Just Call Me Bob

My Tuna Pot Pie
Originally uploaded by Kimpossible, HEM, PWTPI.

This picture is of a tuna pot pie that I made with WIC-approved tuna and frozen vegetables. I MADE THE CRUST, PEOPLE, BE IMPRESSED. The tongue of the smiley face is a result of me testing the crust just to be sure it was OK since the recipe actually called for LARD and I substituted shortening. Even my mother was shocked that there was a cookbook still in publication that uses that four-letter word. And just for the record, we are not enrolled in WIC, but we could probably qualify.

I spent the day recovering from some awful disease which struck me yesterday. It was one of those sicknesses where everything hurts, even your hair, and you find yourself wishing you could throw up because during the time that you are throwing up, your stomach stops hurting just for a minute and you get some relief. Husband, who had to come home from work yesterday to take care of The Goose while I writhed in pain and who also is not a doctor, says it was a 24-hour virus. I maintain that it was food poisoning that I contracted at an opening night reception for a play called Kimberly Akimbo (rating: decent) which I attended on Friday night. At the reception they served wine in clear plastic cups, cubed cheese, spinach dip, and those pinwheel thingies that are made with tortillas, deli meat, and sliced swiss cheese (and which were likely from the frozen section of Sam's). I hate Sam's, and so this CERTAINLY the cause of my illness. I am better now, but have mostly spent the day eating saltines and baked potatoes just in case. Next to Husband's carrot cake and homegrown 'mater sandwiches with mayo, salt, and pepper, CRACKERS are my favorite food on earth.

So ... about the title ...

My child has his "Ms" and "Bs" confused. He used to say MAMAMAMAMAMAMA all the time, and now all of a sudden he's calling me Bob. Just last week he said "Mom" on cue for Husband's co-workers, and now when I ask him "What's my name? Who is this?" (while pointing to my chest area), he says, with authority, "Bob." If you point to his dad and ask the same, he always says, "Dah-Dah." If you point to a ball, he says, "Bah." If you pick up the phone, he says, "Bye-Bye." If you try to put a bib or hat on him, he says, "NO NO NO NO NO." So it's clear that this is not just a little mistake. He wants me to be called Bob. And I'm starting to like it ... for one thing, it's one of those words that are spelled the same backwards and forwards ... what are those called? Anagrams? Somebody correct me please. Anyway, it's that. AND it's an acronym for Big Ole Butt, which is quite fitting these days.

Today while we were in Kroger, the checkout guy (who, by the way, forgot to scan my Kroger card and ended up charging me $5.99 for a sippy cup that was on sale for $2.62) gave The Goose a sticker that said, "Great Meals Start at Kroger" and then something about and cost cutting and discounts (HA! -- what a scam). Across the bottom of the sticker is the phrase, "Have You Seen B.O.B.?" I have no idea what that means, but I'm sure it's something they want you to ask about just so they can con you into filling out a form for a Kroger credit card. Who needs that? I do just fine charging $40 minimum to my Mastercard each time I'm in there even when I leave the list in the car and forget everything on it. Here is a picture of The Goose wearing his sticker proudly:

At our Kroger they have an announcement that plays over the P.A. system that says, "Attention Kroger shoppers! A woman in the deli section has just lost something. She's lost INCHES FROM HER WAIST!" Without fail I hear this in the ice cream section. Today I heard it in the ice cream section while unknowingly bending over in front of three cute fire fighters who had just watched me ram the race car shopping cart (with a Goose-sized steering wheel) into a display of carefully layered boxes of waffle cones. Grace just oozes from me.

Now watch, this is a good transition ...

One of the things on my left-in-the-car list was manilla file folders, because I have court tomorrow (Kimpossible vs. NorthWORST Airlines) and I don't have anything in which to put my evidence. It is entirely too much trouble to go back out to the car with a Prize Baby (who has now unfastened the race car seatbelt and is standing up chanting "BobBobBob!") to get your list (or, god forbid, going back into Kroger after reading over your list in the car just before you pull out of the parking lot (while smacking yourself in the head because you are dumber than a rock)), SO, after returning home, I made my way back to the south wing of the house, where there is a TINY Tiny tiny room that was once used to house that kidnapped owl. Yes, I know that's weird. This house used to be the park's education center, so we have lots of weird stuff going on around here. Before the carpet people came back in January, the floor in the Tiny Room was covered in owl poop. Now it's covered in a lovely vanilla-colored, state-approved Berber. We just use the room for storage. So anyway, I was back there looking through my grad school stuff for an empty manilla folder when I discovered that our secondary air conditioning unit (which is housed in the owlery) was leaking profusely. So much so that mushrooms have started growing from our carpet.

You think I'm kidding?

Will somebody please just put me out of my misery? Let's stop and think for a minute about the features of my home ...

• Owlery with Mushrooms (and BRs)
• Science Lab/Weight Room with 32 electrical outlets (and BRs)
• Chicken Coop/Room with Ceiling Fan (with BRs)
• Yoga Room/Playroom (with BRs)
• Smokehouse (with BRs)
• Frequent Predators (including, but not limited to BRs, a baby-snatching bobcat, raccoons, snakes, mice, WASPS, and deer)

I should really keep all of that a secret because someone is likely to read this and contact the state ASAP about purchasing this enticing piece of property. But just between you and me ... we get this baby RENT FREE! Sssshhhh. Don't tell anyone.

Well, I gotta go. Husband just came home from work and said, "Pimpin' ain't easy. Now get off the computer and do your yoga so I can live with you." C U L8ter.