I’m a great-aunt! My nephew (Chris, the 21 year-old son of my oldest brother, not Brian, who’s the 17 year-old son of my sister) and his girlfriend had a baby yesterday; his name is Jordan.
This makes my brother a grandfather, which makes me giggle because it seems so ludicrous. Isn’t he, like, 30? Aren’t I in my mid-20s? How can he possibly be old enough to have a grandchild?
I’ve actually only seen Chris a few times in his life – I first saw him when he was only about a month old (I was 19). Tracy and his then-wife came to Maine to visit for Christmas, and it was really the first time I’d spent any real time around a baby. I LOVED him, he was the cutest little thing, and when Tracy and his wife left, I tried to convince them to leave Chris behind, but they wouldn’t go for it.
So unreasonable.
(It’s probably no coincidence that I was pregnant with the spud less than a month later.)
A few years later, when Chris was around 2, he and his mother came to stay with my parents while Tracy was… Well, I don’t remember where he was. In officer’s school or something? Something military-related, I can tell you that. He was, well, he was two years old: sweet and rambunctious and always saying stuff that made us laugh.
After that, I didn’t see him again until a few years ago (four years ago, perhaps?), and he’d turned into a super-quiet (seriously, I don’t think I heard him say more than three words), observant teenager. You think they grow fast when they’re your own, but let me tell you – when you don’t see them very much, they seem to grow in an instant.
Now he’s a father. How amazing is that?
(Shaddup. I love the hell out of that commercial.)
Those of you who asked for a picture of Fred’s bald head are going to be left wanting, I’m afraid. Fred would no sooner let me take a picture of him when he thinks he looks horrible than Mister Boogers would spread sunshine and happiness wherever he glared.
Just imagine a great big bald head with Fred’s face on it, and you’ll get the picture.
It’s good to know that I’m not alone in my hatred of having the cashier comment when you’re buying something. Do you ever notice that they don’t comment on the salad or carrots you’re buying, but the stuff that’s not good for you? Fred says it always makes him want to bellow “ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?!”
Some of the comments that made me laugh:
I hate it when checkers comment on what I’m buying, except the time we bought bread and ice cream and he asked if we were making ice cream sandwiches.
I just don’t get the lack of filter on these kid’s mouths. Biting your tongue is or WAS a big part of working with the public. Last year I was on a line minding my own business when a cashier pulled me over to open a new line. He must have acted without authority because the front end person came over to tell him to shut down. He turned to me and started to tell me how lucky I was he was helping me. I was frigging PISSED and I started to rip into him “YOU called ME over here-I was on line minding my own business!” I must have looked all menapausal scary because he apologized immediately. But really I’m going to sound old but did you EVER address an adult the way they talk to us? A good slap might teach them something.
My husband eats a bag of chips in one sitting so I have to buy lots if I expect to get any over the next 2 weeks or so. Also I just happened to be doing a very big grocery shop and my cupboards were bare. The cashier, not a teen, says “oh you must have a teenager at home.” I’m like “No. Just a big husband.” Then instead of shutting her trap right then she says “Wow, is this food for a whole month!?” To which I reply seethingly “I don’t really know. I shop sporadically.” What I really wanted to say was “No. My husband and I are a couple of fat lazy couch potatos! Now shut your pie hole and finish ringing me up!” This is why I usually use the self check-out.
Precisely why, no matter how many groceries I have, I always use the self check-out. Deep down, I’d love to have the guts to say ‘Mind your own f**king business!’
As for chatty cashiers…after placing an order at Taco Bell for what must have seemed like an ungodly amount of food for two people (my husband and me), the cashier said, “Whooo!! Is that to go??” Um, no. That’s for here. As in, the two fat-ass pigs in front of you are going to eat it ALL, bitch!”
Fred and I were talking about it last night, and of course he has this need to be REASONABLE (god I hate that!) and he said “Well, you know, the cashiers are just trying to make conversation…” and I suppose I get that, but how about a comment about the weather instead? I don’t need a complete stranger commenting on the food I’m buying.
Next time I go in to the grocery store, I’m going to buy a container of laxative suppositories (the BIG one), lube, the big pack of toilet paper and a big-ass bag of candy, and then I’m going to DARE the cashier to say something.
Thanks for the bread comments and suggestions, as well. The recipe I attempted using was this one – and let me stress that I’m sure it was user error on my part (since I’ve never made a loaf of bread by hand in my LIFE) that was the problem, not the recipe.
I used all-purpose flour, since that’s what the recipe called for, but I do keep bread flour on hand, so maybe I should try that?
Actually what I’m probably going to try next is the Amish white bread Aimee linked to.
I did try using the mixer, but when I kept adding flour and it kept being way too sticky, I gave up. I think if I had it to do over again, I would have seen if it would rise, and then I’d have punched it down and tossed it in the oven to see what happened. Even if it came out a big heavy doughy lump of crap, I could have fed it to the pigs and chickens – tossing the dough in the trash was such a waste.
I should really be chronicling this whole breadmaking thing in pictures, shouldn’t I? Bitchypoo’s Adventures in Breadmaking!
I’m sure it’d be just as exciting as it sounds.
Newt McNewtles wishes you all a Happy St. Patrick’s Day! (“She’s not going to make corned beef, is she? I hate that stuff. It’s gross. EWWWW.”)
Previously
2008: Guess who flew to Pennsylvania so she could eat cupcakes with Nance and Rick, snuggle the cutest dog on Earth, and reunite with Maddy?
2007: No entry.
2006: everyone’s Irish today, right?
2005: Guess it must run in the family.
2004: The cats are on my fucking NERVES.
2003: You KNOW you’re fascinated!
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: The Big Butt Fairy visits us every year though. Just like clockwork.