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I took Small Child to her Brownie meeting (the second youngest group in Girl Scouts/Guides here; I don't know if they have the same name everywhere). Part of the meeting was outside, which I did not expect, so I didn't use bug spray. I have at least five mosquito bites. I've already taken two benadryl orally and used cortisone topically. The bennies are getting to me; if random letters start showing up, I've probably done a face plant on the keyboard.

But I have two good moments from today to keep me happy.

At the Brownie meeting, the girls tried to plan dinner for an upcoming overnight camp-out. They all raised hands. They made weird suggestions for Food to Make at Camp. I saw my Small Child had her hand raised, and I sat, smiling serenely, secure in the knowledge that My Girl would have something useful to say.

BROWNIE TROOP LEADER: [Small Child?]
SMALL CHILD: Be bim bop!
ALL THE OTHER GIRL SCOUTS AND MOST OTHER MOMS: ?
SMALL CHILD: It's got egg, and rice....
ME: It's Korean, and I don't think it's good for camping.


My other moment came at lunchtime. I called home to say hi to Brilliant Husband. I ran through a list of all our commitments for tomorrow and who was going to be where when and how day was all going to work.
BH: Yeah.
ME: But tomorrow night, you and I are watching Torchwood!
BH: I love it when you talk dirty to me.

Did you know that styrofoam is a hazardous material? Neither did we! ( Styrofoam! )

It's beginning to look a lot like . . . spring? ( Sports and weather )

Happy New Year to everyone!

Happy Feast of All Saints! Happy Samhain! (Where the heck did October go? And, come to that, September?)

I was going to put down my favorite lines from last night's Pushing Daisies, but that would end up being most of a transcript. I just have to say:
"Hello, money?", and then of course all that follows, including the moment where he shushes them--and they immediately shut up, though he's talking on an imaginary cell phone to his money.
( potential spoiler )

And now for our own moment of comedy (squeamish beware):

We live in Florida. After I had my husband take out one of the bigger roaches last night (I'll get the little ones, and I get lots of them, but I really loathe doing the ones that crunch when you kill them; I'll do the bigger ones only when I must), he told me about a little conversation he had with the Small Child between houses while she was trick-or-treating:

"Daddy, tomorrow in my lunch, do you think you can send one apple, four carrots, and no cockroaches?"
Daddy fumbled for a moment but agreed to try. "So there was a cockroach in your lunchbox?"
"Yes. And I didn't eat my apple because I was afraid it might have cockroach poop on it."
At that point, they were approaching another house, and she said the next line and ran up to the door. He wasn't sure he heard it right, and he really didn't want to ask, but he thinks she said: "So I traded my apple for some cheese."

No, we don't want to know who ate the apple.