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Girlfriend was watching Charlotte’s Web and informed me that she wants a pig. Not any fool stuffed pig, either, but a real pig.
Has anyone figured out a reasonable solution for storing cookie sheets, wire racks, muffin tins, etc.? Or does everyone just shove them into a cupboard and slam the door and hope to never need one again?
My mother-in-law is visiting, which is why I have limited time to blog. No mother-in-law jokes, please. Also, I don’t have anything to talk about.
Sugar Daddy got free tickets to the Fright Town haunted house thingamajig at the Memorial Coliseum, so we went there last night. The usual stuff happened. I screamed, he laughed. (At me.) That’s why we go to these things. It’s not for my benefit, that’s for darn sure. To his credit, SD always thanks me for “indulging” him. I wonder if he notices that I don’t ever say, “You’re welcome.” Just doing my wifely duty, sir. (And he didn’t even buy me dinner–apparently, we’ve been married far too long.)
When we were coming out of Fright Town, we met a homeless guy who wanted a cigarette. We didn’t have any cigarettes on us, so he asked if we had any change. He wanted to get something to eat, and also a beer. I’ve noticed that homeless people are being very upfront lately about their intentions to buy beer. I think they think we appreciate their honesty. I actually couldn’t care less. The cat’s homeless–who am I to micromanage his beverage choices? So we gave him some money, and then he said, “How about a hug?” Uh…okay, then. So he hugged both of us. Then he asked us to pray for him. You can pray for him, too. His name is Todd.
That’s about all I have for today. I wish there were more, but there isn’t. Happy Wednesday, amigos.
1. He loves to play Empire at War. Technically, he bought it for his father’s birthday, but he’s gotten a lot more use out of it.
2. He’s going to dress up as Tyber Zann for Halloween.
3. He’s writing a Star Wars comic book. (Anyone sensing a theme here?) This is how it starts:
[click to enlarge]
4. He loves animals. His favorite animal used to be the panda. Then it was the red panda. When he was reading the Warriors series, it was cats. Now his favorite animal is a horse, specifically a gray Arabian. He asked for a horse a few weeks ago. I explained to him that it was out of the question. Now he wants a fish.
5. He is not a morning person. In this he takes after his mother.
6. He was very proud of himself for learning how to play the mini-harp. He was excited about taking piano lessons, but five months later, that enthusiasm has evaporated completely.
7. He and his best friend made up this song, “Evil Bunnies.” It goes like this
Evil bunnies–oh yeah
Devilish bunnies–oh yeah
Fol-low-ers of Lu-ci-fer
Evil bunnies–oh yeah
Devilish bunnies–oh yeah
Fol-low-ers of Lu-ci-fer
Evil bunnies–oh yeah
It goes on a bit more, but I don’t remember the rest of the words.
8. He thinks it’s hilarious to slap his own butt while dancing. He’s correct about that.
9. HE IS NINE YEARS OLD TODAY!!!
And now for the nostalgia portion of the program…
When I started this blog, he was three. I started out calling him just “Bubby,” but as I wrote in May 2004:
Bubby must henceforth be called Mister Bubby, as he has taken up hairstyling as his new hobby. Last night before bed, as he was brushing and combing (you need both, you know), he told me, “This is just to make your curwy hair vewy smoov. And then I will make it vewy long.” I said, “That’s good, Mister Bubby. You sure know a lot about hair.” “I do,” he replied. This morning he brushed and combed my hair with water (from a spray bottle, of course–tools of the trade) and asked when he could get some scissors to cut it. I told him he had to go to beauty school first.
Here is another post about him from June 2004:
What has really made my day thusfar is that I had an opportunity (while Elvis was napping and PZ was sending Disney e-cards to imaginary e-mail accounts) to play dolls with Mister Bubby.
MB has always been more in touch with his nurturing side than his sister has. PZ’s baby doll phase lasted about a week. MB, on the other hand, got plenty of use out of the pink dolly stroller with the flowers on it. It was really cute to watch him push his Ernie doll around the neighborhood while he made “vroom vroom” noises.
