SaTWITTERday

Reviewing the week's Twitters makes it a bit more evident that I have issues.



And that was a most excellent play by the awesome third baseman. Who just happens to be my son. Wooot!!

Trying to catch this thing that has just been thrown at me.

I don't think golfers should wear white pants. Or use those extra long putters that go all the way up to their stomach.

Ri. Dic. U. Lous.

Never went back to sleep after The Boy ran through the house at 3am screaming about a wolf.

I am certain his nightmare is related to the fact he is playing The Big Bad Wolf in the class's Three Piggy Opera this week.

Stuck at a red light by the longest train in the northern hemisphere.

Today is apparently Skinny Woman Go To Target Day. I'm surprised they let me in.

Went to the garage to get the hammer. There were two turkey feet on the work bench from the Captain's hunt last week. Skeered me.

Dead baby bird in front yard. I just gave him a proper burial in a pizza box.

And the previous tweet about hammers and turkey feet has nothing to do with the other tweet about dead birds in pizza boxes.

BIG SPIDER IN THE KITCHEN!! BIG SPIDER IN THE KITCHEN!!

Let's see....I think it was Colonel Mustard in the Conservatory with the lead pipe.

Lolly, Lolly, Lolly get your adverbs here.

It's the day of the 2nd grade's production of the Three Piggy Opera. And the Big Bad Wolf has woken up with a case of the nerves.

Saw a story on the news last night. They interviewed a man named Cornbread. Yes. Cornbread.

One very Big Proud Mama of one very Big Bad Wolf.

Yes that was me who just set off my car alarm in the grocery store parking lot.

Last night, I had a tick crawl across my arm during dinner. And I learned how to play cribbage. The excitement never ends.

The Boy has asked for an oatmeal creme pie for breakfast. Should that be accepted because it's oatmeal or denied because it's pie?

Not sure if I should be proud or embarrassed that I just sang all the words to "Rubberband Man".