fair and balanced reporting of the last five vacuous "disagreements" that have gone down in this house

1) Whether a door propped open about 1 foot with a bar stool provides more fresh, cool air than a door propped open about three feet with a card table. Mrs. G. isn't going to say who tried to inject physics and meteorology into the heated discussion, because she isn't that kind of spouse, and because she thinks the probability is fairly high that most of you know who in this marriage frequently just makes shit up.

2) Whether a six foot cardboard Johnny Depp cut out belongs in the vacant corner in their dining room. Mr. G. says no. Mrs. G. swore on metaphorical stack of bibles that the six foot cardboard Johnny Depp cut out would, beyond question, inspire her to cook more often..

Mr. G: So, you're telling me putting this six foot cardboard cut out of Johnny Depp in our dining room would inspire you to cook more?

Mrs. G: That's exactly what I'm telling you.

Mr. G: You are a liar.

Mrs. G: I know, but I still think it would look really good there.

3) How come it's OK to complain about the rain but not OK to complain about the heat. This one is still ongoing. It is difficult living with the arbiter of legitimate, benign complaints, the ruling umpire of bona fide laments. Ongoing.

4) Whether it is a moral failure to scrape the gross remains on your plate into the sink and not follow through by shoving them down the down the garbage disposal, so the next person who comes along doesn't have to. It is.

5) Whether a belt is a utilitarian tool or an instrument of fashion.

Mr. and Mrs. G...just sitting here on the couch waiting for a couple of those Genius Grants.

I cannot tell a lie (by Miss G.)

Honesty is the cornerstone of a healthy relationship unless, let's be real, it involves "does this make me look fat" questions. ~Miss G.

This is my hmmm, Mom, let's think on it for 2 to 4 years look.

This evening, while watching an episode of Game of Thrones, Mrs. G turned to me and asked a question that gets thrown around about once every 4-6 months in the G house hold. "Should I cut all my hair off? What about just a simple, short cut?"

In previous years I might have humored her, but having gone through this cycle multiple times in the past (ending, 9/10 times, with woe and much wringing of hands) I was forced to be honest and provide her with the two primary reasons why this would be a very Bad Idea.

1. A "simple, short cut" necessitates lots of maintenence to prevent the unwanted "orphan child" look from taking over. Mrs. G does not exactly have a very good track record with hair maintenence, in fact this is essentially the opposite of her usual M.O., which embraces her hair's natural energy by allowing it to reign free and unmolested.

2. When one has (as all G women do - myself included) a head not unlike a bowling ball, it is generally unwise to accentuate that fact by chopping off your distracting hair-cape. This is a mistake we all have made.

Mrs. G, though stung, could not argue with the logic of my argument. So, Derfs, on that note: share stories of your worst hair mistakes.

Mancake: Good Daddies

Here's some sweet sippy cup rappin'...

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A Little Night Magic

Photo by Nick K.

It's 1:40am and Mrs. G. just woke up because she needed to pee. While she was simultaneously rousing herself awake and persuading herself she didn't really need to leave the warmth of her bed, she could surely hold it until morning, she heard Chewie pad over to the bedroom door, which is his unwaivering signal that he needs to go.

Mrs. G. laid in the bed a minute considering the following:

1) Chewie can read her mind.

2) Chewie is her spirit animal

3) Chewie is so selfless he spontaneously wakes up to pee in solidarity.

4) Chewie was trying to soft soap Mrs. G. into thinking it was morning so he could get an early start on breakfast.

They both did their business. Chewie ambled back to bed and Mrs. G. felt the need to document this moment before she goes back to sleep and it floats away by morning.

Miracle? No. Worth scribbling about in the wee hours of the morning? Questionable. Dotty thinking? Maybe.

But she thought it was sweet.

Night.

F-A-M-I-L-Y

Mrs. G's mom recently told her that Mrs. G's late, great-uncle, Bubby, used to have a pet capuchin monkey named Judy. Mrs. G. can't remember if she's written about her Uncle Bubby before, but if she hasn't, you really should hold it against her.

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Olympian Mancake of the Day...The USA Canine Division

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and this, reader, is why I married him...we are equally deficient in the vanity department

This is Mr. G's latest Facebook status update:

Nick Gattuccio

2 hours ago

Rough start this morning. Woke a bit late so dashed out quickly. Sat at my desk at work and noticed that fly was open. Went to close fly and noticed my belt was unbuckled. My, oh, my. Apologies to those I passed in the hall.

what has mrs. g. been up to besides writing?

1) Struggling to keep her pajama pants on.

Meet Gustavo (Gus), Chewie's brother from another litter.

2) Struggling to keep her pajama pants on.

Chewie may be nearly two years older than Gus, but everything is a competition between these two, particularly pulling off Mrs. G's pajama pants.

3) Unabashed, furry idolization, puppy breath snorting and neck nuzzling.

Important stuff, see?