Guinea Pigs

So, Little Girl has been lobbying for her own pet for some time.

We still have the cat; he’s almost ten years old now. I have actually been blogging long enough (?!) that his origin story is in my archives, if you’re interested.

I’ve been strongly resisting any new pets on the grounds that we already have a cat; however, the lack of precedent for this logic was recently pointed out to me.

  • Me: You don’t need your own pet.
  • Little Girl: You let ET have her own pet.
  • Me: We already have a cat.
  • Little Girl: ET had a hamster. AND a tree frog.
  • Me: (floundering) But….

Yeah, I lost that one pretty quickly. I hadn’t taken a hard enough line with previous kids, and now history was against me. The argument that I was younger and stupider back then (my only defense!) wouldn’t really fly either.

(And she didn’t even KNOW about how I let her big sisters have a lizard, some fish, and mice at various times in the past. See “The Pet Wars” in my archives for more there. Yeah. I was MUCH stupider then.)

So…. I fell back on the Use-Your-Own-Money-And-That-Thing-Had-Better-Not-Bug-Me defense. It’s all I could do. I told her that if she could buy the pet in question AND all its supplies AND keep it in her room AND keep it clean and fed herself, THEN she could have her own pet.

Long story short…. we have a pair of guinea pigs now.

The good news is, they’re really cute!

The bad news is, her room smells like a livestock barn, and I keep having to buy food for these rodents.

Oh well.

The Book Fair at School

The twins’ school is having a book fair.

They are in middle school now, so I wondered if the book fair might be different, but it’s pretty much the same as it was in elementary school:

Ostensibly it’s to sell books and promote learning, but the real goal from the kid’s perspective is buying random junk that promotes clutter.

(I’ve written in the past about how much my kids love random junk; see that post here if you’re interested.)

They simply CANNOT go to the book fair without buying some of the non-book items such as odd bendy pencils, erasers shaped like weird things, or bookmarks with strange shiny patches on them.

I’ll admit that these things are cool, and I do remember being a kid (many MANY years ago) well enough to know the draw of interesting small objects to children.

Little Boy brought home one of those pens that writes in a lot of different colors. He was simply THRILLED about the pen.

He wanted to know if they had pens like that when I was a kid. I admitted to coveting one of those four-color pens kids had when I was in elementary school.

Remember those? Only cool kids had them.

Well, his pen is WAY cooler! He left it out for his siblings to view, but carefully put a note next to it to make sure no one tried to steal it.

This pen is definitely for cool kids!

What do my ancestors have to say?

I’ve seen this meme recently on facebook about cooking:

I don’t know about you, but my ancestors are quite silent about my cooking. I have never thought they took much of an interest in me in my kitchen.

Until I tried to throw away an empty Cool Whip container…..

Then I heard a decided opinion from the ancestors.

“Don’t throw that away! Wash it and use it for leftovers!”

So… I guess I’m Grandma now….

So, now I’m a mother-in-law?

My oldest daughter ET got married.

I know; I’m nowhere NEAR old enough for this.

And how is it that SHE is old enough? When I started this blog she was thirteen, so I gave her the name ET for Evil Teenager. Now she’s 23 (!) and no longer a teenager at all. (But still evil? Yes, if you ask her siblings.)

Anyways, last weekend the whole family went to a nature park in rural Alabama and watched her get married.

Everything went pretty well, I think. The weather was nice, but we were holding the ceremony inside a building anyways. Park or no park, I think we’d have to be completely crazy to hold an outdoor wedding in December.

And ET had plenty of built-in bridesmaids, since she has so many sisters.

I don’t have anything funny to say about the wedding, which is definitely a good thing. Nobody wants their daughter’s wedding to be funny. Not even me.

So instead, here’s a few of my favorite past stories about ET for your entertainment:

Middle School: The Drama Continues

A little while back I wrote about a secret admirer note that Little Boy received in his locker. (It was addressed some guy called Hugh.)

To read that story click here: http://christinakosatka.com/?p=1968

Well, today he found another note for the same kid!! And this note is in different handwriting, so it’s not from the same girl.

I had this translated for me, by the way, so here is the text:

“Hi, I kind of like you. (Blushing smiley-face) Note: I know you have a girlfriend; people told me. (Crying tears emoji). To: Hugh From: ?”

OK, so we have: Secret Admirer #1 from before, Secret Admirer #2 here, AND a Girlfriend?!?!

Well, well, well, Mr. Hugh! I think I need to get a look at this little lady-killer.

I didn’t wish for this

Wish.com likes to decorate my facebook wall with pictures of items they think I might want to order. Many, many, MANY pictures.

Now. to be fair, this is actually a great way to get money out of me, because I DO tend to order stuff from ads I while scrolling through facebook.

