“Crowley! Knock it off! If you want to go out, you’d better stand still! Hold it! Stop it!”
Good grief! It is 9:30 in the morning! How can it be seventeen thousand degrees out here?
So…what music do I want to hear? Why did I download Bread’s Greatest Hits? What was I thinking?
“That’s a good boy. C’mon, Buddy. You can’t sit down in the street. We’ll get hit by a car.”
“Sorry! Thanks for not hitting us with your car.”
Really? What kind of horrible manimal leaves a dirty diaper on the street?
“Crowley! Spit that out!”
Why does Chester have a giant picture of the cookie monster looking out of his living room window? No, better question; why doesn’t everyone have a giant cookie monster picture looking out their living room windows?
“Hold on Crowley, I need to pick that up.”
“Leave those birds alone. I’m sorry, buddy, they’re not trying to play with you. They’re being jerks.”
Wait, what is that? What the heck? Is that a…yeah, that’s a drone hanging off that mailbox. It’s new, and it looks like a nice one, too. What the what?
“You hear that dog barking at us?”
That has got to be the crankiest dog in North America. Can a dog actually be a butthead?
“C’mon Buddy, let’s go. What do you think? Should we do the whole walk?”
Ok, it’s a million degrees. Should we head home? If we cut it short, it’s tuna on lettuce for dinner. If we keep going, it’s blue box mac…
“C’mon, let’s keep going, we’ll have the whole walk knocked out in no time.”
“Really? Again? Hold on, I need to pick it up.”
Oh, cripes, I hope that darn dog isn’t out in the yard…
“Whoa! Crowley! Whoa! Crowley, I’m gonna…Whoa!”
I am going to have arms like Schwarzenegger. If he doesn’t kill me first.
“No, Buddy, they didn’t invite you to play just because their garage door is open. G’ morning! Sorry, he’s a puppy, and thinks everybody is his best friend, and everything belongs to him!”
What do those people do in there? Every time we go past, the garage door is half open and they’re sitting at a table working on something. Is it meth? I read you need lots of ventilation for meth. Are they decorating cupcakes? I hope they’re decorating cupcakes.
“Crowley, get up boy. C’mon, we’ve got to move. We’ll be home soon, and when we get there, you can lay on the cool tile in the fireplace.” If I don’t get there first, big boy.
“Morning! Boy, that yard is looking great! You’ve done so much work!”
Oh my gosh, that yard looks tortured into submission. There isn’t a weed on the planet brave enough to pop up in that yard! Cuh-razy eyes! That dude scares me. I’ll bet he’s got more than rakes and fertilizer in the basement. “It rubs the lotion on its skin…”
“Alright Buddy, we’re home! After dinner, we’ll do another full walk…’cause I’m having root beer and cookies for breakfast. Now move over! Mama needs some of that cool, cool tile.”
Starting in July, The topic of the column running on the last weekend of the month will be picked by you, gentle reader. Send your ideas (and any other comments you may have) to Momsequitur@gmail.com. I can’t wait to see the ideas that surface from your brain boxes
No topic is off limits except for these off limit topics: politics, religion, and boy bands of the 80’s.
Thanks for your time.
Since Halloween is coming I thought I’d give you, gentle reader, a voyage through one of the most spine-tingling, terrifying places that I know.
I especially loved going to garage sales and the library sale to snag those little cookbook magazines from the checkout line at the supermarket. The older the issue better, with a special interest in the Pillsbury Bake-Off editions.
To make for a dramatic, attractive presentation, I make it in a spring form pan. I layer it with flour tortillas which I dredge in a sauce. Between the tortillas I’d put a couple different Mexican ingredients.
After experimenting, I settled on filling. The center layer was 2 cups shredded rotisserie chicken mixed with ½ cup of store-bought queso, like what you eat with chips. The layers above and below the meat would be my deluxe homemade cantina-style rice.
Boo!
bull city mom 