Lobster Boy

Yesterday I mentioned to my husband that I would appreciate it if he would copy some VHS home movie tapes for me. Today he has made two forays to computer stores and "opened up the computer", sending me to my kids' computer to blog. How the heck do I get him into these projects? Why do I get him into these projects?

I can't be mad at him though. For one, he's technically doing what I asked. He's doing it in his own way, but he's doing it. And for two, he was my hero yesterday.

Every night that he is home, we have this conversation:

Him: What's for dinner?
Me: I don't know. What are you making?

But since we have no groceries in the house, I was prepared last night with a suggestion to go out for Chinese food.

But he said, "I want lobster."

He trudged to the market and brought home three lobsters, shrimp, and potato salad. Then he proved why it's always good to have a New England boy on hand. He boiled those babies up and even split the tails for me. (Now that sounds dirty.) Bringing me lobster will get you everywhere!

He did something weird though. He took the live lobsters out of the box and let the kids pet them. I didn't think it was a good idea to let the kids bond with our food before he threw it screaming into the pot.

My son ate half the shrimp and a bunch of lobster. We need to hide that stuff from that kid. He'll eat anything. He kept calling it monster though, which I think is cute.

After yesterday's, classy post, I'm feeling a little shy. Who knows how I get these things in my head? Yesterday's post turned out sort of stupid because I was avoiding using the type of language that I use in my own brain.

But, today I am feeling so damn domestic it's not even funny. I redecorated the kid's bathroom in sunny yellow, and now I have the redecorating bug.

My husband just walked by and asked if I'm blogging. He then asked, "Are you blogging about my exploits trying to fix the computer?"

Ha ha. Well, I was. But wait! He said fix the computer. That means it is broken, right? Damn. I need to go supervise my boy.