Calfgrit3 and Calfgrit7 wanted to help me make Cowgrit’s birthday cake, so I let them. They helped pour in the ingredients, mix the batter, and put on the icing. They even placed the candles.

We ended up with four candles because Calfgrit7 wanted to put two on it, and that meant that Calfgrit3 also wanted to put two on it. There’s no relationship between the number four and Cowgrit’s birthday.

I used heart-shaped cake pans, and it all turned out real pretty. Cowgrit was happy, the boys loved it, and I hope the wish she made when she blew out the candles comes true.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

Sweet, innocent, little darlings? Don’t let the facade fool you. They act their role eleven months of the year, but then for one month, around February, they bring out the devil’s temptation.

Oh God, how those damn cookies call to me. And with all the little Girl Scouts in the neighborhood, all the friends with daughters in the Scouts, and coworkers with girls in the Scouts, I can end up with a dozen boxes ordered before I realize how much debt I’ve signed myself up for. And the money is the least of the problem.

I eat the cookies a box at a time. Yesterday, I got my first box — and it wasn’t from an order — I bought it on the street. I ate the entire box before bed time.

There’re are several flavors I enjoy, but the Caramel Delites (formerly known as “Samoas”) are my favorite. I’d push an old lady down to get at the last box of these delights from the devil.

This first box just whetted my appetite. I’ve forgotten just how many boxes I’ve ordered through all the Girl Scouts around my life, but I fear I may have to get a second mortgage to pay for them, and I may have to buy a new wardrobe to wear after I gorge myself on the contents.

I need help, I know. But if someone tries to help by taking away a box of these cookies from me, I may kill. I must be stopped.

Special Note

Happy birthday Cowgrit!

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

I had to get a copy of my birth certificate to get a passport (which just arrived yesterday). I should compare it to my boys’ certificates to see how things have changed in 35 years.

Some of the fields are interesting to note, not for what was entered, but for what they ask. To start with something that isn’t actually a field, but is just the title of the paper: “Certificate of Live Birth” This suggests that there are certificates of . . . not live births. I guess it makes sense, for an official record-keeping purpose, but it just gives a creepy feeling to think about it.

Field 8 and 13 ask the parents “Color or Race.” There’s a field for the father’s “Usual Occupation,” but there isn’t such a field for the mother. Does this show an assumption that mothers in the 60s didn’t have occupations?

Then there’s the fields that I find slightly disturbing: [Capitalizations as on the form.]
“How many OTHER children are now living?”
“How many OTHER children were born alive but are now dead?”
“How many fetal deaths (fetuses born dead at ANY time after conception?”

And finally, there’s this note: “Has mother inspected certificate for accuracy of information?” “No” is checked. So they didn’t have my mother (or father) check the birth certificate for accuracy before finalizing it? So it could be wrong?

So my birth date could be wrong? I might not be who I think I am? I might not have been a live birth?

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

It’s been a long day at work, and then I spent the evening playing World of Warcraft, and now I have no time or energy to write a real post. So here’s a random picture:

My lunch (rib sandwich and onion rings) — was real good.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com