I scent a trilogy.

Speaking of viciously earnest and poorly realized frames (and we were), this may be my new favorite. For now. As you can see (kinda), the photograph is of a sunset. And the caption? Three words shoved together, almost like a sentence. Family friends forever. Now don't get me wrong. I love family, friends and eternity, but this seems to state that family friends ARE forever. Like your "Uncle Dennis" that knew your Dad in grade school? Uncle Denny FOREVER! Whoo hoo!

I would like to work for this company. Apparently you don't need an exceptional grasp of sentence structure or spatial relations. Just take words you like and slap them on a frame in any ol' order, with a photograph you also like- they don't even need to be of jiving themes! I could so do this.

In other news, I saw a lawn sprinkler that was hidden behind an L-shaped bush and a sign marking a driveway near North and Clybourn today. It wouldn't have been so bad if it had stayed in the general area of the lawn it was supposed to be watering, but instead it flew in an arc to the street. You know, over the sidewalk. SO. I saw a lady with a stroller get soaked full in the face when it made its return arc- don't look at me like that, Mom, I didn't lie in WAIT for her! I happened to discover it at the same time she did! Just...ten feet further back. The toddler laughed anyhow. It was totally cool.

But then...an Ipod-bedecked businessman (Good name for a band. No, wait, that's a terrible name for a band) turned the corner. I waved to him, so help me God I did, and that wave contained the knowledge of the impending gush of water and the embarrassment that would ensue if he went to work looking like he had peed his pants. Or had neck sweat. And what did he do? He waved back. And took it in the face.

"Thought you were waving hi," he sputtered.
"Nope," said I.
"That's just what it looked like," he said.
"Yeah," I said. "But I wasn't."
"Hah, I know."
"Hah."

We laughed, but sadly, I laughed harder than I ought've. I know.

I'm actually employing subliminal messaging RIGHT NOW.

I am not proud of this, let me just start off by saying that.

Last night around 10pm, P.J. and I were idly flipping through channels. It was ungodly hot in the apartment and nothing could keep our attention- not George Carlin, not some documentary on binge drinking (okay, it was The Soup), nothing. Until...a commercial for a Big Mac came on. We sat, wide-eyed and alert until it ended, then at the exact same moment said, "We should get a Big Mac." Now, this is bizarre for many reasons. Among them- a) We never eat at McDonalds, b) certainly not late at night, c) I'm on a variation of the South Beach diet (which, up until last night was going VERY well, thank you), and d) it's a BIG MAC on TELEVISION.

So, of course, we hopped on our bikes and rode to the nearest Mickey D's (first we went online to see if the one closest to us had late-night hours...this was the extent of our insanity- we LOOKED UP AND CALLED McDONALDS.) There was something rather nice about biking at night with the hot breeze and waning traffic. I felt eight. Anyhow, we rode there saying stuff like, "I hope it's not just the drive-thru!" AND IT WASN'T.

We headed back home (which proved trickier, as I am remarkably unadept at biking one-handed, especially if the other hand is gripping a cup covered in condensation. I spilled a good third of it but I didn't let it stop me. Actually, that's not true. I stopped a few times to readjust and it would have been quicker to walk.)

We ate the incredibly fattening and carby meal in our backyard (which was lovely with the breeze and tangled lilies and freshly mowed lawn) and talked about subliminal messages. We feel like we've been duped, or at the very least COERCED. And if it hadn't been so delicious I may have made a formal complaint. I settled for a formal thumbs-up. It was so good.

Speaking of Big Macs, where does that third piece of bread come from? It doesn't look like the top or bottom piece, and it's too thick to just be extra bun. Are all buns that thick that they need a third piece to be sliced off? If so, are all the middles just going into the Big Mac pile? Should I get some money back for lack of bread?

On a completely unrelated but also a bit addictive note, I got a Roomba this weekend. I named him WALLLEEEEE (I haven't seen Wall-E yet, but I'm just sure I'll love it. How could I not? Have you seen his eyes? They're binoculars, for crying out loud) and he is the best thing to ever happen to our apartment. I failed at letting him charge for the full sixteen hours (PJ in the next room: Are you taking him off the charger? Keely: Nooo....) because I simply couldn't wait.

He started off in a spiraling pattern, scanning the room for boundaries, objects, and different brushes he'll need (I kid you not). Within moments he had cleaned under the couch (which I guarantee had not been disturbed since we moved in two years ago) and popped a wheelie to get the sides of the cat scratcher. Another highlight was when he batted the area rug up (he had already vacuumed the top) in order to clean UNDER it. Are you calling me out, Wallee? Fine, you got me. I never lift the rug. (But now I don't have to.) The cats hate him, but you know what? Life's hard sometimes. And I crave clean floors.

Do you realize that I live IN THE FUTURE? I Skype with my family in Italy, Boston and all points East while my robot cleans my floors, leaving me plenty of time to be convinced by the television that it's time to eat. Big Brother nothin', I'm stoked. And a little hungry again.

Just like the Jim Croce song!

Today my 3.5 year old informed me that we couldn't play in the backyard because it was being "turtle-ized." What? TURTLEized. Sound it out- do you know what he meant?*

Ooh, this sounds like an Encyclopedia Brown chapter. I used to love those. Remember the suspenseful last sentence of each story? "Encyclopedia knew that she was lying. There was no way she could have made it across the backyard in her boots- WHAT GAVE IT AWAY?"

