(Getting Back on the Blog Wagon)

Kell: Do you know what a group of cats is called?

Ryan: Cattle?

Conversations with Lucas

While petting a cat on the sidewalk, we met a neighbor kid, Lucas, who was full of choppy, interesting facts. Among them:

This house--I burnt it down. (And no kidding the house was gutted and getting a new facade)

Sammy [the cat] likes to play. One time he threw up.

Sometimes when Sammy farts, people laugh.

So we covered fire, barf, and farts. Did we forget anything?

Not My Job Christmas Edition

Ryan: The ox and lamb kept time? Those are the lyrics?

Kell: Yeah. Don't you love the image of this ox and lamb tapping their hooves or bobbing their heads? Maybe they get their lighters out and hoist them in the air? Pull their sleeves up and check their watches? Get the metronome going on the piano over by baby Jesus' crib?

Ryan: I thought that was the little drummer boy's job, though.

Texting from the Allergist's Office

Ryan: There's a crazy lady in the waiting room.

Kell: What's she doing?

R: She just keeps talking to herself.

K: She must have REALLY bad allergies.

Separate Reactions to the New Slow-Cooker

Ryan: I can't wait to slow cook the ---- out of some meat.

Kell: I wish we could slow cook something real quick.

Bombs and Boobs

Weird day (and it's only 1:32 p.m.):

• This explains what had happened when I drove past a fleet of fire trucks, police cars, and a mob of people fleeing the office building five minutes away from where we live. I didn't hear anything, though.
• Walking to the beach, an oncoming man says to his kid, "Put your oar down, son, before you hit this lady's boobs." And you, sir, can wipe your slimey grin off your face before my knee meets your nuts.