Something On a Sunday

KC is amazingly still fast asleep upstairs. Something that is quite not the norm in this household as usually I'm the one playing slug-a-bug in bed on a Sunday. But it's nice, this silence, this little sliver of alone time. And though I know it can't last, I'm typing quietly.

Dad invited KC and I over to dinner last night, the usual Italian fare, which was fine with me as it saved me from having to spend unnecessary time in the kitchen, neither preparing or cleaning. Even figured I'd bring our own Romano cheese, as Dad never seems to have any around and of course, I had guessed correctly. As a thank you very much for dinner, I decided to leave the bottle there as an oops.

After dinner, Becky and Jodi opted for a bicycle ride while Dad and KC went for a short little walk. Normally I would have tagged along, but having just purchased (I told you I shouldn't be let out of the house with money.) the new Tori ~ Welcome To Sunny Florida DVD (Sorry Mike ... Did you really think this instant gratification girl could wait for a burned copy?) I wasn't about to miss out on the chance to watch it on the big screen with surround sound.

And it was marvelous. As well as very reminiscent of the concert I saw out in Syracuse back in March of 2003. The woman is a genius.

I do have to share one little bit of funny with you before I take myself off this morning to do chores and other necessary evils about the house. A brief moment dating itself back to yesterday while I was at HOME DEPOT inspecting color slides for the color of KC's new room.

We had just turned a corner, cart and all, loaded with yet another bag of peating moss and verbena, when we almost crashed head first into this really good looking guy. Making our apologies, we maneuvered around each other but as we did, I couldn't help but notice (the incredible mass of muscle in his upper body, the thick brown hair, short and spiked, the way he moved with confidence and agility ...) the fact that his pants seemed to have a little bit more than a blow out. I kid you not, he looked like a bizarre accident.


And when I say blow out, I mean that the entire ass of his jeans were hanging around his knees, leaving his entire hind end - clad in white blue speckled boxers - on display for all the world to see. (Hallelujah to the lord of bad fashion!)

KC however was quite puzzled, and as a parent, I wondered if I shouldn't do something more productive like shade her eyes, even as I tried to get a better look. KC however required explanation, almost taking it upon herself to go ask him with how loudly she was whispering to me.

Which leads me to the fact that eight year olds, even one as precocious as mine, can be deceived with even the tiniest bit of convincing.

Who knew that self air conditioning pants were all the rage with roof builders?