Beard Combing, Taxes, and Sabotage

The other day, a man in front of us at church pulled a comb out of his shirt pocket and proceeded to comb his beard.  And I would like to state for the record that I had no idea that beard combing was a thing.

Thoughts?

I am  nearing the finish line for our grade level chick-hatching project.  The chicks are due to hatch on Sunday.  I came home today and opened an incubator to add water, saw a chick, and screamed my head off.

Lucky for David, I had just called him when I started screaming.

David:  Hello?

Me: AHHHHHHHH!

David:  Hello?

Me:  Sorry!  A chick?

David:  Huh?

Me:  A chick!

David:  Huh?

Me:  Nothing.  Have you heard from the accountant?

David:  Nope.

Me:  Ok, bye.

We have been waiting for days and days and days to hear how much we owe in taxes due to the sale of the rental house last year.

Selling houses.  It’s all fun and games until the tax bill is due.

Today, I had to take the boys to town with me.  HD and LD are polar opposites when it comes to personal appearance.  HD cares a bit too much and LD cares not at all.

He was getting ready to walk out of the house in basketball garb, socks, and muddy/poopy Crocs.

Me:  You cannot wear those.

LD:  Why not?

Me:  They are gross.

LD:  It is fine.

Me:  Nope.  I washed your sneakers.  Go find them.

Later, I walked into the living room as he was singing to the cat as song he had just then made up:

“Thank you, Mom, for washing my shoes!  They look really fantastic!”

So, I’ll keep him around.

I dropped the boys off at the gym to meet up with friends from school and play basketball.  When I picked them up, they were starving and LD was quite smelly.

Me:  Doooooooooood.  You are putting deoderant on everyday, right?

LD:  Well, not EVERY day!  It says it works for 48 hours.

Me:  E-V-E-R-Y-D-A-Y!

I drove through McDonalds for them and then LD had mayo on his face.  I handed him a wipe and told him to wipe his face.  I checked a bit later and it was still there.

LD:  Oh!  I thought you said MUSTARD was on my face.

Me:  But why would you look in the mirror and not wipe the mayo off?

LD shrugs and this is what it is like to raise an almost thirteen year old boy who is taller than you and likes to announce that he is growing  MAN HAIR on his legs.  May the Lord bless me and keep me.

Hazel is seven weeks old now.  I love her with my whole being.

David just bought three pigs because he likes to make everything smell.  The puppy brothers and Charlie feel it is their job to try and murder the pigs daily.  Even though the pigs are quite large and could easily murder them.

This morning, I went outside with Hazel’s bottle.  No cows were nearby, so I knew I would have to walk a bit to find her.  I started to scold the canines and Hazel came running out of the back 40 mooing and wagging her tail.

And the whole point of THAT story is to tell you that she knows my voice.  And I love her.

Finally, if you ever think you are having a bad day, think about Purple Cow #5.

Purple Cow #5 lives in a big pen with many other moooooooooody ladies, all vying for the same man.  Imagine being Purple Cow #5 and having one of your competitors poop directly on your head.

If that’s not sabotage, I don’t know what is.

Happy Friday!