Here is a little gem of anger I found from last summer. Besides leaving yarn all over the place, I also leave written anger.
I know somewhere there is a notebook with a draft letter to Nicolas Cage demanding he mow my lawn as a way of repayment for tricking me into watching some of his bad movies. (Don't be angry Nic, I still love you!)
This is from Sept '06
The 2 little pigs, all 78 pounds of them, and I went for the last bike ride of the season yesterday. I attached the trailer to the Giant (I said Giant, that means bike, not Ogre) and pedaled up to town. Yep, I had my sweet babies on the shoulder of a 55 mph road.
I now have a small bit of info for the fools at MDOT. BIKE PATHS SHOULD BE A MANDATORY PART OF ALL ROAD PLANNING AND CONSTRUCTION. There. Oh, one more thing. Kiss my ass (edited portion), I hope you get fired from MDOT.
Back to the story. We saw wildlife, and went to the park and had a lovely time. Ok, total lie. We saw dead oppossums, and learned that the stench of death is quite fragrant. At the park we ran into an uptight lady with two tidy kids. As you may know, I call my kids the three little pigs. This is because they are usually pretty dirty, but also enjoying themselves. I let my boys run barefoot and slide down the slides. The other lady her kids keep their shoes on under penalty of death, and yelled "DON'T GO DOWN THE SLIDES!!! YOU'LL GET DIRTY LIKE THOSE KIDS!!"
I have dirty kids. I know this. But hey, she was lucky, I didn't swear at her. I let the boys eat Pocky and get even more filthy with a chocolate-y treat right in front of her clean kids and then loaded them back into the trailer and biked home.