Likewise, he has gotten a lot of pleasure out of our dollhouse. Like many other Americans, we own the Fisher Price Loving Family dollhouse, because I don’t think toy stores are allowed to sell any other kind (unless they’re one of those hoity-toity toy stores that only sell hand-carved wooden toys too expensive for children to play with). The mommy and daddy dolls that came with it have these odd mechanical features. If you pinch her legs together (there’s really no good way to phrase that, is there?), the mommy doll’s torso will sway side to side, so she can rock the baby. When you pinch the daddy doll’s legs, he raises his arms–supposedly so he can pick up the baby, but it doesn’t work very well (unless catapulting the baby could be considered a form of picking it up), and it looks more like he’s making an obscene gesture. Which actually has made the dollhouse a lot more fun than it would be otherwise. For my husband, anyway.
This morning I noticed that the mommy doll was missing. When I asked MB where Mommy was, he said, “Mommy went out the window. Mommy’s dead.” (I tried not to take that personally.) So the first thing we did was have an earthquake, wherein each member of the family, including infants and pets, got thrown around the house, had furniture fall on them and eventually jumped off the balcony. Mommy doll was eventually found and got into a brawl with Daddy doll in the living room. (I swear I don’t know where he gets this stuff.) Mister Bubby’s sensitive side reared its head when the family cat got thrown through the second story window and he couldn’t find him again. He got this concerned look on his face and asked, “Did my kitty get kiwled?” As it turned out, the kitty was not mortally wounded but lived to fight with the teddy bear and later take a dump on the family room floor.
We did play out one typical domestic scene when Daddy doll ran around the house making obscene gestures and shouting, “I HAVE TO MAKE DINNER! I HAVE TO MAKE DINNER! AAAUUGHHH!” I can’t wait until he discovers tea parties.
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MISTER BUBBY!
Or at the very least, Breast Adequacy. Which is to say that I got the results of my biopsy back, and everything is fine.
I want to thank all of you for your concern and well-wishes. It really means a lot to me.
Enough warmth. Enjoy your weekend, gentle readers.
Before…
Sugar Daddy: You’re doing your hair before you go to your biopsy?
Madhousewife: Yes. I am.
SD: It isn’t a good-looking guy doing the procedure, is it?
Mad: No. I thought I’d put on some lipstick anyway, though.
SD: Would you like me to help you apply some foundation to cover the stretch marks, too?
Mad: Yeah, that’d be good. Thanks.
On the drive to the Center for Breast Excellence…
Mad: Oh, great. I got chocolate on my shirt. Well, that’s okay, I’m going to be topless for most of this thing anyway.
After…
Mad: It says I should limit breast movement for the next 24 hours. So I need to avoid activities such as window washing and aerobics.
SD: Window washing?!
Mad: Yeah, you’ll never look at window washing the same way again, will you?
I have another post at BCC. I’m supposed to have the results of my biopsy tomorrow. In the meantime, send your healing karma in my direction because my left breast is pretty freaking sore at the moment, and I’m being a real wuss about it.
I’ve seen a few blogs in the last few weeks where the gimmick is to post what’s in your draft folder, i.e. posts that you started but never finished, and ask your readers which ones they’d like your to finish. Or something. The problem with my draft folder is that it’s full of unfinished posts that are, like, half a sentence long, and I can’t remember what I was talking about in the first place–except for two short posts, both dated December 12, 2008. One of them is about Rod Blagojevich, and it’s actually a complete blog. I remember exactly why I didn’t publish it, though: it was Friday.
I’ve noticed that people don’t usually read my blog on Fridays. In general I don’t pay a lot of attention to my blog stats (other than Wacky Search Terms because those are always entertaining) because I pretty much have the flavor of my blog’s popularity, and it ain’t changing one way or another. But I have noticed, just from casual observation, that people don’t read it as much on Fridays. [Note: This is more true of Xanga than WordPress.] Which would be irrelevant, except that I get writer’s block, and if I’m in a big writer’s block slump and I’m just forcing myself to post, regardless of what day it is, I get to Friday and think, “Eh, who cares, no one will notice if it’s here or not anyway.” And so I don’t force myself to do it. Yeah, that Friday-slacking-off thing has sort of bled into the rest of the week, too, but in the beginning it was just Friday. Well, whatever. As you can see, I’m getting over it. I totally posted last Friday, and it was a long one, too. You probably missed it, since it was Friday, but trust me, it was a doozy. (Actually, it was only so-so. I was just trying to make you feel guilty for not paying enough attention to me. Ha ha.)
