Send The Mojo

So things have been rough around Chez Quinn recently. The Man spent seven hours in the E.R. yesterday, but we confirmed that the pain in his left arm is not heart related. It's muscle related. Which is a big relief. But I really could use some better Juju around this place. I'm feeling a little like this Muddy Waters song.



Until next time, Citizens. Gotta say though, that my super villainy plans are sounding more and more reasonable.

Surviving The Strain On The Crazy Train

So, I'm drowning in my annual kid science days. I only got eight parent volunteers this year as opposed to 21 and 25 the two previous years. I have a new principal who doesn't know what he's doing and apparently lacks the ability to answer emails.

The first of the two days is this Friday, and I've done virtually everything myself. It's been a nightmare of epic proportions. So directly after I take 140 first and second graders tromping through the woods from science station to science station with seven teachers and eight parent volunteers, I'll be retreating to the hermetically sealed environs of My Happy Place.

Until it's time to do it again with 200 third, fourth and fifth graders next month.

Speaking of elementary schoolers. Why in the world didn't they offer a program like this when I was a kid? This ROCKS!!



They also perform Led Zepplin, Jimi Hendrix and James Brown. Among others.

If I survive, I will see you all next time, Citizens. Though I may be forced back into super villainy. Only time will tell.

Happy Easter, Peep Style!

I hope all who celebrate have a peaceful and happy Easter.



Enjoy some Peep fun!

What? A Re-Run You Say?

While all my blogging buddies are working their tuckuses (Tucki? Tuckus-es? hmmm.) off for the awesome April A to Z Challenge, I'm busy passing off a 2013 re-run. I bow my head in shame. All the same, enjoy this medicinally induced trip down memory lane. And to all my A to Z friends, I'll be stopping in tonight to root you on!!

Curse You, Head Cold I Was Unprepared For!

So I was sitting on the floor of my bathroom two days ago, rummaging around in the cabinet under the sink, looking for cold medicine. Which we apparently hadn't restocked from last year. I sat there, in my mucus haze, cursing the little three year old glazed-doughnut-monsters that had passed on their crusty germs to me and looking for anything that might provide relief.

This is how The Man stumbled upon me as I dazedly contemplated the decade old Benadryl in my hand, trying to remember what I knew about half-life potency of certain drugs. Which, whether sick or healthy, is pretty much diddly over squat.

Cautiously, like approaching an injured animal in the wild, The Man asked, "Whatcha got there?"

Clutching the medicine that expired in 2003 to my chest like it's My Preciousssss, I replied, "Nothing."

"Nothing, huh?"

"Just some medicine I think I might take."

"Lemme see it."

I shook my head, wishing immediately that I hadn't.

He gave me that disapproving look, the one he saves for when I've really gone off the reservation. The one that's part, "Do we really have to ride this train?" and "Why do I always have to be the responsible adult?"

After much coaxing and bribery by alcohol, he got me to release the medicine and brought me some whiskey with honey and lemon in it, which I sipped until he came back from the store with Nyquil and day time cough medicine.

That Man, I tell you. He's a keeper.

So I've been sick and wishing I could stay in bed, but nursery school duty calls and I must obey--since I'm hoping to give the germs right back to those little critters!

Anywho, until next time, Citizens, when I'll be talking about music and writing. Stay healthy! And if you see any little glazed doughnut monsters wiping their noses on their sleeves. . .  head the other way!