I'm all set, thanks.

I love meeting people who are different than me. I love different backgrounds and opinions, especially when the people holding them can hold a decent conversation. I just learn so much.

But there are a few things that I stand firm on. There are not many but I will state them here for the record.

1. Parenting techniques do and should vary. I'm glad that your potty training methods worked for you so quickly. But thinking that they will work for everyone else just as easily is just plain misguided.
2. The sex offender registry is a waste of time and money.
3. Jo should have married Laurie in "Little Women." I don't know what kind of joke Louisa May Alcott was playing when she had Jo turn him down (and don't get me started on him then marrying Jo's sister) but I ain't having it. I am even more convinced that she wrote it wrong since I saw Christian Bale play Laurie in the 90's film version.

And that's about it.

He's home.

And I've been remiss in posting. But I'm sure you can understand. It's so much fun to see him get reacquainted with Munchkin. And yeah, I'll admit I'm also glad to see him.

Of course, now the clock is ticking. How long before he messes up my routine and starts to annoy the crap out of me?

Disaster area.

Make no bones about it, my house is currently a complete and total mess. But with CPT Dick returning from the field in less than a week, I just can't bring myself to clean it yet.

I mean, if I do clean it now, Munchkin will surely undo all of my efforts in the next 6 days. No question, really. It would just be silly to start. Sure, I could file away the mail. Or pack away all of those too-small clothes that I took out of Munchkin's closet. But then he wouldn't have that great pile of sweaters to jump on. It would be cruel to even think about doing it just yet. And, yeah, I'm sure it would be hygienic to get to those dishes. But we have plenty of clean plates in the cupboard. Where's the rush?

It just makes so much more sense to hang out tonight, maybe watch "Clueless" for the forty-sixth time and drink a few glasses of wine.

The clutter will keep. Right?

My girl crush.

Okay, so I'm loving Mandy Moore's cover of "Umbrella." But honestly, I think she could sing anything and I'd be swaying and holding up a lighter. She is just so damn likable.

Bye, bye, Karl.

Wish I could say I was going to miss you.

I am seriously curious to what the next year of the Presidency might hold without you, though. Will things change much without Rove around? Maybe his influence was exaggerated.

Only time will tell.

Can you hear me?

The boy can hear. He handled the test like a pro and has hearing well within the range of normal. Apparently, when we think he is not hearing us, he's just choosing not to do so. Oh yeah. My kid, right there.

And so, back to the Developmental Nazis for another evaluation.

Dog bites boy.

There was a coffee the other night. I didn't really want to go but figured that I might as well for appearance's sake. I can always start getting lazy later in the year. But I'm not stupid. I also opted to take Munchkin with me so that I could use him as an excuse to make an early getaway if needed.

But maybe I shouldn't have briefed him on that plan.

The hostess has the sweetest dog ever. A mutt of such wondrous temperament that my kid was all over him and he didn't say boo. I'm guessing he decided that he was willing to exchange his patience for the Fritos my son so magnaminously continued to feed him.

And all was well, and very, very cute, until we got down to the last Frito on Munchkin's plate.

Munchkin was going to feed it, just like most of the others, to the dog. But then the boy realized that it was the last and final Frito. So at the last minute, just at the moment that he would have let go of the Frito for the dog to swallow, my son changed his mind. He held on to the Frito. He was still holding it when the other kids yelled for me to come running because he was bleeding.

The dog didn't mean to bite him. He meant to partake of the Frito-y goodness. A boy's small finger just happened to get in the way.

So, to the ER we went. And though I got to leave the party early, we didn't get out of the ER before midnight. And so it goes.

Munchkin is fine. He was fine by the time we got to the hospital. Sure, he'll lose the fingernail, most likely, and have to drink copious amounts of Augmentin for the next few days, but he's back to his wild man self.

The worst part, seriously, is all of the phone calls I'm getting today from concerned ladies. You'd have thought that my son was dragged off by a wild bear. I just want to get the boy down for a nap, you know, because he's exhausted from the poking and prodding, and the phone won't stop ringing.

Dog bites boy. Guess we all need some excitement now and again.

Even more appropriate.

A friend, seeing my 5 things post, forwarded me what she thought was a more appropriate survey for my tiny, Grinch-like heart: the top 3 meanest things you've ever done or said.

