Monday, November 23, 2009


I bet you thought I forgot about this little blog. No updates, no pictures, no clever ideas. The truth is, I forgot my password.

And the dog ate my camera.

And I was whisked away on a romantic vacation to Baja by Danish Cowboy.

Actually, life happened.

Here's how it all went down: November started off with a trip to Pennsylvania with me flying solo with the kids. I PROMISED Danish Cowboy I wouldn't tell my bloggies like you that I was going there because he was a bit worried about weirdos. And the whole week prior to my departure was spent fretting over whether I could actually travel with two small kids by myself without landing in a mental institution.

But we went, the kids were fantastic (they are my kids, after all) and we safely returned. I even managed to squeeze two Costco trips into the deal. And some serious outlet shopping. And Mom and Dad and Sister: I snuck to Isaac's. On Sunday. After I saw my friend. And I didn't tell you about it and the guilt is lingering. But I did eat two helpings of pickle plates. And then when we were ordering takeout on Monday, I almost said "I'd like to have a Scarlet Ibis, but I had that yesterday." It was on the tip of my tongue and thank goodness I didn't let that little thought slip out. Sorry. Don't be mad. I had to do it.

Those events transpired on and before November 10. Then Danish Cowboy decided to get ill.

And he landed in a hospital for two days. He is feeling much better now and that's all I'm going to say about that.

Except there was this doctor there who said he was from New York. We are fairly confident that he had created some credentials for himself and was MASQUERADING as an MD. He also appeared to have a toupe on that at one time may have matched his gray hair, but has since aged and now has a tinge of yellow while his actual hair on the bottom was still quite brilliantly gray. You can't help but notice these things when you are isolated in a hospital room.

And then the best part about our weekend hospital visit: Danish Cowboy promised to get us a housekeeper while he was healing up because he couldn't possibly assist me with household duties at this time. I tried hard not to laugh at a sick man. I tried really, really hard not to make a snarky comment at a sick man, but I didn't try hard enough. Sorry Danish Cowboy.

Actually, the best part was that I got one of those new plastic one quart water glasses from the hospital. My glass from two years ago was starting to show signs of wear, not unlike that doctor's toupe

We love you Danish Cowboy! And we're glad you're feeling better!

This has been a riveting post. I am aware of that. Tomorrow: a close examination of the cultural dichotomy that exists between East Coast private schools and Northwest public schools. You had best tune in for this. I think you'll enjoy how I use the scientific method to come to some eye-opening conclusions.


  1. So I'm not the only one still using my hospital cup two years later!?

    Sorry to hear about Danish Cowboy's most recent adventure...but glad he's on the mend and busy housecleaning once again!

  2. Be weary of the scientific method, oh Penner of Prairie Potholes! Here's my story...
    Three nights ago I was at a dinner party and the guests were drinking gin and soda. They quickly became intoxicated. Two nights ago I was at a local restaraunt and noticed a table of men drinking scotch and soda, who also became intoxicated. I decided to experiment: I had a cookout yesterday and served absolut citron and soda. Guess what? My guests became intoxicated.
    Clearly they were all becoming drunk from the same thing...
    As it seems this winter may be a long one here in the mountains of California, I traveled to town this morning to purchase some essentials to get me through the long, cold days. Guitar strings and nutella were (of course)among the usual neccessities.
    Then, I started thinking. At my recent social getherings the folks who were intoxicated seemed to have more fun and the time passed quickly for them. I decided to make one additional purchase; a crate of soda water. Not being one for foofy flavoring, I left the mixers at the store.
    Imagine my dismay when I drank the first bottle of soda water and felt no different! Perhaps a crate of this beverage wasn't enough. To make sure, I drank another bottle, but still no drunken splendor. Quickly, I realized my mistake... all of my friends were drinking the soda water at night!
    Of course, as you remember from several paragraphs ago, I am trying to pass the time during the cold winter days, not nights. So in the end, I will revert to my trusty Bible with all it's answers to get me through. I'm done with the scientific method and thinking for myself.

  3. I don't think the bible would approve of all that soda water.