I loved the one where Leroy "Encyclopedia" Brown knew that the girl from down the block was snooping in his house; she tried to lie and say she was looking up a word in his dictionary. WHAT GAVE IT AWAY? Why, she said she was searching for the past tense of the word "missile" and found that it was "misled." Missile is a noun! Misled is NOT the past tense of missile, although it was a cleverly ironic word to blurt out.

Another keeper is the one where a girl pretends to be upset about a crime (that I cannot for the life of me recall- it was probably pretty awful) to clear herself of any suspicion. She cried to Encyclopedia and begged him for help. HOW COULD HE TELL SHE WAS A ROTTEN LIAR? (They never used that phrase, I'm pretty sure.) She had two tears running down her face, from the outside corners of her eyes. Tear ducts are in the inner corners, she must have used an eye dropper, Encyclopedia stated as the cops led her away. (Not really.) I always had a slight issue with this one as I've seen tears (on myself and others) that have flown from all directions away from the eye. I'm not saying we're a bunch of Charlie Brown criers, what with tears rainbowing up and out from a thrown back head or anything, but it's possible to utilize the full eye. Just saying. She may have been framed.

One that I did NOT like was the one with the wayward hitchhiker whom Encyclopedia and a pal asked for help in finding the pal's lost duck. The hitchhiker hadn't seen the pet but invited them to stay for the chicken that he had roasted over a campfire. Encyclopedia led his friend away quickly as he had seen something no one should ever have to see- WHAT HAD THE UNRELENTINGLY CREEPY MAN LET SLIP? The hitchhiker invited them to stay for chicken, but Encyclopedia only saw dark meat roasting. Like from a duck. I am still bothered by this. How long had the duck been missing? Long enough for someone to make a campfire, get it to a suitable heat, find a duck, kill a duck and get rid of any evidence that might look like a duck had been around? And where the heck did this all go down, a nearby forest preserve?

Bothered, I tell you.

*Fertilized. But you probably figured that out by the time I said "Encyclopedia Brown," didn't you? Unless you're like a ten-year old me who was always too afraid to flip to the back to read the answers. You know, in case something jumps out at you with a knife or an angry turn of phrase. (I was a sensitive youth, right Mom?)

Demitasse cups, mythical beasts and utter pain.

Last night we walked around the neighborhood on a "Let's Try Not to Binge Tonight" night. We started out walking a block and a half from our apartment to Que Rico [!] and succeeded in not getting nachos and margaritas on the patio. Took a left onto Roscoe and valiantly did not order any Turkish appetizers at Turquoise (although it's a minor personal coup that the nice German-Irish boy I live with has added "Let's just get some lamajoon for dinner" into his vernacular.) Walked past Victory's Banner (that was easy, as it was closed since 3pm. But oh my gosh, strawberry shortcake pancakes) as well as Kaze (best spicy tuna roll and a carrot king crab demitasse cup thing that will make a man weep- I've seen it) and down past Mario and Gino's for NO coconut gelato, right by Orange and Kitsch'n for late night brunch and cleverly named entrees that I would not be partaking in. Around this point we ran into a couple of friends who were on their way to Robey's pizza- we walked them there and CONTINUED on our way. (At this point I could have eaten the grass poking through the sidewalk but we persevered.) As we made our way home we rewarded ourselves on our willpower by ogling homes for sale entirely out of our price range. This leads me to believe that not only are there too many restaurants in Roscoe Village, but they're abutted by entirely too many multi-million dollar homes as well. Still, I can't imagine living anywhere else.

(I am STARVING right now.)

Today I was with my five year old gal and her baby sis. As the bitsy was taking a nap, the older girl and I did our toenails and talked about our favorite animals. She asked what mine were and I answered ponies, cats, bunnies, dragons... She informed me that dragons weren't an animal. I held my breath. Was fantasyland over so early? Could the Tooth Fairy be far behind? Santa Claus, the Great Pumpkin? Nope, she said. Dragons...are reptiles. They're not even mammals.

Hooray!

I also taught her how to do sudoku this afternoon. So easy, she said! All you need to know is your vertical, horizontal, squares and numbers one through nine! It's like playing tic tac toe with nine players! (I realize that I have a limited amount of information left to truly impart to her. It might take another year, two tops.)

Also today I had the immense awesomeness of breaking a pinky toe. The kids and I were playing on the back patio with the hose on the mist setting, trying to reveal shy rainbows in the atmosphere, laughing, dancing, ha hah! My foot caught the side of a HEAVY chair and was wrenched to the side, only to have the toppling chair come down hard on the pinky toe. It bled. It swole. Are you bleeding? Are you crying? 5-year old asked. Would you like some water? Next thing I know I was being lovingly misted with the hose amidst cries of "Can we make peanut butter and jelly?"

Eventually I made it home and was convinced by P.J. to poke the [GROSS ALERT] mammoth blood bubble with a sterilized needle as it was the size of a small emu. Which is still large enough. It hurt a fair piece but I was told I was very brave. (Repeatedly, as it took a few jabs to relieve the crazy pressure.)

She's resting comfortably, folks, with a good-sized grapefruit and vodka (a greyhound!!) to lull her into a bloggy complacency.

As my two year old does when I tell him to rest his eyes, I'm pressing the palms of my hands into my eyeballs and holding my breath. Goodnight.