- It has come to my attention that my mother is cleaning her house an entire week before the company comes. Who does that? Isn't that, like, putting the cart before the horse or something? Apparently when you don't have a surplus of undersized but over-zealous children running about the house will actually stay clean. Interesting. Very interesting. I am just hoping there are no stray waffle remnants lurking in the guest bedroom, which incidentally is Katie's room. And in that case our guest is more likely to find a pair of scissors under the bed, or the missing roll of Scotch tape hanging from the curtains.
- Chili: it has become apparent to me that I am something of a chili snob. In fact, I have come to believe that it just might fall into the same category as jewelry and artwork: don't just walk up to someone's house with a gift of your favorite framed Lisa Frank print and expect them to hang it on the wall. As in, chili/artwork/jewelry is personal. Yeah, so my analogy is breaking down faster than Donald Trump's hairpiece in the rain, but do you get my drift? Some people are soupy, watery chili people. Some people leave out the beans (blasphemy!) and others make a sweet chili (horrors!). The possibilities abound: pork, chicken or beef (ground or shredded), black beans, kidney or pinto and spicy/mild/bland? My mother in law used to make a pot of chili every now and then and she would put both pork and beef in it. At the time, Jeff did a valiant job trying to convince me that the white meat in it was not pork, but dog meat. The reason this whole earth-shattering (or mind numbing) topic has come up is because tonight the kids and I are tailgating with some friends in a church parking lot. Tailgating in a church parking lot? Is that legit? I can guarantee that over half our number will be comprised of those aged 10 and under, and that we will be visiting a live nativity scene afterward. But the tailgating involves chili, and it has caused me to spend approximately 6 seconds pondering what the chili will be like. And since I have nothing else to blog about, this is what you get. You're welcome.
- Last night Tyler told me he didn't want to be Tyler anymore. He wanted to change his name to Jesus. But that no one would let him, because you have to be really old to be named Jesus. I think I will call him Hey-soos from now on.
- Last but not least, my backyard intruder notification system just went off to warn me there was a feline interloper. Would you like to know which brand of intruder notification system (INS) I use? It is called a Rhode Island Red and it sounds like this: BAWK! BAWK! BAWWWWWWWK!
Friday, December 13, 2013
Random Thoughts: Otherwise Known As A Whole Lot Of Nothing
Posted by Jeff Groves at 10:53 AM