New Thing + Boobies

Loyal readers know that I try to learn one New Thing each year.

I've realized that introducing a cello into this house would be about a useful and necessary as getting a pet chimp. Although the monkey butler services would be AWESOME, I could do without the tire swing and the airborne shit (I get enough of both as it is). Likewise, a loud, unwieldy instrument would be both fascinating to the boys (Owen would put toys in it, Joel would chew on it), and neglected by me. So cello: out.

Cooking lessons were another idea. After the disaster of my oil-soaked eggplant parmigiana, I've returned to my original repertoire of: sloppy joes, grilled chicken, Trader Joes salmon, stir-fry, turkey burgers, homemade pizza and meatloaf. That's pretty much what we eat, every meal, every week. Cooking lessons would hopefully jump-start my mind to new ideas, but if I was to take a cooking lesson, I would need to first find the energy to find the class, and then the energy to get the boys watched while I attend the class, and then the ability to transfer what I learned to my own kitchen....so yeah, I'm all talk, no action. Verdict: no cooking lessons.

So, my new New Thing: I'm going to buy flowers and put them into the ground and watch them grow. I'm not going to landscape or garden, because that would be too much work and another check on my "Not Done" list. But putting flowers into the ground? That I can do.

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In other news (Male readers, you've been warned)...Operation Weaning continues.

I woke up this morning and realized that I had developed breast-shaped conjoined twins over the course of the night. My boobs were so big and hard that they looked like...
*Pamela Anderson on a bad day.
*Me on the best day of my life (although my understanding is that people that like breasts prefer them to be soft mounds, not rock-hard boulders).

No fun, this weaning stuff. I guess a lot of people don't have this problem because they let the milk dry up over time. I, of course, prefer to do things the quick way and the hard way. Thus, my boobs look like a prop from "RuPaul's Drag Race."

I've been trying to give myself a break from the constant guilt of not making it to the year by drinking as many heavily caffeinated beverages as possible. By doing this, I'm too hopped up to hold a toothbrush, let alone beat myself over the head.

Speaking of beating myself over the head, tomorrow we're driving to scenic Waldorf to order Joel's glasses frames. Pictures forthcoming.