Weekend Number 1

Where oh where have my girlie girls gone!  You can come back now!

It seems that I have been left without the comfort of women-folk for the weekend.  Every once in a while I feel like calling out for them...I mean my breakfast isn't going to make itself!  ***DISCLAIMER*** Those of you who know me personally know that that last 'breakfast' statement was purely a joke.  I just felt like I could get away with it since Sylvia and Kristiana are having a girly weekend away.  Besides, I'm more of a "It's 5 o'clock darnit!  Where's my dinner?!" sort of guy.  ***DISC...you get the idea.

Sylvia did indeed take Kristiana away for the weekend to have a Mommy/Daughter make-up, pluck, soak,  facial, massage, mani, pedi, extravaganza!  I'm going to take Jake out for a father/son weekend in a few months.  I do not think the agenda will be similar.  We may just have to shoot something.  Arr arr arr...But I digress...

When Fudge, the most reliable alarm-dog on Earth, got me up this morning at 5:00 on the dot I decided to stay up and do a little work around the house.  So here I sit, writing.  Actually, at the risk of alienating my male readers, I am finally taking a break after working through the beginnings of a mental list that I wanted to get through this weekend.  I've fixed two sticky drawers, put away cartons that made it to the garage but never got up, stored the snow clothes, did the dishes, and cleaned out the refrigerator.  (I had to...nobody was here to make me breakfast) 

I want to know, is it just us or does everyone have something sitting in the back of the fridge that can only be identified as, 'some sort of food'?  We have leftovers, I take them for lunch most days.  We have foods that were bought with the best of intentions, since they are good for you.  And we have the container that somehow slides past all the usable, high traffic food, and sits in the back, lurking.  The only time you notice it is when the refrigerator light burns out and you notice an eerie glow in the back.  Since this is a family and not a frat house there are no dares of "You Eat It!" so I took it upon myself to eradicate the offending article.  Because I am trying very hard to be a socially responsible citizen I dumped it in the green waste container.  (Actually, I am terribly cheap and we don't pay for that waste)  I'm not certain but I think I heard a low growl when I put it out.  We'll see if they quarrantine our street on garbage day.  White vans, toxic avenger suited people, frat guys...those will be my clues that something is up. 

I have no idea what made me decide to tackle this less than pleasant job this morning.  I suspect it has something to do with those subliminal tapes I got.  I'm not losing any weight but I have the desire to mop the floors before Jake recovers from his ice cream and action movie induced coma..  I'll have to check see if they labled the cds correctly.

My goal is to have Sylvia walk in and have her mouth drop open in pleasant surprise...while still doing guy stuff with Jake.  Having a dog that wakes you early is sure a big help.  It would be terrible if she came in and said, "Yup the house is great.  Why is your son crying."  So I hope to have a good mix of the two.  We'll see if she likes it.

I hear rumbling from the pre-teen section of the house.  I should go see if Jake is up...and what he's going to make me for breakfast.

This is an interesting season for us.  We will have three weeks in a row where people are gone from the house.  Sylvia next weekend and Kristiana the week after that.  I don't know why everyone keeps leaving me alone...I mean, I shower regularly.