It Could Have Been a Normal Day If It Weren't For That Apron Episode

Today I was bitten by the Martha Stewart bug. It was kinda weird.

I baked bread. From scratch, even. Then I ate it. And people? It was good. I need to do this way more often. I used to bake bread on a fairly regular basis, and the kids absolutely loved to have their own pinch of bread to play with. Apparently Becky didn't remember any of this I'm Really A Good Mom bit because she poked the rising loaf only to declare, "I deflated your bread." She's lucky that it was ready to be punched down anyway.

I broke out the Christmas Crap. I lost track of the tree count sometime after 5. I would think things were a bit out of control if I didn't know deep down in my heart that one can't have too many trees. I have two plugged in already and one in the middle of the living room floor with the Toy Story gang helping to make it beautimas.



I cleaned. Because one can't start decorating when there is dog hair prevalent. And when one decorates for Christmas, dog hair must be removed from under couches and behind all furniture. The house was beautifully hairless for 15 seconds, and then a dog shed.

I salvaged my very favoritest clock ever thanks to my Twitter peeps. Said clock just won't keep time, and I changed batteries several times. I lurve clocks a whole lot, and couldn't bring myself to toss this one, so I craftified it because that's what Twitter said to do. I then had to rearrange some pictures to make room for it. But that wasn't enough, so I completely re-decorated the dining room walls.



I one-upped Martha though. As I was baking bread, Sam came in and said he needed my help outside. I stepped outside still wearing my apron (baking bread is messy) and was handed a gun. Apparently the rats have gotten to be so bad that they've even drawn the attention of the husband. He proposed flooding the hole and I would shoot whatever came out the other end. It was awesome. For the people driving up and down the road. Rest assured that no rats were harmed in the process. Unfortunately.

I'd love to see Martha Stewart wielding a gun while wearing an apron. I'd also love this apron:

Micah looked at all the boxes of Christmas Crap and chose the one he wanted. There are roughly 12,348,195 boxes and he didn't even look into any. But he knew. It's instinctive. I had to open it for him.



That's my boy.