Bath stew
Do you like my blog's new look? She kept begging and begging for plastic surgery. I told her she was too young and I wasn't going to pay for it. I told her she needed to get a job and I had "had it up to here" with her demanding ways. I gave in. I need to take a parenting class...again.
Can we please talk about baths now? Aren't baths kind of gross? For the first few minutes that you or your child is in the bath, fine. No harm there. As the water turns from scalding to lukewarm, there straight-up are some bacteria in there from which you need to escape. Get your butt outta there and protect yourself from yourself! ("You bettah check yosef befo you wreck yo-sehhhhhf..." Now, would you just excuse me? I am so sorry about that little Ice Cube (thanks, Sonny!) outburst [as I pat down my hair & straighten my shirt]). Last night I was determined I was going to finish the book Outlander and wasn't getting out of the bath until I did. People, I had the Sun Maid arrive in my bathroom. She had a really big red box and she was trying to stuff me inside it. I told her I thought that was ridiculous. She told me that raisins do not make good mothers and I was no longer of any use to my family. What does she know about raisin' raisins?? Those California Raisins 
looked like they had a pretty good singing career to me. We all know that behind most successful people (or raisins) there are wonderful mothers. I couldn't think fast enough to tell that to SM. I just hate when that happens. Anyway, back to the bath talk...besides turning into a shriveled grape, you are just floating in dead skin stew. When your bath is no longer giving you second degree burns, you might as well be sitting in the middle of a huge porcelain pot (now that sounds a lot like a toilet, but please don't be steered in the wrong direction- I mean a cooking pot, for goodness sake). Somebody needs to stir you up and put you in a bowl. The thing that gets me through it all is the thought that a long time ago (and still in parts of the Appalachians), people took (and take) baths in the dang river. I mean...talking about stew. That's snake, fish, turtle, bug, salamander and frog stew in which those people washed (or wash) their locks. The baths in our whirlpool tub suddenly seem so pure. It's a good thing, because I am filthy after a day spent at the rodeo with my little dudes & I need to finish up War & Peace tonight. I'm on page 2.
I leave you with the Sun Maid's progression over the years starting with Lorraine there in 1915. Somebody take that nice lady's basket. She's 95 years old!
Can we please talk about baths now? Aren't baths kind of gross? For the first few minutes that you or your child is in the bath, fine. No harm there. As the water turns from scalding to lukewarm, there straight-up are some bacteria in there from which you need to escape. Get your butt outta there and protect yourself from yourself! ("You bettah check yosef befo you wreck yo-sehhhhhf..." Now, would you just excuse me? I am so sorry about that little Ice Cube (thanks, Sonny!) outburst [as I pat down my hair & straighten my shirt]). Last night I was determined I was going to finish the book Outlander and wasn't getting out of the bath until I did. People, I had the Sun Maid arrive in my bathroom. She had a really big red box and she was trying to stuff me inside it. I told her I thought that was ridiculous. She told me that raisins do not make good mothers and I was no longer of any use to my family. What does she know about raisin' raisins?? Those California Raisins looked like they had a pretty good singing career to me. We all know that behind most successful people (or raisins) there are wonderful mothers. I couldn't think fast enough to tell that to SM. I just hate when that happens. Anyway, back to the bath talk...besides turning into a shriveled grape, you are just floating in dead skin stew. When your bath is no longer giving you second degree burns, you might as well be sitting in the middle of a huge porcelain pot (now that sounds a lot like a toilet, but please don't be steered in the wrong direction- I mean a cooking pot, for goodness sake). Somebody needs to stir you up and put you in a bowl. The thing that gets me through it all is the thought that a long time ago (and still in parts of the Appalachians), people took (and take) baths in the dang river. I mean...talking about stew. That's snake, fish, turtle, bug, salamander and frog stew in which those people washed (or wash) their locks. The baths in our whirlpool tub suddenly seem so pure. It's a good thing, because I am filthy after a day spent at the rodeo with my little dudes & I need to finish up War & Peace tonight. I'm on page 2. I leave you with the Sun Maid's progression over the years starting with Lorraine there in 1915. Somebody take that nice lady's basket. She's 95 years old!
