House Hunters.

We’re going to be on the HGTV show House Hunters! HOW do these things happen?!!
Simple “How to” list:
1. Email the producer. Describe our musical family and throw in a few jokes as well.
2. Answer the producer’s phone calls: be funny, witty, and try not to gush.
3. Prepare and enter our own home video: complete with children, jumpolines and a Top 10 List.
4. Answer the producer’s phone calls: Be funny, witty and try to sound as if producers call us all the time.
5. Sign a release form. Develop a meaningful relationship with the fax machine.

And after that? Well, we’ll let you know! They’ll be here on Wednesday to begin filming!

T-minus 12 and counting.

meltdown.

it was bound to happen. hard drive meltdown.

failure.

crash.

we use such terminal words to refer to this technology. very real, human words applied to this beloved family member of mine.

even in repairing it, mr. mr. referred to 'saving it'.

hope for a resurrection

transplant.

the most interesting part of it all is how nonplussed i was by the whole event.

my computer. my data. my work.

and mr. mr. more consumed with the failure than i.

i like him a lot.

Roasting of the Peeps.

That's right. Our Easter tradition now includes the Ceremonial Roasting of the Peeps.

Yes, we take those sweet little yellow sugar coated marshmallow treats, put on the end of a stick and stick them in the fire. But the cool thing is how the sugar caramelizes on the outside. Then smushed between a couple Keebler Striped Cookies and you have got a refined sugar buzz that should last until next Easter. (As long as the head doesn't fall off in the fire.)

It seems as if I should make some sort of profound analogy. Something about our delicate lives, thrust in the fire, returning even sweeter.

But honestly, nothing spiritual about this moment.

Just melting birds, dental decay and a lot of fun around the fire.

remote.

i sit down on the sofa. it is a moment i have waited over 13 hours for. the moment that comes a few nights a week when smaller versions of myself are in bed and i am on the sofa waiting for mr. mr. to sit down.

sometimes i turn on the tv. then sometimes i read. sometimes i compute. 

if i turn on the tv it goes to an innocuous sitcom, hgtv or maybe the news. but really, i'm all about waiting for the sofa and the man.

but then it happens.

i glance away, i ponder the arrangement of the candles on the table, or consider taking off my shoes. and in that blink the tv goes bad.

i mean really bad.

mr. mr. has remotely changed my comedy for something with aliens. or spies. or alien spies. one minute it's kelsey grammar, the next it's a 4 headed green thing with one eye and a desperate need for a 12 step program for anger management.

this choice of his is not bad. not good. not frustrating. not surprising.

it is consistent.

some nights the sum total of our differences boils down to steve carell vs. richard dreyfus. 

i can live with that.

it's a contest.

did you read the story about my mom and her cell phone? 

well, we have a New Winner in the category of, "Playing Tricks on Myself with my Cell Phone".

a couple days ago a friend, whom we will refer to as Shania (hey, if' I'm going to rename her, I'm going BIG), Shania called me.

Shania was driving to the cellular provider of her choice in order to have her Sim card switched over to a new phone. As she's talking to me, I hear her panic. She says, "Oh great. Where's my old cell phone? I have to have it to switch the information...." 

Long pause.

Do you see where this is going?

Yep. Shania realizes she is talking to me. On her old cell phone. While looking all around her front seat. For her old cell phone. Which is in her hand.

Who needs friends to play practical jokes on you when you can play them on yourself?