I smell bacon.

School started this week. With school means the start of football games. And that can only mean one thing. Bacon. We started the tradition last year. After the kids came home from the football games we would have bacon cooked and ready for them to eat. The first time, Nicholas came through the door and yelled, "I smell bacon!" He had such a huge smile on his face, we've been doing it ever since. Then we sit around and hear about how they did in marching band at the game while they ate. Kind of a late night breakfast, if you will.

Anyway. Last night at breakfast, Sarah told us that on the way home from the game in Buckhannon she got in trouble on the bus. We were very surprised. Sarah never gets in trouble at school. One of the chaperones busted her for sitting in the back of the bus. In the same seat with a boy. This is clearly against the rules.

But it gets better. Apparently, she sat and argued with the chaperon saying that she'd done it all last year and even as recently as last week on the band trip to Kennywood. She did her best, but in the end she had to change seats.

And so did her brother.

Just call me Sherlock Holmes.

The past few weeks I've been having problems with my husbands' white shirts. Each week one of his shirts has ended up in the laundry basket with marks all over it. I haven't been able to figure out what they are or where they come from. One week there were blue steaks up and down the arms, the next week gray spots on the back, and this past week yellow smudges on his collar. And I can't get any of the marks off either.

I've tried shout, oxi-clean, bleaching, etc. Nothing works. It's a mystery.

Until yesterday at lunch. My friend casually asked if I've had any luck getting stains out of Brian's white shirts. What?!? I haven't told anyone, so I was curious as to how she knew about his shirts.

Apparently during church her grandson has been coloring with markers. All over the back of my husband. She'd been too embarrassed to mention it before. I have noticed her grandson has been a lot quieter lately...

Ahhh, this explains everything. Permanent markers. Hence all the drawings and designs on his back. Then when he puts his arms up on the back of the pew, little lines up and down his sleeves.

So, Sunday I have a couple of options. I can bring some washable markers. Or we can find a different seat to sit in. Either way: Mystery Solved!

It's okay. Her virtue wasn't lost---just temporarily misplaced.

Sarah and Heather got their Young Women Recognition Awards this Sunday. It's the completion of 4-5 years worth of goals and projects. It was a lot of work and I was proud of them for finishing it.

They spent a lot of time this summer working on the different "value" projects. Even though I knew what they were doing, it always threw me off to hear them talking about it. "Anna how is your integrity?" I heard Heather ask one day. Anna replied, "I'm working on it, but I don't have any faith."

This past year they added the value "Virtue." Since it wasn't in the book, the girls were given a separate virtue pamphlet. Last month Heather could be heard yelling through the house, "Mom, I lost my virtue! Has anyone seen my virtue?" Don't worry, we found Heather's virtue. It was in the kitchen. Where she left it.

Trying to cut the cord, but it's just too hard.

Today Sarah and Nicholas went to Kennywood with the band. For the whole day. Not that I mind so much. It's just that it is really hot out and you know, I worry. So this morning I went through the whole spiel about making sure they drink water all day because dehydration is no laughing matter. I know I went over all of this last night so I probably deserved the eye rolling, but I can't help it.

I was about to start going over everything one last time when my children volunteered:

Yes, we charged our phones. Yes, we have money for food and water. Yes, we have hats. (There is a 67 percent chance of rain today at Kennywood and they refused to bring rain ponchos.)

Fine. I get it. I watched them drive out of the driveway feeling a pang of sadness. I decided I'd run out to wave goodbye. On my way to the garage door I saw they had forgotten something. "Wait," I yelled running after them.

More eye rolling as my daughter informed me that she had grabbed a different hat. "That's fine," I told her. "But you'll need your band shoes," I replied smugly as I handed them to her. Ahhh, it's nice to know my children still need me.

Please pass the manners.

Last night I was standing in the kitchen eating cookie dough. When out of no where, my husband and 2 of my kids tackled me, taking the cookie dough. Tackled me. To the ground. I ask you, what has this world come to when you can't eat cookie dough in the sanctuary of your own home without having to worry about getting pummeled?

