The cheewawas enjoyed a little wardrobe change today.
Because what you were really wanting/needing/yearning for was another photo of my ridiculously small dogs dressed up.
The one in the baseball jersey has begun to break dance like the one in the hoodie.
Joe: “It’s like we’re living in one of those really bad horror movies where the babysitter moves in and tries to become the mother.”
Come to think of it, this is not our first life-becomes-art experience. Our attempt to secure takeout Chinese food for Christmas Eve dinner was thwarted to the most bizarro degree (after a 45-minute wait the manager emerged from the kitchen, told us they were too backed up, gave us free Sprites, and refunded our money).
Heh. I said backed up.
Yep, the Beavis and Butthead references are alive and well here in our house.
So we took the only dining option that Columbus, Ohio offers at 10 pm on Christmas Eve: Speedway. (I’m not kidding here–even the 24-hour Meijer store was locked up tight.) Microwave burritos and frozen pizza, all around. Viva la fiesta.
Nastja (tucking into a bag of chips): “It’s just like those movies where the parents screw up and everyone has to eat gas station food on Christmas.”
She was right.
Better yet? We ate it again the next night.
Fortunately, teenagers and wannabe teens really never tire of gas station food.
Fast forward to present: I blew through three (3) boxes of funfetti this weekend on account of Cake Mix Cookie Bars. You’d think I’d have taken a photo before they became invisible. Honestly. I’m a work in progress.
So there we have it. Nutrition is at an all-time high and everyone has their clothes on most of the time. Come on over and hang with us.
Yeah. Conversational content? Freakishly intellectual. Come on over. You’ll see.