So yeah, I wrote this blog about Rod Blagojevich, but it was Friday, and what probably went through my mind is, “This topic is already stale [because my political blogs are always at least two days behind everyone else's], and no one’s going to read it, and by the time Monday rolls around, Rod Blagojevich will be lining everyone’s metaphysical bird cages. So, eh , who cares?” Just like that. I think I was in an extra-apathetic mood because it was politics, and politics has just been depressing and not at all worth the trouble to me for the last…February, January, December, November…four months. Yeah, about four months. ::shrugs:: Go figure.
It’s interesting, though, to look back at a December 12 blog that I didn’t think was worth posting. Well, it’s interesting to me, but even if it isn’t to you, so what? It’s Monday, and chances are you’ll read it anyway.
Madhousewife’s old and out-of-date post on Rod Blagojevich
Blagojevich.
You know, I finally learned how to spell Ahmadinejad without looking it up first, and now I never have occasion to write about Ahmadinejad anymore. Oh well, these things are cyclical. I’m sure Ahmadinejad will show up in the news again. I just hope I haven’t forgotten how to spell it by then.
This may or may not be the last occasion I have to write about outgoing (there’s a euphimism) Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich, but right now he seems to be the hot topic in the news, so I thought I’d better practice spelling his name because looking it up all the time is annoying. (I’m talking to you, Mahmoud!) Blagojevich. Blagojevich. Doesn’t exactly roll off the fingers. A lot easier to say than type, really.
Here’s my take on the Blagojevich scandal: it’s juicy, but it isn’t getting any juicier than it already is, i.e. it will never be linked to Barack Obama. Two things:
1. Some have expressed skepticism that president-elect Obama would not have had any contact with Gov. Blagojevich on the matter of the senate seat, since, after all, it is Obama’s senate seat that is up for grabs, and doesn’t he have some interest in who will replace him? My thought is, “What does he care? He’s President now, baby!” Seriously, it’s not like Mr. Obama has been overly engaged with his senate career the last year and a half, so why would he suddenly take a renewed interest in it now that he’s won the election? As long as Blagojevich is appointing another Democrat to take his place, what difference does it make to him?
2. Barack Obama strikes me as a very shrewd mammal. Even if “Advisor B” turns out to be an Obama associate [anyone remember Advisor B? anyone?], well, I think Obama’s proven his ability and willingness to jettison unsavory associates when they are no longer useful to him. (I would have said “throw them under the bus,” but that made it seem like I disapproved.) Then there’s the problem of Obama’s image. To cop Joe Biden’s term, he comes off very “clean” (and articulate, too). Even people like me, who suspect he’s probably as dirty as the next Chicago politician, don’t really want him to be dirty. Do you remember how they used to call Ronald Reagan “the Teflon president”? Barack Obama is going to make Ronald Reagan look like unseasoned cast iron. Bill Clinton managed to wriggle out of every tough spot he found himself in, but even among his supporters, there was always this sense that the cat was capable of all manner of mischief. Barack Obama is unburdened by such an image, to say the least.
None of this is to say that a thorough investigation is unwarranted, just that gleeful, anticipatory hand-rubbing on the part of those looking to bring down Barack Obama is unwarranted. Believe me, right-wingers: if you couldn’t take down Bill Clinton, you’re not going to take down Barack Obama. Just get those silly dreams out of your heads now.
There it is. Short and sweet, and amazingly prescient–even for a post on an already-stale topic. Don’t tell me I can’t read the political tea leaves, kids.
And now, something trivial to make this post relevant to today…
it’s a poll!
So for the last several days I’ve been seeing links to stories about Bristol Palin’s interview with Fox News, in which she said that abstinence was “not realistic at all.” I mean, that’s always the extent of the reportage. “Bristol Palin: Abstinence ‘Not Realistic At All.’” And I’ve never followed the links because a) I don’t care, and b) I just don’t care. But after seeing the fifty-billionth link to Bristol Palin telling us abstinence was “not realistic at all,” I was finally like, “Fine–fine! What does that even mean, ‘abstinence is not realistic at all’? Is that what she actually said? Because although it sounds very much like what a not-abstinent teenager would say, I don’t understand why anyone thinks it’s worth reporting. Oh, news flash, an 18-year-old unmarried woman with a baby thinks abstinence is not realistic. Were we expecting her to tell us that aliens impregnated her? Who cares? WHO CARES?”
