Some days a thought just strikes me and I want to start recording these. Wish I had all along, but some of them will come back to me, because they are very practical, like the one below:

Never again will I eat canned baked beans...especially cold ones.

I just won't do it. Why? Because I seriously don't like them and why should I self-torture? They are so BLAND and the texture is unappealing. They don't even taste good.

Now, doctored up baked beans, the kind my mother is famous for at all the neighborhood picnics and outings to the beach, the Better Homes and Gardens 1950's recipe, that is when I will eat canned baked beans, because they don't resemble the original, not even slightly. But plain beans out of the can, nope, nope, nope. Been there, done that, and never again.

I don't know about you, but I am desperately behind on all things pertaining to the house. So, I'm going to bed early in the hopes of getting up early and digging in.

Oh, but I went with BJH yesterday to look at houses. And the bungalow I had myself moved into, based on the darlingness of the exterior, HA! It was as disappointing as canned baked beans on the inside. MORE SO. It reminds me of a story my growing up friend Brooke used to tell me (she loved this story). Her grandfather was once driving along and spotted a girl walking down the road. He could just see the back of her and she had the most gorgeous flowing red hair in the world. But when he got to where he could view her face, it was badly disfigured and he about drove off the road, it was such a shock. He expected breath-taking beautiful to go with the hair. Yeah, that's what I expected of this bungalow.

Well, good to see it and knock it out of my system. The house had waves and dips, cottage cheese ceilings and a super quirky unworkable kitchen which, BJH wisely pointed out, you could see the whole side of the fridge from the front door, through the living room and dining room, no less. Now, isn't that totally super groovy and charming to boot?

AND, all the wood floors were in an abused state. AND, there was some weird tiny half bath added onto the back of the house, off the master bedroom. It didn't work AT ALL. Nice try, folks! (Not to be mean or anything.) We figured out a bachelor lived there. Looking at houses is way too much fun, and I mean that, even though my dream house turned out to be canned beans.

Nothing like moving out of your dream house before you even move in. Moving on to the next fantasy (hear Mike groan).

We have a new member in the family. My parents got a new little Maltese named Muffy. It should be named Precious, 'cause that's what it is.

Have a SUPER weekend, my friends.

KEM