Well, yeah... I know it's a whole day past Sunday but I'm here!
Sunday was sort of a bust. After two days of nail-biting baseball tryouts at the high school, and hours and hours of nail-biting while waiting for the roster to be posted online, we found out that Shaggy did not make the HS baseball team.
At first we were totally BUMMED. But then, we found out that many, many of his friends who tried out (and who are better than him) also didn't make it, including two who were ON IT last year. Apparently, these coaches were looking for something very specific - sure wish I knew what.
Anyhow. As soon as we found out, we called up the baseball team he was on last year and registered him for this year. At least he'll be playing and since four of his friends from school are also signing up, he's hyped. *big deep sigh of relief*
I will NOT, however, be doing that pesky Team Mom thing again.
Last year's coordinator emailed me, begging. Shaggy's batting coach, who was his team coach last year stated he'd coach this year again... IF I agreed to be the Team Mom.
No. No. No. No. No. Pleassssssse no.
Mr. Clean thinks the whole thing is hilarious and I think he's taking bets on when I'll cave. He's going to lose some money.
Now that that's out of the way, I believe I promised something about co-op'ing a steer. Here's the deal...
You may have recently heard the news about cloned beef? No? Well, apparently, the FDA has approved the use of cloned beef for human consumption. Wheeee. The only problem? They also stated that they don't think it's necessary to LABEL the packages in order to INFORM you of what you're eating. I don't know about you, but I sort of have an issue with not being fully informed on what I'm putting on my kids' plates every night.
And I'm not so sure about this whole cloned beef thing. It bothers me.
So.
Wahoo and I are talking about going in halfsies on a steer. We're going to feed him and pet him and call him "Chuck". And then...
... we're going to EAT him.
And he's going to be good. I'm not quite up for chickens yet, though. They scare the pants off me.
Sunday was sort of a bust. After two days of nail-biting baseball tryouts at the high school, and hours and hours of nail-biting while waiting for the roster to be posted online, we found out that Shaggy did not make the HS baseball team.
At first we were totally BUMMED. But then, we found out that many, many of his friends who tried out (and who are better than him) also didn't make it, including two who were ON IT last year. Apparently, these coaches were looking for something very specific - sure wish I knew what.
Anyhow. As soon as we found out, we called up the baseball team he was on last year and registered him for this year. At least he'll be playing and since four of his friends from school are also signing up, he's hyped. *big deep sigh of relief*
I will NOT, however, be doing that pesky Team Mom thing again.
Last year's coordinator emailed me, begging. Shaggy's batting coach, who was his team coach last year stated he'd coach this year again... IF I agreed to be the Team Mom.
No. No. No. No. No. Pleassssssse no.
Mr. Clean thinks the whole thing is hilarious and I think he's taking bets on when I'll cave. He's going to lose some money.
Now that that's out of the way, I believe I promised something about co-op'ing a steer. Here's the deal...
You may have recently heard the news about cloned beef? No? Well, apparently, the FDA has approved the use of cloned beef for human consumption. Wheeee. The only problem? They also stated that they don't think it's necessary to LABEL the packages in order to INFORM you of what you're eating. I don't know about you, but I sort of have an issue with not being fully informed on what I'm putting on my kids' plates every night.
And I'm not so sure about this whole cloned beef thing. It bothers me.
So.
Wahoo and I are talking about going in halfsies on a steer. We're going to feed him and pet him and call him "Chuck". And then...
... we're going to EAT him.
And he's going to be good. I'm not quite up for chickens yet, though. They scare the pants off me.
