Well, how's that for a title? Today's title is brought to you by: Straight to the point, thank you very much, but somebody's tired, and possibly a little bit cranky.
We do have very fun weekend plans.
Plans that include some of this:
Anybody want to ooh and aah over the cute presents? Oh, and in case you're wondering about the big red present with the strange Kindergarten-looking coloring on the front (No offense to the Kindergartners that read this blog.) That, my dears, is a FIRE, as in it's a present for Fireman Nathan for his Fireman Party. Oh yes, we are going to be partying at the firestation. I hear they are even going to let the adults drive the firetruck around the block, if we want. I am TOTALLY going to drive that thing! Oh yeah, and I am going to run the siren the entire time. And then, I'm going to stop by a fire hydrant and quick hook up the hose, and SPRAY anyone who comes near me. "Get back!! If you come any closer, I'll SPRAY YA!! No. I am NOT giving up this firetruck, and you can't make me." Spray, spray, spray.
Okay, none of that is true. Well, except for the part about the party being at the firestation. And, now that I've written this, I'm sure the firemen will not let me anywhere near their shiny trucks. Dangit. I'd really like to drive one of those things. I'd also really like to spray people who try to get close enough pry the firetruck keys out of my fingers.
Oh, but back to the presents. That pretty white sack with the pink paper is not for Fireman Nathan my nephew. That pink and white one is for my Sissy. That's what I call my sister. I know it sounds like I am a Southern hick when I call her that, but since that is exactly what I am, I will continue calling her that. Sissy. Sissy Sissy Sissy.
I can't tell you what is in her gift sack. Because she might read this blog JUST to FIND OUT. And I want her completely practical gift that SHE ASKED ME FOR to be a surprise. That sister, she is known for asking for practical gifts. Through the years, I believe I have bought her a laundry basket, a Swiffer mop, and a bag of potatoes. Okay, not really the potatoes...
Speaking of potatoes, do you see those lovely shining jars of homemade salsa in the picture? Oh, those old things? Those things are probably most assuredly why I am so tired today. Because somebody had the bright idea to make her favorite little sister a batch of salsa for her birthday, and was up into the wee hours of the morning slaving over hot tomatoes, jalapenos, and onions.
See, I know I've told ya'll how I make salsa for my redneck brother-in-law for his birthday. He's the one who's made me world famous for my salsa. Or, possibly just county-famous. Anyway, evidently, that crazy brother-in-law of mine is a little bit stingy with the salsa. He monitors the ounces left in each jar, and gets all riled up with my pray-shus baby sister when she has 2 chips with a little dab of salsa at lunchtime. So, I stood up to that guy, looked 'em in the eye, and said, "I'll just make a batch for my Sissy. So there."
And, he said, and I quote here--"Good."
Okay, is anybody tired of all the rambling I'm doing yet? 'Cause I can stop anytime now.
But, before I stop I would like to make a public proclamation: I would publicly like to thank the Arkansas Razorbacks for having games. Because, evidently, my family likes to get together--all of us--and go to those games. Well, 5 of us go. Or, I should say 5 of them go. I am not allowed to go to the games. For some reason, a simple working knowledge of football is required of family members who get to use the fancy season tickets. Also required of family members using fancy season tickets? You have to actually watch the game, and not just hang out at the snack bar. Evidently, the game down on the field is more important to watch than ordering more nachos and frito chili pies. Who knew?
Well, I have held ya'll hostage long enough. Go on, now, and enjoy your own weekends.
Speaking of...What's on your weekend agenda?