The Hostess with the Mostest

Here’s a new trick—blogging from the front seat of the 300C. We’re on the way to NL for the weekend and just passed Worms. Which is a funny name for a city but still sounds more appetizing than the beige dirt-encrusted salad I just tried to choke down at Burger King.

M brought a couple more new colleagues home for dinner yesterday. And, determined not to reenact the flashing incident I’ve officially removed gazpacho from my repertoire.

As usual we hit a time crunch just before ETA-- I got sucked into that black hole that strikes when one is taking care of dogs and small children.

I’d just finished vacuuming when D came in, exhaled and expelled a few dozen hairballs out onto the floor. Threw her and the boys outside and went back to making pesto.

Got about five minutes further when I heard screams and gagging noises from the yard. B had apparently driven his Flintstones car through a steaming pile of fresh dog poop and then continued across the porch leaving a fragrant trail behind him.

Cleanup was long and complicated. Left me wishing desperately for a one-way ticket to Hawaii a pair of tongs and a pressure hose.

We ended up eating takeout pizza.

We’ll be entertaining a new set of colleagues next week. What’s that saying about “third time’s the charm”? That or “bad luck comes in threes”….