It's Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. Last week my friend made this really yummy King cake for us. There won't be another until next year. I should have eaten more when I had the chance.

Monkey Boy checking out the windows in our new WALLS!

He doesn’t think I know what he’s done. He totally thinks he got away with it. He doesn’t realize I’m just too tired to fight about it. Although it’s possible he counted on wearing me down.

Charlie Case gets to have the doors he wanted on the new version of the old house. He wins because he was smart enough not to attack outright. He was all sneaky about it.

When we first started looking at designs for the rebuild, he would show me photos of back porches and sun rooms he liked. I would say, “Yes, but with different doors.” He would remain silent. Then I saw the photos he’d pulled go to the architect. I said, “Those elements, but with different doors.” Not a word.

We were at a meeting with the contractor a few weeks ago, going over some selections. He was asking us a series of questions.

Builder: Windows, Color A or Color B?

Me: Color B.

Builder: Window panes, Option A or Option B?

Me: Option A.

Builder: Doors, Option A or Option B?

Me: Option A.

Charlie: Those are not the doors you want.

Me: What? No, those are exactly the doors I want.

Charlie: Those are not the doors you want.

Me: Look, Jedi mind tricks! Those may not be the doors you want, but those are exactly the doors I want.

Charlie: You haven’t thought that through.

Me: Yes, I have. Those are the doors I want. Those are the doors I said I wanted. If you want something different say so, but stop telling me what I want and think.

Charlie (turns to builder): We’re going to have to get back to you on the doors. We haven’t made a decision.

I was totally steaming. I started grumbling about telling me what I want and various, assorted other infractions he’s committed over the years. Then he distracted me with a shiny dime and I forgot about the whole thing.

But he’s wily. Today he called with a list of questions from the contractor before they do some things.

Charlie: Windows, Color A or Color B?

Me: Color B.

Charlie: Good, that’s what I told him. Window panes, Option A or Option B?

Me: Option A.

Charlie: That’s what I told him. And then I told him Option A on the door.

Fine. Well played, Charlie Case. You win.

Charlie has found this compulsion bizarre since we were first married. He doesn’t understand it. If I left things up to him, he would just smash all the sheets up under the mattress any old way. Just talking about that makes my eye twitch.

A few years ago, I can’t remember why, but Katy Kat was helping me make beds in advance of company coming. Charlie walked in the room. Katy and I were chatting about something totally unrelated, but both tucking and folding sheets in unison.

He just stared at us in stunned silence for a moment before announcing, “You two are freaks. And your whole family are a bunch a bed-making freaks who taught you both how to do that.”

Until that moment, I hadn’t even realized what was happening. Katy and I make beds exactly the same way. We both learned from our fathers, who learned from our Nano. My sister and Katy’s siblings do the same thing as well. We are all very precise, bed-making freaks. We can’t help ourselves.

This weekend, Monkey Boy announced with big pride that he made his own bed. He was as particular about it as he could be. Charlie was horror-stricken. “You did this to him!” he accused me. My heart was so full it almost exploded with pride. “I know!”

He walked out of the room shaking his head and mumbling, “whole family of bed-making freaks…”

Monkey Boy's work. He still has some wrinkles to work out of the system. But I'm pleased with his progress.

Valentine's Day at Casa Manana. The crowd was teenagers, drinking iced tea, and young families, moms swilling margaritas.

Since this week was Valentine’s Day, there’s been quite a bit of talk about hearts and flowers. Earlier this week, Monkey Boy began to ask some questions about this thing called love.

Him: When were you in love with Daddy?

Me: I’m still in love with Daddy. I’ve loved Daddy for a long time.

Him: Who is Katy in love with?

Me: She’s in love with [her fella].

Him: Remember when I was in Ms. Francis’ class last year?

Me: Yes, I remember.

Him: That’s when I met Luna….

That’s right, folks. The boy has full-blown puppy love. He absolutely moons over a girl, appropriately named, Luna. At dinner, I told Charlie about this conversation.

Charlie: Do you think Luna’s pretty?

Monkey Boy: Yes.

Me: Do you think she’s nice? Because nice is the most important thing.

Charlie: *snorts* She’s right, son. I went for pretty. Look what happened to me.

I asked a couple of guys at work to take a picture of my hair. It’s an advertising agency. We present the best version of things. Don’t let the photos diminish your belief in their skill set. I’m not really a great model.

Yeah, I have no idea either.

So I just took a photo on my computer. It’s not great, but at least I don’t look baffled by life.

Hello from my cube

Apparently dictionary.com has a high prison newbie readership

Happy Valentine’s Day from Monkey Boy! Nothing says love like plastic robot bags filled with sugar.

As Charlie and I were walking out of the stadium, our friend kept repeating, “I can’t believe we lost to a team wearing red pants. I just can’t believe it. I bet every team we play for the rest of the year just lines up and says, ‘Hey! You lost to a team wearing red pants.’ Because we did. We lost to a team wearing red pants.”

I couldn’t help but dislike all red pants after that. Lately, I’ve been seeing some fashion photos that are making me rethink the red pants issue. We’ve had a good team the past couple of years. Maybe it’s time to get over my fear and loathing of red pants.

He was $10 at Hobby Lobby this weekend. I don't know where his buddies got off to. But he needed a home, so I got him. Now he needs a name. I'm taking suggestions.

Fashion Statement

Two weeks ago, I fell down the stairs. No way to really explain it. I just missed a step and landed on the floor. It hurt.

It did not occur to me that maybe I shouldn’t keep working out and running on it. Until this weekend, when it started to hurt a lot more. I went to the doctor. Nothing is broken, but I’ve managed to do a real number on the muscles and ligaments. I’m totally awesome like that. I’ll be wearing this beauty for the next two weeks.

I’ve decided to embrace the absurdity. I’m told nudes are all the rage for spring. So, I’m breaking out the fancy socks. I’m gonna pull out the bedazzler. This is gonna be H-O-T.