Good Preschools: Every $1 invested yields a $3 return

Or so I read today in a magazine.

Yesterday, I went through Colin's bag after school. I found a construction paper house that was one of his art projects in his pre-preschool class. On it, the teacher had written:

"House: A habitat for people."

Habitat?

I guess this partially explains the watercolor painting he made yesterday. We asked him to describe the picture, and he said, "That a cave, and that a tent, and that an area."

My post-tax dollars at work!

"Some Dudes" are having the Best Week Ever

Because, apparently, they feel that they may perch their cars wherever they please, no matter how much of an inconvenience or illegality it is!

Scene #1: I parked in front of the supermarket, then walked across the large shopping center, Hayden in stroller, to get some coffee. (Why re-park, right?) On my way back from getting coffee, I prepared to roll off of the sidewalk into the walking path that traverses the busy, busy road through the parking lot. Note that the walking path is for pedestrians only, and is surrounded on both sides by disabled parking spaces.

And there, parked, blocking the pathway, edging into the disable spots with his fenders fore and aft, just barely covering the huge, white capital letters stating DO NOT BLOCK, was Some Dude in a Minivan. What's worse, I notice he's texting. Or something. I give him the staredown and mental vibes. Doesn't look up. Cars start piling up behind him before venturing blindly around him, hoping the oncoming traffic won't hit them. Still doesn't look up. I walk up to his window. Still doesn't look up. I'm wondering at this point if he's dead, eyes open. But wait! Arm movement!

So I weigh the options - behind him or in front of him? Which will least likely cause the death of my child as I venture around this creep? I decide "front". I cross the walkway, then look back. Dude still hasn't moved.


Scene #2: So I go back to the store, do my shopping, and pack up the car. As I prepare to back out, I see Some Dude in a Sedan. He's parked behind me, at a red curb, marked FIRE LANE - NO STOPPING AT ANY TIME, and blocking a fire hydrant. So I proceed to slowly pull out... Dude doesn't move. Watching for oncoming traffic, I pull out further. Dude finally gets off his cell phone, juggles it in the air as he tries not to drop it while starting his car and throwing it into reverse before I flatten his car with mine. Luckily, there were no other cars or pedestrians behind him, as he didn't bother to look. Tragedy averted!

Some Dudes - you're making men look bad! Shame, shame!

Oversmurfed at the park

This is just what I want to hear while walking with my kids. (Actually, I had to hide my little fit of laughter as we walked by.)

Four boys, aged approximately thirteen years old, had abandoned their bike to play on the swings.

Boy #1 (smirkily): So, Adam, have you had your... first experience?

Boy #2 (confused): First experience with what?

Boy #3: Yeah - with a Smurf doll!

Adam: That's right - my first experience was with a Smurf doll, some honey, and a roll of toilet paper!

...

Boy, am I glad I didn't know my husband at thirteen!

Ouch!

So this video is almost a year old, but it's SOOOO cute. And the number of spoofs it's unleashed is unreal. Kids being kids!

Overheard... locally

I enjoy reading Overheard Everywhere (though the original is still the best). This local tidbit made me smile! (And if you don't know what the Castro is famous for... Google it!)



Automated train station announcement: Castro street station.

Excited little girl: Yay! Castro!

Bystander: The dictator or the district?

Excited little girl thinks for a second: The rainbows!


Castro Street Station
San Francisco, California
Overheard by: Dawn

Overheard at the Park

Mom, picking up plastic and rubber balls in the sandbox, to another mom:

"My son's the one who keeps grabbing your son's balls."

Oh. My. God.

Anyone who really knows me knows these things about me:

(1) I am totally phobic about food storage and food preparation. I am convinced that everything will give me food poisoning.

(2) I love to bake.

(3) I'm a stickler for punctuation.

(4) I know way too much about desert tortoises and will tell you about them until you are sorry that you asked.

This post only concerns the first two bulletpoints, though.

My cousin Amy recently blogged about this charming episode.

It should be noted that the original poster, when determining that perhaps this cake mix was "only sold in the U.S.", neglected to notice that the box has "flavor" spelled with a "u" and that the weight on the box is listed in grams, not ounces. Thus... it's pr'y not American.

Note also that I didn't change the original poster's interesting punctuation and spelling choices. Okay, fine... I changed one misspelled word. I couldn't help myself!

I can only hope that this is a totally fake story.

Anyway.... enjoy! Try not to throw up in your mouth!


Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Too Good NOT to post!

A nice post from a blog that my friend Brian (Heather's Husband), found on a website.
Good God. Have you ever done something you thought was ‘normal’, and then found out about how bad it was later? Much to your horror?

Meet the 17 Year Old Cake.



Gather around my children and I shall tell you a tale.

My friend had received a cake mix in a food donation box she was given around Christmas or so. Many destitute people in our area receive them, and think nothing of them. The odd time, you’ll find an expired/near-expired food item, but it’s nothing to be concerned about.

One day, while in a raging-afternoon hunger, we decided to make said pudding cake to quell said hunger.

Preparation was the same as any pudding cake, as were the ingredients. After a brief wait, the cake had cooled and was ready to be eaten. I walked up to it and commented on how it smelled of cherry Jell-O. I suppse this shoudln’t have been a surprise, as the ’sauce’ that is sprinkled on it while baking was reminiscent texture-wise of Cherry Jell-O powder.

We each dug out a bowlful, and began to chow down. I don’t think I managed more than three bites, and my friend managed even less. We thought it was just awful.

“It tastes like cough syrup.”
“This is nasty.”
“At least my cold went away.”
We disposed of the nastiness that was Robin Hood Cherry Pudding Cake, and then it hit me.
“Grace?”
“Mmnn?”
“Why have I never seen this cake in the stores?”
“Beats me. I checked the box. There’s no expiry date.”

It was true. After scanning the box several thorough times, there was nothing. Not even a lot number. I was now officially paranoid. I decided to do some research on the internet for this cake. Perhaps they only sold it in the US?

No luck. There wasn’t even a mention of this cake anywhere online. Not on the Robin Hood site, nor Wiki, nor Google. (I e-mailed Robin Hood to inquire about the cake, but to this day, I’ve never received a response.)

The only real identifying mark on the box, was the company address. I decided to do a Google search on that. Much to my dismay, I discovered something shocking. The last time that company worked from that address, was in 1989.

1989.
The cake was from 1989. At LEAST. That was the LAST the company was at that address. So the cake was at least 17 years old.

Blech.

I can honestly say, that was one hell of a cake. I suppose it wasn’t BAD for 17 year old cake mix. But good god. Who donated that thinking of how old it was? Perhaps it was donated after some old broad died and they cleared out her cupboards.
-shudders- If you ever come upon something questionable, do us all a favor and throw it out. Please don’t donate it.
-wince-