I texted Ava today and asked her to come to my house and shoot me in the face.

Why? she asked.

Because we’re painting Sassy’s room and I want to die.

It actually wasn’t that bad. I do tend to exaggerate. A little. Sometimes.

Amylynn “Hyperbole” Bright.

So now Sassy’s room is lavender. The whole room except the ceiling which she opted to leave blue with clouds that her grandmother and I did when she was a baby. The Bandit wanted to help, which I suspected was a really bad idea, but what’s a parent to do? We gave him a roller and threatened him. Epic parenting, right?

Actually, the biggest trouble was the animals. Winnie the Wonder Mutt liked to lick the walls. Roscoe preferred to rub his head against the wet paint. The worst of it was getting paint off the cat’s tail.

Stupid cat.

Tra la la la la. It’s Friday. Thank all the old Gods and the new. There is much planned for this weekend. Much of which we can’t tell you now, but all will become known to you in good time. Isn’t that exciting? What do you suppose it will be? Will jail time be a consideration? A trip to PetSmart? We’re not telling you no matter how nicely you ask. Bribery is a consideration if you really can’t wait. We will promise that extensive blogs will be involved in the coming weeks. Here’s some funny stuff to tide you over.

1. Cancel Vermont. According to the newspaper, there is a goat-manure fire and it’s stinking up the town of Windsor, Vermont. Arson is not suspected. Apparently the pile of manure “spontaneously caught fire.” This is very alarming. Is goat manure the only kind that spontaneously combusts? We’ve been very interested in obtaining ourselves one of those adorable fainting goats, but perhaps we should re-evaluate this. We’re certain our husbands have several reasons why getting goats, fainting or otherwise, is a bad idea. The only one we’re interested in is this fire business. Although, we would like to remind you that Ava is from Jersey and those people are more than a little intrigued by fire. This latest news may not actually work in her husband’s favor.

2. Royal hedgehogs. Three wee albino hedgehogs were born in Russia the same day as Prince George so they aptly named the baby hedgehogs George, Alexander, and Louis. Thank goodness there were only three of them right? Otherwise what would they have named the fourth one? Moe? Hortense? Guadalupe? We don’t know, but we have opinions. It seems the entire world has hedgehogs except us. They gave these little fellows a castle to live in complete with carved windows, dark velvet curtains, and a plush bed. If we promise to give some hedgehogs cutsie

names and a castle to live in can we have one or five? Please?

3. More stuff we’re ABSOLUTELY not eating. The Vietnamese are all in a flurry, running all over Hanoi looking for bird’s nests to eat. We’ve heard of this before, but honesty we didn’t pay attention. We refused to believe it was true. Apparently these nests made from the “congealed saliva of Asian swiftlet” is a hot commodity, a delicacy known as the “cavier of the East.” By the way, cavier’s something else we’re not eating. We know that we’re often hypnotized by expensive stuff but to be fair, that’s usually jewelry. WE don’t care how much this

nest nonsense costs, we’re not going to be enticed to eat this. Ever. Ick.

4. We need boxes. We’re moving. It’s a done deal. We’re sending in the escrow check today. This humble castle has four towers. One for each kid. Excellent planning on our part, don’t you think? There are 16 bedrooms so you can come and visit if you bring a nice housewarming present. The 500 acres of land it’s on also has a tavern. That’s going to be the big selling point for our husbands. There’s also plenty of land far away from the house to keep our cute goats in case #1 happens. We feel that our ownership of this castle makes us eligible for #2. Also, it’s just down the road from Paris. They cook normal stuff there. Stuff with butter. There’s croissants. And chocolate. Even thought those French will try to sneak in the odd frog leg and a snail or two, they’d NEVER try duping you with a bird’s nest.

5. Amazon. Not the river, although we’re sure it’s just super. We’re talking about the worlds fastest bookstore. We do lament the loss of small bookstores, and we surely don’t want to see the brick and mortar stores go. We absolutely adore spending time in bookstores. Still, ordering a book and having it on your doorstep in two days is a beautiful thing. Be-u-t-ful! Besides, that’s where Amylynn’s books can all be bought.

I am such a fan of Elmore Leonard. I’ve been reading his books for…ages. His dialogue is genius. I got Ava interested in his work when I made her start watching Justified. He created the character and was a producer, although he didn’t write the show.

I have an autographed first edition copy of Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules of Writing.

Even if you don’t think you know Elmore, you know his work. Get Shorty. 3:10 to Yuma. Out of Sight.

Several years ago I drove Mr. Leonard and his son around town for the Tucson Festival of Books. We wrote about it here. He was an absolute delight, even though he did critique my driving and Ava informed him he needed to stop smoking. He was 87 at the time, and an exceptionally intelligent man. I suspect he knew the risks of smoking, but still…

Raising boys is very exciting. All of a sudden the Bandit is on an injury kick. Just last week we were at the ER for stitches in his knee after a run in with our dog and a rock.

On Saturday the kids were in the back yard playing. Both of our dogs were asleep in the living room so I figured things would go alright. Then I heard the yelling and some crying, followed by screeching and the persistent wailing of, “I’m gonna die!”

A parent tries not to laugh at times like this. My children are very dramatic. I have no idea where they get it. As a consequence, I am exceedingly calm in an emergency.

I met The Bandit in the kitchen expecting very little in the way of an actual injury. I can’t tell you how many times I can’t find any physical evidence of a wound. Usually it’s a thinly disguised form of tattling. This time however, there was blood.

Copious blood. He had his hand over his eye and the red stuff was dripping from his chin and oozing out from between his fingers.

“Oh,” I said. I peeled his hand away from his face and determined that he had a cut above his eyebrow. It was nothing epic, but facial cuts always bleed like crazy making things much scarier than they need to be.

I got the bleeding to stop and put a butterfly bandage on it. A bandage that would be quite small on a grown man’s head was ENORMOUS on his little forehead. The trip to the ER was cancelled.

This time it was determined that the wound was received with the assistance of an older sister and a baseball. If you ask her, she will give you a complicated story that involves gravity and rivals middle East political negotiations. If you can pay attention long enough to follow the story you’re a better person than me.