And so I finally clicked on a link to an article about the interview, which told me nothing more than the link text told me, and so I Googled for a transcript of the actual interview to get this money quote in context, and here it is:
GRETA VAN SUSTEREN: I don’t want to pry to personally, but I mean, actually, contraception is an issue here. Is that something that you were just lazy about or not interested, or do you have a philosophical or religious opposition to it or…
BRISTOL: No. I don’t want to get into detail about that. But I think abstinence is, like — like, the — I don’t know how to put it — like, the main — everyone should be abstinent or whatever, but it’s not realistic at all.
VAN SUSTEREN: Why?
BRISTOL: Because — I don’t want to get into details on this.
VAN SUSTEREN: Well, no, I don’t mean personally, just big picture, not — not necessarily about you, but…
BRISTOL: Because it’s more and more accepted now.
VAN SUSTEREN: Among your classmates and kids your age?
BRISTOL: Among — yes, among kids my age.
VAN SUSTEREN: How do you change that?
BRISTOL: To see stories like this and to see other stories of teen moms and just — it’s something that’s — I don’t know, just — you should just wait 10 years and it’d just be so much easier.
And there you have it: “But I think abstinence is, like — like, the — I don’t know how to put it — like, the main — everyone should be abstinent or whatever, but it’s not realistic at all. … I don’t want to get into details on this.”
Wow. Damning, isn’t it? Here’s Greta Van Susteren, getting all up into somebody else’s sex life, and here’s Bristol Palin saying she doesn’t actually want to talk about it, thanks. Riveting. I can’t tear myself away.
Yeah, I understand the relevant point is that Sarah Palin allegedly thinks teenagers shouldn’t be allowed to learn about birth control and also that they should be taught that Adam and Eve had a pet dinosaur, or whatever–so here’s her own daughter saying, essentially, that Mom’s full of crap. Or rather, that seems to be the simplest explanation for what she meant by that incoherent and incomplete sentence. So, yeah–as I said: Wow. I guess that just proves once and for all that abstinence education is a crock. It’s like finding the missing link, isn’t it? A red-letter day for social science, definitely.
Personally, I think abstinence programs are just another useless educational fad. If we must have sex education in the schools–and I guess we must, or everyone will just end up pregnant or get giant pustules on their genitalia, or both–I don’t see that it does any harm to tell students, “Oh, by the way, in case you were wondering why there aren’t more babies being born, it’s because we humans have figured out how to lower the risk of pregnancy via artificial means. It’s what separates us from the animals!” It’s not the knowing about contraceptives that makes teenagers all sex-crazy. It’s the hormones and the immature frontal lobes. Go ahead and teach them about contraceptives. Teach them about abstinence, too. It really doesn’t matter because they’re going to do whatever they freaking want anyway.
Also, for anyone who thinks ignorance of contraception is the problem: it’s the hormones and the immature frontal lobes, stupid. Plenty of kids know all about contraceptives and plan to wait until they’re married (or at least adults) anyway. I mean, I did. I, of course, am super-human–always have been–while most teenagers aren’t. But even your average, mortal teenagers will sometimes make these abstinence plans because they’re “religious” or it just seems like a “good idea”–and in the event that they goof up, they are more likely to get pregnant because the sex is spontaneous and unplanned and therefore uncontracepted. Really not a lot you can do about that short of surgically removing someone’s idealism. You could tell them, “Look, waiting until you’re married or in a mature place where you can handle an unplanned pregnancy is all well and good–but let’s face it, only freaks can go without sex until they’re mature. You don’t want to be a freak, do you? So you’d better plan your inevitable sexual encounter(s) now, so you can be prepared.” But they’re teenagers, and they won’t listen. They’re going to plan on not having sexual encounters–as if that constitutes any kind of plan! Ah, kids. Some of them (freaks, for example) might accidentally make it to adulthood without losing their virginity, but it’s really not under your control one way or the other. Stupid autonomous teenagers.
Which leaves us with only one alternative for preventing teen pregnancy: Never let them out of your damn sight. How hard is that?
Madhousewife is the new Sex Education Czar for the Obama administration.
Dedicated to Sugar Daddy because he’s my husband.
I stole this from my sister, bythelbs, because I’m all out of blogging ideas, and it’s Valentine’s Day weekend, so it’s festive and junk. Also, I steal from my sister every opportunity I get.
How long have you been together?
We’ll be married 12 years in May, but our first date was November 22, 1996. How do I remember? It was the thirty-third anniversary of JFK’s assassination. Duh.
