...and it was at that time she realized she was a very dull girl indeed.

Ah.
I’ve been bitten by the blog bug again. I’m not sure what happened or when it happened, but it did and I’m glad.

This morning has gotten off to a sort of pitiful start. Just the sort of morning I love.
Fletcher pooped on the floor this morning somewhere between his kennel and the backyard. Sad, isn’t it? After eight hours sleeping in a kennel, he couldn’t hold it another second. Although his incontinence may have something to do with the fact that DG lets the pups out of their kennel and gets them all riled up. Meanwhile, I’m standing in front of the mirror fixing my hair saying, “Don’t be surprised when one of them has an accident. Don’t you realize they’ve been in a kennel for eight hours?!”
Right again.
Speaking of me always being right, on Sunday I told Daniel that “a prudent man would have thought to bring an umbrella.” We got caught in the pouring rain and his excuse for not bringing an umbrella was, “it was only sprinkling when we left the house!”
Then I threw out my “a prudent man…” line and he told me, “I don’t think you’re using that term correctly.”
“Excuse me?” I asked him, “You are questioning my word usage? Do you not know whose daughter I am?? Are you sure you want to do this?”
Unfortunately for Daniel, he isn’t genetically wired to back down from a fight—even when it would behoove him to do so.
So I whipped out my phone and logged onto Dictionary.com.
Prudent: adjective; careful in providing for the future; provident: a prudent decision.
I don’t think he learned his lesson. In fact, I think he was only defending himself because I hurt his feelings by saying he wasn’t prudent.
That’s kind of sad…

Where was I?
A pitiful morning. I stole a Dr. Pepper. Literally. I stole it (but not from a store…just from a person. I’m not that depraved. Well…). And I’m blogging.

So, I’ve gotten to a place with my new(ish) friend Amy B. We’ve started the nickname thing, which is always fun and means you will be best friends forever. At least, with me it does because it takes a special person to give me a nickname that sticks. And I’ve always wanted a nickname. My high school nickname “Meat” was simply awful—although associated with fond memories. But I am not the sort of person that you would feel comfortable nicknaming “Meat.” I would make sure of that.
But I digress.
I call Amy B. “A.G.O.B.” Those are her initials (including maiden-name). She simply calls me KG, which I like. And other people have started to catch on. I know, I know. It is both lame and weird that I get excited about these things, but I can’t help it. I’m half of a middle child and it makes me feel special and wanted, even though I’m not as smart as my older brother. What? Who said that?
I also think it’s “cute” that we call our husbands DG and JB. It makes one feel as if one is a close friend of another friend, even though one might not be.
But really, we are best friends.

Perhaps I should get to work.

Take is easy.

P.S. Incontinence: adjective; unable to restrain natural discharges or evacuations of urine or feces.
Ew! Ha ha!
I'm four.