I think the trouble can all be traced back to the day our cat gun was mysteriously broken. We used to have a cat gun which was actually just a spray bottle. When the cats were little we sprayed them to remind them not to get on the table. Later, starting out as a joke, we used it on the kids. When the kids were chewing with their mouth full, eating rice with their fingers, or licking their plates, my husband would spray them with the cat gun. It worked wonders on their table manners.

Anyway, it seems that this past summer I have been asking "Where are your manners?" way too often. So often, that I'm considering buying a replacement cat gun. Getting tackled for cookie dough would have definitely been grounds for a good spray. I mean, chances are that had they asked politely, I might have given them some...

The last time I asked Anna where her manners were, she turned to me and replied, "Manners can't be taught, they are bred." First, what does that even mean? Second, at our house the only "breeding" you'll find is white or wheat. As in bread. I had responded by asking her if she wanted butter with her "bred."

I admit that maybe I could have come up with something better to say. It probably showed my lack of breeding. Yep, I definitely need to buy a new cat gun.

Mind your p's and q's.

Can I just say that the amount of crud I just sucked out of Brian's crack is just plain embarrassing? And before you get to thinking how nice I am for doing this, stop right there. Normally I am right there with those of you who believe you should clean out your own crack, but today I made an exception.

Because last night, well, I may or may not have left his car window open and we had this huge rain storm. So, I'm kind of hoping that by the time he comes home, he'll be so busy noticing his squeaky clean crack and newly vacuumed interior that he won't realize that his behind is completely wet from the car seat...hey, it could happen.

Plus, now that I have this nifty little vacuum, it is fun to vacuum all the little cracks and crevices that before were out of reach and therefore off limits. So beware. No one's crack is safe.

You'll never know what you'll see at the doctor's office.

Sarah has had a sore throat for the past couple days and today she woke up with an ear ache. I knew what this meant and I dreaded it. A trip to the doctor. Ugh. I dropped Sarah off at the door so she could sign in and went to park the car. After getting Sarah registered, I went to the waiting room when, who did I find myself sitting across from? It figures. It was the guy I had just seen in the parking lot. The guy who was peeing on his car. Seriously. Who does that?

It was awkward for several reasons. First, he had turned to look at me as I drove past. So he saw me see him peeing. Second, I didn't know him, yet it felt like I knew him. If you know what I mean. So, there we sat, both of us trying not to look at each other and while doing so, we kept making eye contact and then both quickly looking away. Awkward. I've never felt more relieved to have the nurse come and call us back. And speaking of being relieved...sorry, I know, but I couldn't help it.

Luckily creepy guy was gone when we left. So here is my friendly tip for the day: if you ever have to go to the bathroom really, really bad, try to avoid peeing on your car in the middle of the parking lot. It is creepy.

Watch out, this isn't pretty.

I need to look and see how many times I write about my trips to Walmart. It's rather embarrassing. I think I almost got escorted out by security today. But I swear it wasn't my fault. I went to the customer service counter and boy was I mad. I was livid. I took the Black and Decker hand vacuum I had just bought less than an hour ago and dumped the contents of the black "dust bowl" container on their counter. A pile of cigarette butts, animal hair and crud sat in a pile between me and the customer service employee.

"It's disgusting, isn't it!" I told her, possibly a little too loudly. My hands were shaking and I could barely control myself. Another employee came over and asked if she needed to call security. "I just bought this and when I got home and opened it, all this filth dumped out all over my kitchen counter!" I explained quickly before anyone had time to call for back-up. "I'm trying not to throw-up," I added, it was disgusting!

The employees finally understood that I was not a crazy person. "Wow, I'd be mad too!" one of the ladies admitted while the other employee started writing up a complaint. They both apologized to me repeatedly, but it still didn't make me feel better. Well maybe dumping it out on the counter did a little.