And worse, you are supposed to say if you'd do it again. What fun!

I figured I'd take it on because quite often you can learn more about a person from their vices than their virtues. And so, though I'm sure there are plenty of mean things that I've said and done in this little life of mine, here are the three that spring immediately to my mind.

1. On several occasions, in anger and haste, I've told my sister she was stupid. I've regretted each and every time I've said this. And yet, since it's my sister and we have all those innate ways of pushing each other's buttons, I imagine I will say it again in the future.

   
   

2. I once told an ex-boyfriend that the reason that I broke up with him was because his penis was too small. To provide the appropriate context, we were one of those couples that came together from a large group of mutual friends. We didn't date long and I thought that it was more a matter of convenience than anything else.
   
   Given that we knew so many of the same people, once I had broken things off, we still saw each other frequently at group outings -- usually 2-3 times a week. And so, every time I saw him, he'd try to pull me aside and ask me why we couldn't work things out. He even begged once. It was awful. But since we knew so many of the same people, unless I wanted to find a whole new group of friends, it was nearly impossible to avoid him.
   
   About three weeks after I had thrown the axe (and after about 15 instances where I tried to nicely justify my decision), we were at a party where a lot of alcohol was consumed. So much so that most of us were going to stay the night rather than brave the roads. Once I had situated myself on my assigned couch, the ex-boyfriend laid seige and started again on the whole "what can I do to make this work" crap. I was exhausted and really didn't want to go through it all again so I said the first thing that popped into my mind. "The real reason is that your penis is just too small and I can't see myself pursuing a relationship that doesn't have a chance of being sexually satisfying." He immediately got up and went away. He never asked me about continuing the relationship again.
   
   Would I do it again? I'd like to say no because I ran into this guy right after I married and he said my comment still stung after nearly 8 years. CPT Dick says that he could well imagine such a slight could haunt a man to the grave -- especially when issued in public. But the truth of the matter is, I think it was the only way I was going to get him to give up his ill-advised post-break-up pursuit.
   
   
3. After Munchkin was born, CPT Dick and I had one of those completely boring and predictable arguments that new parents have. One of those you-don't-appreciate-how-much-I-do, fueled with sleep deprivation and self-righteousness. In the course of that fight, I told my husband that he was useless as a father. Worse, I said it in front of Munchkin. Granted, Munchkin was 3 months old and asleep at the time, but it was still totally uncalled for. I apologized pretty much right there and then but I sitll cringe when I think about it. I work damn hard to make sure that nothing similar escapes from my lips again.

5 things about me.

My friend, R, tagged me to do 5 things about me on another social networking site. Thus far, I've avoided it. People know me too well already in real life. They don't need to hear the wacko details. But to do it anonymously? Why not!

And so, my 5 things. Feel free to post yours in the comments.

1. I sometimes have the weirdest thoughts occur to me while driving. The current one is questioning how many of my personal idiosyncrasies stem from the fact that I considered Miss Piggy a role model when I was younger. Others have included what it would look like to put mascara on my husband and what kind of looks I'd get if I brought Bill O'Reilly as my date to my high school reunion.
2. I'm a superfast reader. This was a huge boon in college. But I mostly use my talent for pleasure reading. Before my son was born, I usually read 2-3 books a week. These days, I get in about one a week.
3. I have written my own novel and am shopping it around now. I have a second in the works and plan to finish it while CPT Dick is away.
4. I own a Chanel suit. I bought it at a consignment shop, and even though it was sold at a significant discount, it was still incredibly dear. I cringe whenever I think how much it cost but feel better when I put it on. It fits me perfectly, even after the post-baby body shifting.
5. I have traveled to over 40 countries. When my husband and I travel, we usually buy a piece of street art as a memento. This has resulted in a ton of unframed pieces sitting on a shelf in the office waiting for me to get around to framing them. Which I probably won't, because we don't have the wallspace anyway. Still, we keep buying.

Uh, yeah, duh.

Democrats say leaving Iraq may take years.

I know this. The Republicans know this. The Democrats know this. Most people, who stop to consider the logistics of moving that many men and equipment out while still providing support to the fledgling Iraqi government, know this.

So why can't my mother-in-law understand it? Seriously?