I'd Rather Laugh With The Sinners Than Cry With The Saints

The sinners are much more fun! I love that song... Oh hi, are you still here? Sorry about being gone. I’ve been one cooking fool. Everyone in the house has gained a few pounds since our kitchen is now fully functional. But to say I’ve been gone so long simply because of food would be a big fat lie.

Did you see Pineapple Express? I’m going to borrow a euphemism of sorts from the movie to better explain what I’ve been doing. Imagine Nintendo’s Harvest Moon and Animal Crossing having filthy sex resulting in a child. At the same time A&E’s Intervention meets Hoarders on eHarmony, and they too have a child out of wedlock. Those two children grow up and meet on FaceBook through a mutual friend, uploading their own child. Her name - Lois Lane.

What does all that mean? I am an addict. I have been playing FarmVille for a week, kind of non-stop. I’ve collected so much shit, I’ve become a virtual hoarder. The game is stupid really. You never get to use your brain but something about it intrigues me.

Remember when Lane 2 was little and played Harvest Moon? I “helped” her get to the next level, which was all it took to hook me on that stupid game. Then I helped her with Animal Crossing and School Tycoon, one disaster after another.

I’ll spare you with the details of my fake farming addiction and just say…my farm is so fucking sweeeeet.

A-hem.

So love was in the air here this Valentines Day. Mr. Lane came in from the store sounding happy, and pretty excited. He said in a sing-songy way, “Lois, I have a surprise for you! Hurry up, but close your eyes.”

In a slight jog, with my eyes closed, I headed toward his voice, arms wiggling in front of me like Helen Keller reaching for a water pump. I felt a tinge of excitement, combined with a heartier beat inside of my chest. “I really love that guy,” I thought as I stood there with my eyes closed.

“Okay, hold your arms out. Nope, bigger than that. Come on, Lo, stretch. Okay, are you ready?”

At that point I was flat-out giddy, arms outstretched, eyes tightly closed, I could hear both kids giggling and Mr. Lane shushing them as the over-sized gift was placed into my arms.

Mr. Lane, also known as the king of Day Late Dollar Short, happily said, “Okay, open your eyes.”

By then, the kids were in hysterics, but the following words put them over the edge. “Now make me a sandwich, bitch!”

He gave me a toaster oven and called me a bitch, swoon! I’ve always wanted one, and could have really used it while our kitchen was out of commission, but hey, better late than never, right?

And really, what better way is there to represent your love than with a toaster oven and demanding a sandwich with vulgarities? I can’t think of anything.

The next night, Mr. Lane came home from work and promptly asked, “Did you make dinner in your Easy-Bake Oven?”

“You mean, my toaster oven?”

“Toaster ovens are just Easy-Bake Ovens for old chicks.”

Wow, if he hadn’t already captured my heart by calling me a bitch, that comment certainly would have had me throwing myself into his arms.

Because there’s never too much laughter, here’s a bonus two-in-one post.

After 13 years of schooling, Lane 1 (who will be 18 in four months - DAMN) finally has a better progress report than his sister. Lane 2 (15 yrs. old) is a freshmen with 12 years of schooling under her belt when you add preschool and kindergarten. She essentially has had as much time in a school setting as he has.

Education has always come more naturally to her. She has been on the honor roll her entire school career, until now, and she is only struggling with one class. For her a C is struggling. For him, well, it’s a gold star. He always had to try his hardest just to get average grades. There have been a couple of times I’ve wondered if he charmed a teacher or bamboozled them into passing him.

Lane 2 is her worst critic. She is so disappointed in her grade, and having her brother gloat in her general direction is the least of her favorite things.

When you’re raising teenagers, sometimes you have to pretend not to hear certain things that fly all willy nilly out of their mouths. It falls under the “Choose Your Battles” theory. So Lane 1 was all a-gloat about his grades. Even more so, he was on his sister’s ass about her one bad grade.

Keep in mind, my senior son has blow off classes like witchcraft, voodoo and basket weaving (slight exaggeration perhaps) while my daughter is taking mostly college prep classes as a freshman.

I was in the kitchen making dinner and they were setting the table in the dining room. Lane 1, in his most sincere voice asked, “Hey, you like that McChicken sandwich at McDonalds, right?”

She said, “Yeah, why?”

“Good, because you’ll be living off of them once you get a job there. Who else would hire someone with such bad grades?”

Laughing pretty good at his own joke, I headed toward the dining room to tell him to stop rib jabbing her, and to remind him he has one good semester under his belt while she has 12 good YEARS. But something stopped me dead in my tracks on my way in there. She retorted with, “Stop being a McAsshole and set the table.”

I had to turn around and go back in the kitchen to laugh without getting caught. I whispered to Mr. Lane what I’d just overheard. Neither of us could believe our sweet baby girl would say that, but because he deserved to be verbally abused by his much smarter sister, we agreed to pretend we didn’t hear a thing.

At the table, dinner in front of us, Lane 1 randomly said, “One night, I wished upon a shooting star, that I would have a smart sister.” Hanging his head with a deep sigh, he continued, “I guess it was just an airplane.”

Lane 2 looked at me as if to say, “Aren’t you going to do anything about him?”

Trying not to smile at his comment, I looked at Mr. Lane as if to say, “Please reprimand him because if I open my mouth, laughter will just fall out.”

“Dude, stop being a McAsshole to your sister.”

A-hem, not exactly what I had in mind. But their father made them laugh and that really is all that matters.

Thanks for being here and reading Home Fires. I hope today brings you lots of laughter. Have a great weekend!