More Randomness

We're on about day five of trying to eat more natural foods and less processed crap. I'm seeing a bid difference in DS already, which is encouraging. I'm also, however, starting to wonder if we're not also dealing with some mild sensory issues. And whether that's worth a call to the pediatrician or not, being that he's seven. He claps his hands over his ears whenever a car or truck goes by, saying it's too loud. He "flaps wings" when he gets excited about something--it's a behavior that vanished when he was about 2 and is now back. And he seems utterly incapable of controlling himself sometimes, physically (in a bouncing around kind of way) and with what's becoming constant yelling and loudness. I'm really not sure if this is nothing or something. Ugh.

I decided this morning that when I'm Supreme Ruler of the World, all U.S. presidential candidates will be required to have at least two years of active duty military service on their resumes. And from here on out, I'm not voting for anyone without it. Party notwithstanding. It seems like a basic prerequisite for the commander in chief. I mean when you think about it, handing off orders to our soldiers is one of the few powers a president really has.

Whichever cell service has the "please enjoy the music while your party is reached" is really irritating. Just FYI. 

I finally found both a corn muffin recipe and a pizza dough recipe that I really like. These make me happy. :) Now, if I could find an everyday bread recipe that worked well, I'd be a totally happy camper. At least in the carbs department.

True story: we had our sidewalk (street to the front door) torn out and replaced last week. This made the porch inaccessible for a few days. We have a mail slot thru the front door. Because the mail carrier couldn't get to it, I put a box in the lawn that had U.S. MAIL written on it in black Sharpie (in neat, large, all capital, letters on a white background), and then a sign on the storm door that said BOX FOR MAIL IN YARD in the same marker. Saturday, I walked into the yard at the same moment that the mail carrier--an older Asian man--jumped off my porch. Onto the damp concrete walk, that was ringed by yellow construction tape and orange cones. I stared at him, wide-eyed. He pointed to the box in the yard and with a heavy accent asked, "What does that say?" Which proves, once and for all, that my street really is some kind of remedial program for illiterate mail carriers. It also explains a lot about why I miss a lot of mail. Good lord, man, get yourself some Hooked on Phonics if this is your chosen career path!

Is anybody else nervous about these Chinese Olympics? I really have a bad feeling...