- Thank you, THANK YOU for all the awesome comments and advice on the Legos! I would rather get opinions from folks I know, than some random dude on Amazon. So, really - thanks. We are going to go with the simple 71 piece set of Duplos. If it turns out he is a Lego Builder Extraordinaire, we will investigate getting something fancier. A big selling point to the Duplos? Someone remarked on the pieces not being as painful to step on. Less pain? I am so there.
- School lunch price increases are putting a hardship on parents. WTH? That is wrong. Wrong. No parent should have to stress about his or her child's lunch.
- Okay - that little girl Caylee who has been missing, and yet her mother did not report it for over a month? Um, that is, in and of itself, so very, very disturbing. But now? They find chloroform in the mother's car trunk? Truly, I cried reading this. A little girl is missing, folks. Vanished. Something is so very terribly wrong with this entire story.
- Every year, before the Johnson County Old Settler's parade, the nearby junior high's marching band makes a practice trek right in front of my house. I heard the distant *boom!boom!*dum*dum*dum* of the drums and got my ass out of bed and down the stairs so that I would be waiting on the front steps. They were playing the Theme Song from Peter Gunn, a classic in the annals of marching band goodness. Ah, the sweet, sweet memories of a marching band.
- Watching a friend bask in some hard-earned glory is truly inspiring, folks. We had the book signing for the Sleep is for the Weak book last night. So many of our friends and family showed up - it was so cool. Rita has earned this due and I was so thrilled to see her get it. I was also so touched by the friends and family of mine who drove from far and wide to attend.
- And finally. My daughter? Is breaking my heart. It seems that she prefers shoes over handbags. WTF? The other day at Wal-mart, as we passed the shoe section, Anjali leaned out the cart and cried while wailing "Shoooooes! SHOOOOOES!". At home, she frequently brings her shoes to me. Apparently, I am her Al Bundy in all of this. And no, it does not matter if Mary Janes do not really accentuate her green set of dinosaur pajamas, the shoes? They must be put on. NOW, sister. Chop, chop! What did I do to deserve this? I blame my sister for this. She is the shoe hound in the family.