How long did you know each other before you started dating?
I don’t rightly recall. I guess we met each other right before the school semester started, so that would have been September, so…whatever. Math is hard!
Who asked who out?
He asked me. But only because I had shamelessly flirted with him for several previous weeks.
How old are each of you?
I am 37. He is 33.
Whose siblings do/ did you see the most?
Mine, I guess, since they live a little closer, but we don’t see any of our siblings much.
Do you have any children together?
Four totally awesome and hellacious children!
What about pets?
No pets until everyone is potty-trained and someone besides me can be responsible for it.
Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
When the children are acting like jerks.
Did you go to the same school?
No.
Are you from the same home town?
No.
Who is the smartest?
He is. He married me, didn’t he? Hahahaha! Hahahahaha! Haaaa…. yeah.
Who is the most sensitive?
Probably him. Though I am far more diplomatic.
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
We like to try different places every time we go out, but the place we’ve probably eaten at most often is Lucy’s Table in downtown Portland.
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
Either Chicago or St. Louis. I don’t know which is farther. I could look it up, but I’m too lazy. We took the kids with us, though. If we’re talking about traveling alone together, the farthest would be Austin, Texas.
Who has the craziest ex’s?
I don’t think either of us has crazy ex’s. I have a loser ex, does that count?
Who has the worst temper?
He gets angry more often. I get the most intensely angry.
Who hogs the bed?
Girlfriend. (Our three-year-old. Not some sicko quasi-polygamist arrangement–though I’ll let you know if something like that develops.) On those very rare occasions that Girlfriend the Three-Year-Old is not sleeping with us, I suppose I hog the bed.
Who is more stubborn?
Definitely him. No, wait–DEFINITELY him.
Who is more jealous?
He is more jealous. He is jealous of my blog. He is jealous of my books. He is jealous of my good looks.
Who does the cooking?
I usually cook during the week, and he usually cooks on the weekends. He is a much better cook than I am.
Who is more social?
He is better at parties than I am. I am better at keeping in touch with people I (and/or we) know.
Who is the neat Freak?
Neither of us, though each of us is selectively freakish about certain neatness issues. I don’t like dirty socks on my kitchen table, for example. Or in my sink. No, he will never live that one down. Never never never.
Who wakes up earlier?
SD, by a mile. Not only does he get up earlier, but he is awake and has accomplished many things before I even have both of my eyes open, let alone turned on my brain.
Where was your first date?
We went to the movies. Looking for Richard, starring Al Pacino. I forget which theatre. Someplace in Beverly Hills, I think. He would know.
Who has the bigger family?
Me. I’m second of five and he’s first of three.
Do you get flowers often?
Always on Valentine’s Day, occasionally other times. I like flowers, but he knows I prefer chocolate, so that’s what he gives me most often.
How do you spend the holidays?
At home, hanging out and eating. We like to eat.
How long did it take to get serious?
Define “serious.” We were engaged eight weeks after our first date, so that’s pretty serious. I went on a date with another cat two weeks before we got engaged, so that’s not so serious. Hard to say.
Who does the laundry?
Usually I do. I’m the expert.
Who drives when you are together?
Him. He doesn’t like my driving. I don’t like him as a passenger.
Is your family still growing?
Only taller and fatter.
Happy Valentine’s Day, honey! You rock! \m/\m/
And happy Valentine’s Day to all y’all.
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How silently, how silently,The wondrous gift is giv’n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav’n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav’n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
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Merry Christmas, dear friends,
from your Gentle Giraffe
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I tried to put this in generic, hypothetical, theoretical form, but I can’t because I’m just so angry and crazy from keeping it inside for so long that I have to let it spew forth, so there, that is all the warning you’re getting.
My child-care provider, Gertrude, is a very fine person in many respects. She is generous. She loves children. She was an abused and abandoned child who grew up to be a loving person and a wonderful foster parent, though she has not been able to have children of her own. She is great with my kids. She is willing to babysit my kids, which is more than I can say for the teenagers I have paid good money to watch my kids. I feel really, seriously guilty about saying this, but she is really, seriously driving me nuts.
