Oh Mio Dio

Velveeta in the food section is enough of a stretch, but in the Italian section?! Why, that's just offensive. Dillons, I love your international offerings, but please put this where it belongs: with the oils, plastics and poison. And kindly fill the space with cannoli shells.

Oh mio dio.

Yep, it's been an OMG (or OMD) week around here, including one event that will NOT be accompanied by a photo. So I'll paint the picture: Anthony and I were working on a shower curtain hanging project upstairs (and, incidentally, I highly recommend complicated building, measuring, drilling and hanging projects in close quarters with one's tired spouse).

Meanwhile, the boys were downstairs discovering the hilarity of combining an iPhone's photo capabilities with their private parts. About a dozen times.

I'm sorry, don't most boys wait until their 20s for that?!

Anyway, as funny as I secretly found it (before promptly erasing them, thankyouverymuch Federal prosecutors), the boys were sternly scolded, grounded and reminded that people who do those kinds of things wind up in jail.

Or politics.

In other news, more WTF than OMG, I'd like to introduce my newest accessory:

Man, I need a mani. 

Yes, that's an inhaler and, yes, apparently a 35-year-old can develop asthma, either allergy-induced (thanks Wichita!) or exercise-induced. Not sure what's causing mine, but I do know that nothing inspires confidence in spin class like a wheezing instructor.

But here's hoping the wheezing is behind me; a quick suck on that tailpipe helps me breathe more like myself and less like the 100-year-old lifelong smoker who's been inhabiting my body for a few months.

And, yes, to complete the look, I'll be un-retiring my glasses and headgear.