1. Chase is trying to chase down my husband. Every time they call, I ask if it relates to his credit card having been stolen. It never is. They're just trying to sell him something. I get that. I just like toying with people.
2. Wednesday when Chase called yet again, I did my same spiel and the lady did hers in return. She told me what it was about -- trying to sell him a business card -- I told him what it was about. Then I said, "He says no thank you." Her response, "I want to talk to him. Not you."
3. Bad answer, eh? So I hung up, of course, giving a cheery, "By, then!" I told Pete I'd start telling Chase he was dead.
4. You'd think we'd worry that they'd cancel his existing credit card, but, as Pete noted, they'd first have to hear from him that he was dead.
5. This conversation is like a lot of the conversations we have: ones that are really funny...assuming he doesn't drop dead any time soon.
6. I do believe his heart has been guaranteed for another 25 years, what with the triple bypass in March. So I think we're good to keep joking in the face of death. Don't you?
7. I wrote yesterday about my filling kids with junk. Each of my three kids had a friend over the other day and, looking for an easy lunch, I dragged them all to McDonald's. Yeah, we were the rowdy types on the playground.
8. Not as rowdy as one little two-year-old boy. While my crowd was eating, he was refusing to come out of the play structure. Eventually, after many meaningless threats being issued from his father, he came down, and they left. Typical, right?
9. I hope it's not that typical. When my rowdy crowdy went back up, what did they discover? The boy had pooped up in the bowels of the structure. [Pun intended, surely. Shirley.]
10. Ewwwwwwwww. Was that enough to stop them going back up until I could get the maintenance guy up there? Hell, no, they needed pictures of it on their cell phone. [In my children's defense, two out of three wouldn't go look. And, no, the third didn't take the picture.]