Guess what? The keys were found. The keys were actually found on Friday and turned in to the school lost and found - because Omega's high school is awesome like that. But because she left the car at school and went to her friend's house to take a nap before the evening basketball game, she didn't even know they were lost until too-late-the-office-is-locked o'clock.
Why Homer and Omega couldn't find them on Saturday when a coach let them into the office to peruse the lost and found is anyone's guess, but I suspect it has something to do with kid vision. Yes, some cases are known to linger into the 50's. Have I ever mentioned that I'm married to a visual savant? That man can spot a freshly hatched baby antelope 2 miles off the Wyoming freeway, but cannot see a bright red water jug sitting in the middle of the kitchen counter. I'm not sure how this will play out in his senior years but I'm thinking I should start shopping for a camouflage patterned toilet.
But I digress. Today is Fat Tuesday in case you missed the memo. Mardi Gras! Here is where I would put the picture of the totally adequate King's Cake I was up baking until way past my bedtime:
And, look here at the BestDogintheWorld wearing her beads (It's only natural that she have beads since she runs around flashing her boobies 24/7):
Shucky-darn, forgot my camera. You will just have to take my word on those.
Anyway, Fat Tuesday, like all good things, comes at a price. Tomorrow starts Lent, and for some, 40 days of self-denial among other things. Being the good little Luth-olic that I am, each year I try to find an appropriate sacrifice to go along with the rest of the family - which is Catholic - except for the dog, because of that continuously topless thing.
Lent is a yearly battle for me because I SUCK at willpower. I am usually torn between giving up something quite painful, knowing that I will probably fail miserably or picking something lightweight that I know I can do but won't leave much of a mark. Well, at least I have the Catholic guilt thing down.
So this year I am going to give up soda.
That would be pop to you Northerners.
Coke for my friends down South.
Gah! I said it. Soda is right, smack, top of my painful list. You have no idea how much I love my diet bubbly! This is going to hurt. And not just me, unfortunately.
So if you come to visit some day and find just feathers floating, you will know why.
I wonder if I should get a medic alert bracelet or something.... 'In case of loss of consciousness or atomic bitchiness, douse with Mountain Dew!'.
I understand that true Catholic style says that you aren't supposed to discuss your sacrifice, let alone probably, post it all over the internet but I have friends of all religions who do this. The Mormons are the best I tell you - I think they OWN self denial.
And, since I'm nosy like that, tell me, are you all giving up anything?
I may not get around to visiting you all today since there's a dead spot in the wi-fi down by the pop machine. You do understand the concept of Fat Tuesday, right? Indulge 'til it hurts.
If I were anything but a Norwegian American with a smattering of Spanish skills, I would put some sexy French Mardi Gras phrase right here:
It would probably start with Bon, no?