Super Fat Tuesday

I suggested to Curly that we have Chipotle tonight in honor of Fat Tuesday. I hope he takes it for what it was -- a demand request thinly and passive aggressively veiled in a suggestion.

Last night, we tackled the ants that have been plaguing our kitchen. We think we found the source -- a wet mess under the sink. Our spray wand has a little leak. We cleaned and sanitized and sprayed with pesticide. I saw one ant today and all I could think was the movie "I Am Legend."

This morning, Gracie came in from her morning business outside and started her laps around the dining room. I noticed in the kitchen some little spots of blood and wondered if I had cut my foot. 'Twas not my foot that was cut, but Gracie's. She had ripped her toenail off, exposing the sensative vein underneath. It took some time to get the bleeding under control, and now it is wrapped in attractive gauze. Mini-me danced near her shortly after the incident, and Gracie looked away as if to say: "You mock my pain."

On the way to ballet, Mini-me tripped and fell. She told everyone that she broke her hands and her leg. She danced her way into ballet, but halfway through the class, she just lost it and refused to tap tap tap her toes, opting instead to stand in front of the long mirror and cry. The teacher came out to get me, but unfortunately, I was in a class with Patch. When I came back, Mini-me ran out to me and announced: "I am having a tough time." Indeed. On the way home, she tripped again, even though she was trying to be careful. Now she is sitting in her underwear* watching TV.

The only one who can save us from ourselves on this Super Fat Tuesday is Mitt. If he takes a few states from the liberal in conservative's clothing, all the pain and anguish will be worthwhile.

*Because sitting in her underwear helps her feel better.