Nope. Not Ralph Nader. Just ralph. As in puke. As in vomitrocious. As in the stomach bug that hit the P family. I won't gross you out with the details, but S picked it up from my wonderful brother last weekend while we were away, and she gave it to me and M in turn. She spent most of Monday puking on us, but she was fine in 24 hours, as was I yesterday. I suspect M will be back to normal around 8pm. I will tell you that S's enormous breakfast puke on Monday smelled like a smoothie as the kid had eaten a banana and a couple of handfuls of blueberries and strawberries. Gross observation, I know. It was pleasant, though, as far as puke goes.
Moving on. Vomit just isn't as interesting as it was in third grade.
Welcome back to the blogosphere, L. I wholeheartedly await your wittiness on a regular basis.
Oh, I have a new favorite thing. White Vinegar in the washing machine. We've been using dryer balls in lieu of any type of fabric softener for several months now. The clothes from the dryer were coming out a smidgen too staticky, and the clothes from the drying rack were too stiff. Enter white vinegar. Our clothes are now softer, less staticky, and I don't feel the need to beat the clothes from the drying rack with a stick to make them soft enough to wear. I highly recommend it. Here's a link...
Lastly, the Ps are heading to Memphis tomorrow for a wedding. It's a quick trip, but it will be nice. S hasn't really met any of our Memphis "family," so we're looking forward to the shocked looks we'll get when people realize how friggin' huge she is. We're going to take her to the zoo Sunday morning before we head home, so she can see the polar bears. Really, M and I just love the polar bears. Hopefully, S will be entertained.
Alright, I can hear Otis gnawing on something in the other room. I'm out. Have a great weekend, peeps. Oh, but what the crap is going on at Wimbledon? I mean, on the men's side nobody really cares about the upsets. Everybody knows it's going to be Federer/Nadal again. But, ladies, come on. If I have to see a Williams sister in the finals (or, God forbid, both Williams sisters), I may have to boycott next year's tournament. Now I really am out.