I bought a fake hair braid guaranteed to make me pretty! (I blogged about it last year.)

I bought those special sneaker laces from an ad that promised my kids would never have to tie their shoes again! (My kids broke them in less than a week.)

I bought a snazzy gift-wrap paper cutting tool that said it would both organize my Christmas paper and streamline the wrapping process! (It didn’t fit any of my actual rolls of paper.)

None of these things quite worked out as advertised, as you can see, but I remain a sucker. Hope springs eternal, after all. I read the ads and think to myself, Maybe THIS particular plastic item shipped from a sweatshop in Asia really WILL make me prettier/ happier/more organized. Maybe I really SHOULD buy the pee-proof underwear they keep showing me, and reminding me that it’s great for women of my age.

Yeah, maybe not.

But some of the stuff wish.com advertises really has me baffled. I can’t imagine why anyone would order these things.

Example #1:

In what universe would anyone wear this? Even young Julia Roberts in full Pretty Woman gear wore the same trashy stockings on BOTH LEGS.

Example #2:

What on EARTH could these be for? I don’t think they would fit in my actual mouth and operate as tooth substitutes. And even if they could, why would I need FOUR SETS AT A TIME? This baffles me.

And, finally… #3:

What IS this?!?! What is it FOR? I can’t even.

So, thanks to wish.com, but no thanks. I’ll pass.

Although, I’m still thinking about that pee-proof underwear….

How do I get home from here?

Every time I get in my car, my phone likes to tell me how close I am to my house.

I’m not sure why does this. I’m at the grocery store and I get in my car and look at the phone screen and it says helpfully, “12 minutes to get home; take Washington Road.”

Yeah I’m aware. I drove here myself. From my house. Less than an hour ago.

My 16-year-old daughter Boo has just started driving herself to school. She says her phone has decided that the high school is called “work.” And when she gets in her car in the morning, her phone says helpfully, “Would you like directions to work?”

No, I’m pretty clear on how to get there. I go there every day.

Honestly, I think my phone is just showing off at this point. It just wants me to know exactly how much it knows about me.

It’s got a slightly creepy vibe, like that old song by The Police.

My phone just wants to say, “I know where you live. I know where you work. I know where you are at all times.

“Every breath you take, I’ll be watching you.”

A Marketing Fail

So I got this in the mail. It is addressed to me personally.

It is a beautiful glossy 50 page catalog dedicated exclusively to the Chevrolet Corvette.


I don’t know who is in charge of choosing the marketing demographic for people they send this mailing to, but they need to be fired immediately.

Anyone who thinks that I can afford a vehicle of this kind or who thinks that I’m even interested in looking at 50 pages of pictures of a vehicle of this kind is wrong.

Check your marketing research, Chevrolet. You just wasted your money.

How (NOT) To Get Things Done

I’m very annoyed with Two-Hours-Ago Me, who chose to read a book after dinner.

I just came in to the kitchen and found that the dishes aren’t done.

So I guess Two-Hours-Ago Me thought it would be OK to just shove this job off onto Future Me. It seemed OK to her.

But now that I AM Future Me, I see the problem.

The dishes did not, in fact, do themselves.

Surprise, surprise.

Middle School Begins

So the twins are officially in middle school now.

I know this for sure, not just because I took them to their new sixth grade class last week and helped them navigate their class schedule and learn to open their lockers.

These are of course important middle school milestones, but today we reached another crucial middle school point: the Secret Admirer Letter.

My son received one in his locker!

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately for him) it was addressed to another boy.

Hue is not my son’s name. (I don’t think it’s actually the correct spelling of any boy’s name, in fact, but that’s beside the point.)

Some poor girl put it in the wrong locker I suppose. Well, he has his twin sister to help straighten this out, and the letter will be redirected tomorrow.

The travails of middle school have definitely begun!

UPDATE: 21 August 2019

Here’s an update on the secret admirer post from yesterday:

Little Girl took the note to the intended recipient, who was in fact named Hugh (not Hue).

She explained it had been put in her brother’s locker, but of course it appeared to Hugh that it was a note from her. So in true middle school fashion he sent his friend to interrogate her.

  • Friend: So…. did you send this note?
  • Little girl: No.
  • Friend: Then… where did you get the note?
  • Little Girl: It was in my brother’s locker.
  • Friend: So… how did you know it was for my friend?
  • Little girl: Because it said his name.
  • Friend: And… how do you know his name?
  • Little girl: Because he sits next to me in first period.
  • Friend: So… you admit that he is in your class?
  • Little girl: Yes.
  • Friend: And… you admit you know his name?
  • Little girl: Yes.
  • Friend: (Moving in for the kill) How do you SPELL his name?
  • Little girl: H U G H
  • Friend: Oh. (to Hugh) She’s clean, man.

I think this kid may have a future in law enforcement.