For a glimpse of Ted in domestic heat, here's one of my first entries, from August 2002:
Tomorrow is Kayla's birthday, so we spent a great deal of time running around making the outside look at least halfway presentable. There is--or I should say was--a large, wild looking plant growing by our deck. It had thick, green, heart shaped leaves and little green buds that grew in clusters that, if left to grow, would turn purple and look like little deadly blueberies.
Josie got it into her head that it was time for the wild plant to get cut down, even though she's usually it's biggest--which is to say, only--advocate. Every summer it would grow wild and unwieldly on our deck, and occasionally try to nip at the foot of the dog, or suck the earwax out of the childrens' ears. We would slap it back and I would complain, but Josie, the plant's steadfast support, would come to its defense and insist that we keep it there. "I like it," she would say, "It belongs here."
But for some reason, she didn't think it belonged there this year, and so she got out our electric clipper and started to hack away at it.
Naturally, the plant, feeling threatened, started to go on the offensive. Using its thick stalks, it wrapped its leafy appendages around Josie's legs and started to tug at her. She fell to the ground, surprised. The clipper fell out of her hands and scuttled across the deck.
Before she knew it, the plant was all over her, hugging its stalks around her, wrapping its little vines around her extremities and brushing its leafy fingers all over her body--her neck, her legs, her arms. One naughty little stalk actually tried to insert itself into her, much to surprise. A vegan violation!
Alarmed, slapping her arms like crazy, Josie cried out for help.
I was busy at the pool, dutifully filing it with water and hunting down any stray blades of grass that may chance to float to the top.
Like Tarzan saving Jane from the Zulus, I sprang to Josie's defense. Throwing down my skimmer, I ran to the deck and surveyed the situation. The pissed off plant had wrapped its stalk around Josie's neck and was trying to strangle the life out of her while continuing to try to take her from down below. Amidst cries of horror and pleasure, I grabbed the clipper and skillfully landed a killing blow that left the plant strewn in pieces across the lawn and deck.
"My hero," mewed Josie, lying limp and exhausted across the deck, pieces of green matter still entwined in her hair.
"My Lord," I replied, peering down into the crack in the deck where the plant had just minutes ago thrived. "Is that a secret passage?"
Corb got into an auto accident today, on his way to applying for a job in Providence. Very worried, but it appears that everything's under control. The other guy (who was at fault) had Progressive, and they immediately called Corb and got him into a rental and are working to repair the vehicle. That is one smart company, I tell you.
Sunday I went to Ashley's football game, and I gotta tell you, I am doing this Mr. Mom thing really well. You should have seen me there, coaxing her on. She wasn't a happy camper, because she had hurt her foot the day before, and at point was standing there with her arms crossed. I waved to her and put my arms to my sides, the way that all the other cheerleaders were standing, and then suddenly realized what I was doing, and was about to put my arms done, but then laughed and thought, "Ah, what the hell?" I kept egging her on throughout the game, and she got through it all, and almost seemed really animated by the end.
But cheerleading is so freaking sexist. The little woman, cheering her big man on, while he goes out and does BIG THINGS. At the end of the game, the cheerleaders all stood in a line and held out baskets of Rice Crispies for the boys to gobble up. Hell, these guys lost, big time. They should have been the ones handing out the Rice Crispies to the girls.
Is anyone really surprised that Miranda from Sex in the City is a lesbian? I had that one called from day one.