I Keep Wishing…
I’m making a crock pot of taco beef, but it’s not ground. It’s hard to say what it is, because we got it from Omaha steaks and R took it out of the box package it was in, which included it’s instructions as well as it’s identification.
Oh dear mystery meat, please taste good in my burrito.
What am I wishing for? Easy. An idea for a domain name. I want to blogblogblog until my fingers are a little tired and I want to do it on my own land. I love you Tumblr, but I don’t want you in my blog address!
I started reading about monster MILs because R’s mom has become beast-like at points. I want to grab my baby from her and tell her “OK, you’re done.” Yesterday we were walking along the Columbia River, per my initiating bringing her on a walk with Aubrey and I (much more peaceful alone).
OK, well toward the end my baby started acting up, because someone kept getting in her face. When I say act up, I just mean, she started fussing and wanting to be held, and guess who gave in? I mean, obviously I would take her out if she didn’t hush when we were strolling along after a moment, but she was very hands-on, mommy-like, just pushy and not my idea of a grandmother. I am not pushy, so when she does this, I kind of just stand there in gaping awe. Like, did that really just happen? Dude, get your fingers out of the way, I’m buckling the belt here, and seriously, it doesn’t take MORE THAN ONE PERSON TO BUCKLE A BABY. DEAR GOD.