You said it, sister

Hope and I are entertaining ourselves tonight while the boys are at the movie, Transformers. Hank has been begging to see it (ever since we were at Target two days ago shopping for a birthday present and he laid his eyes on all the *#$%! Transformer toys) even though it's PG 13 and his mother has instructed him that PG 13 means you damn well have to be 13 before your mother lets you see a movie rated PG 13.

But all my (14 year-old) friends have seen it, MOM!

Mr. Bickerson is the primary rule-breaker in this family so he decided to take Hank to see it this afternoon (since we have been advised by a 17 year-old that it is "awesome" and "not scary"). I await Hank's verdict.

Meantime Hope has been swimming in our new Backyard White Trash Swimming Pool. It's a freezing, windy 70 degrees outside (the Global Warming Concerts are over, you know -- The Al Gore Hologram has Left the Building, so to speak) and it's approximately 78 degrees in the pool (which is the opposite of warm when you're talking pool temperature).

So she swam and I supervised and then she started shivering so bad that I thought she might break some teeth. I was waiting for the bath to fill and to pass the time, tried to see if I really tried could I in fact touch nose to tongue like Hank and Gary can do. I can't do it. (I've mentioned this before, by the way.)

Hope, sitting in the warm tub surrounded by rising bubbles, was watching me and she tried, failed, shrugged her shoulders and said, "I guess we're both just on the 'Can't Do It Team.'"

I guess when it comes to nose touching maybe we are on the same team, sweetness, but I am happy to be on it with you.