no thanks on the couch vacuuming.

it's hard work being cute, you know.


I don't know what it is about me, but I must have a certain [scary] solicitor magnet buried deep within my soul. And these creeps salespeople come only at times when no one else is home with me.

I just ushered out a stuttering, no-bra-wearing, rotten-toothed lady who was referencing supposed neighbors that I should be familiar with, claiming that they had taken the offer and just loved it. Sorry, but I do not know a lady named Alice down our street. She wanted to come in and deep clean my carpets. When I told her that we didn't have any carpet, she insisted on doing that deep cleaning on our furniture. This was all while I was trying to calm the dogs down, relax Ruby who was shaking at the dogs' incessant barking, and explain to this woman that this was not a good time. What would any good salesperson do at this point? Of course, they would take on the dog's persona and try talking through the dog in order to get me to buy some vacuum. As I told her that her time would be better spent elsewhere, she told me that she needed to get back home and proceeds to explain her place of residence (a town not far from here that we visit very reguarly), as if I quite possibly had never heard of it before. I practically shoved her out the door, because she couldn't quite figure out the word no, a seemingly common hard-to-understand concept for all salespeople. I became worried when she started inching closer to my living room and over the threshold, I had visions of her stealing anything she could grab. So I did what any rational person would do and tighted my grip on Ruby while continuing to murmur "no thanks." Don't tell me I'm the only one who has such visions-I can't be that crazy.

Had she not seen me in the window before she arrived at my door, I would have beelined upstairs until she was all the way down the street. Given that she saw me and waved, I had no way out. I'm a little afraid of saying no to people like this for the mere fact that they will do something hateful to my house or car. Luckily for me, she lives in Timbuktu a whole hour and a half from here.

And of course Jimmy would be gone. Solid additional evidence that I will not be staying home alone this coming week when Jimmy is gone. As if the last time wasn't a vivid enough illustration that I don't do well on my own.

I came up with my own biscotti conconction today and it turned out quite well. You know, if I do say so myself. Orange, cherries, walnuts-what more could a girl ask for with her morning cup of joe (did I really just say that?)?

Can someone please enlighten me-how is my baby almost seven months old?! She's going to be one in a matter of no time, and then five (and off to school in which place, she'll probably disown her mother at the sight of her sobbing), and then sixteen, and then... Ahh! Before I was a mother, I always inwardly rolled my eyes at the constant stream of comments regarding how quickly children grow. Blah blah blah, did you want them to stay small forever?! But, being that motherhood brings you into this all-inclusive VIP group, I soon figured out the big fuss with this phenomenon...and I can hardly accept it. Makes me think we need another one...or four. I'm kidding. Sorta

this just in: I called Jimmy to ask when he would be home, because I'm a paranoid nutcase about those solicitors now, and apparently that was the second time they hit up our house. The same lady (Jimmy referred to her as wearing pink and missing teeth, ha!) hit him up when he was doing yardwork earlier. No really doesn't mean anything to them, does it!?