She talks too much. She talks about stuff she knows nothing about, but she talks like she knows everything about it. She makes comments about my kids that I don’t appreciate. I don’t mean that she insults them. I mean that she is constantly putting them in their respective neurotypical and special-needs category boxes. Her own foster son–who has lived with her for the last nine-and-a-half years, since he was a baby–has special needs, so she thinks she knows all about special-needs children. Heck, she herself might be a special-needs person, for all I know, but it still makes me crazy to hear all her comments about what my kids are and aren’t capable of, and to have her always comparing them. She loves my kids, so I know she doesn’t mean any harm, but it still makes me crazy.
She stays and talks for upwards of an hour or two after she is officially done watching my kids (meaning that I am home and she is no longer responsible for them). and it is extremely difficult to end a conversation with her. She sometimes has to bring her foster son with her to our house, which is fine–except when it’s not fine, when he’s acting up and driving me and/or my kids crazy and doing things that are unacceptable. Not that Gertrude tolerates or overlooks his unacceptable behavior, but you can’t control everything that kids do, and this kid is, O.M.G., a real piece of work when he gets started. I think that I’m very understanding of children who act up, considering what my own kids are capable of, and I’m not saying her kid is so much worse than mine (that would be rich)–just that he drives me a worse kind of crazy because I don’t love him like I love my own kids. I don’t love him at all, I’m sorry to say. No, that is not true. He can be a very sweet boy when he’s being a sweet boy, but other times HE IS IMPOSSIBLE. He talked all the way through Mister Bubby’s baptism service–for the love of Mike, he would not shut up, even when I and my brother- and sister-in-law each in turn told him to put a sock in it already. (WHY he was sitting right behind us and not with Gertrude and her husband, who were several rows back and couldn’t hear him, I don’t know–or maybe I answered my own question.) Later that evening my sister-in-law heard him make rude sexual remarks in front of MB and Princess Zurg–which may have gone over their heads–and now my SIL is concerned that I ever have him around my kids at all. But that’s getting off the subject. Today he was over here because Gertrude came over to get paid, and he dropped a chess set on our brand-new, seriously-just-bought-it-last-night-but-haven’t-hung-it-yet picture frame and took a chunk out of the wood. Not a huge chunk, probably not even noticeable to anyone but me (and probably my husband, when he finally goes to hang it up), and at least he didn’t break the glass (a Christmas miracle), but seriously, dude, WHY do you have to pick up my chess set at all? WHY do you have to mess with my crap? WHY do you have to dump everything on the floor as soon as you get here? If you were my kid, I would be yelling all these rhetorical questions at you, but you’re not my kid, and accidents happen and blah-blah-blah, I don’t care, you chipped my brand-new picture frame and every time I look at it I’m going to think of how much I don’t care for you and what a hypocrite meany-face that makes me.
Oh, and thank you for apologizing. But now I’m going to stop talking to you because you’re not reading this.
I actually didn’t want Gertrude to become my childcare provider because their family was already friends with us because Gertrude’s husband is SD’s home-teaching companion (Mormon thing, totally unable to explain in the middle of an angry rant), and I already knew that Gertrude drove me crazy, and I already felt guilty about not liking being around her. Now, as it happens, as a result of spending so much more time with her, I actually do like her–I DO like her. I appreciate her for all her good qualities. I do. So that has been a blessing. But she still makes me nuts! And her husband makes me nuts! And her kid makes me nuts! Even though they’re all children of God and deserve the most charitable feelings that my puny heart can muster, they are still driving me nuts and I have no idea what I want to give them for Christmas because I’m mad at them! And I’m sad because I’m a hypocrite and loving people you don’t really love is too hard for me today.
Is it too early to have PMS?
I feel bad about typing all this, but I had to. I had to I had to I had to because I had to. That’s all.
Anybody out there use self-adhesive laminating sheets? What’s your verdict? Totally awesome, adequate, or not worth the bother (or money)? Give it to me straight. I can take it.
The rest of you, have a good Monday. Well, technically, you can all have a good Monday. Those of you who leave me a helpful comment having to do with lamination can have an extra-good Monday, insofar as my good will can influence such. And it’s not like I’m going to curse you if you can’t help me with my laminating issues. I wouldn’t even know how to do that. I don’t even know how to laminate. (I know, what kind of Mormon girl am I, I don’t have my own laminating machine. I don’t own a sewing machine either. Or a wheat grinder. It’s a sorry state of affairs over here.) But you should all really have a good Monday, regardless.
Seriously, though–self-adhesive laminating: yea or nay?
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