hysterical cackle then shout, "OH MY GOD!" and toss the ball back up the stairs.

This afternoon she was playing play doh (we don't need no steenking articles) and kept saying, "I hate this show." I so don't say that.

While at the IL's place, she told FIL, "It's a hard life," which I totally do say. A lot. Because I have a toddler in the house. Hear me? Hollah.

Dude has started clapping, and I've already trained him (like a seal! but without the ball!) to do so when I yell, "Yaaaaaaay!" V cute, if you ask me, or even if you don't but you totally would because it's the polite thing to do, ask about someone's kids.

I've decided that on days that I can't think of one more fucking thing to say, I'll post a recipe. So next time I draw a blank, it's Fannie Farmer's molasses cookies, and they will kick the snot out of anyone else's molasses cookies, that's all I know. I love molasses. Sometimes I'll just eat a spoonful of it. Lots of iron, people, don't make that face.