How about that…

This afternoon, Todd, Hannah, and Patrick went with the youth group from our church to a weekend retreat in Gatlinburg. For whatever reason, when they leave, I get an almost overwhelming urge to take the four remaining children out to places I’d usually try to avoid dragging them. Tonight, after we delivered meals to two families, the kids and I ventured out for some shoe shopping. This time it was Andrew’s turn and he was sorely overdue for a new pair. Like I usually do, before even entering the store I went over my expectations with the kids and reminded them that good behavior was the only acceptable behavior. Last time we went to the store, the boys were corrected by the clerk for running up and down the aisles while I was distracted actually trying to shoe shop with another child. How dare I attempt to concentrate for more than a minute at a time, right? We talked about sitting or standing next to me instead of bolting down the aisle, looking with our eyes instead of our hands, and using voices reserved for most people who don’t use hearing aids. Then we went in. Although it started out rough (“Mom! We ran up and down that aisle and there were no foot measurer thingys!!”), they soon found a spot so I could help Andrew find a new pair of shoes. It actually turned out to be enjoyable. We walked through most of the store and looked for shoes for everyone, though we didn’t find much else.

Just before leaving, a mom with a baby in a stroller walked past us, caught my eye, and asked, “FOUR!? Wow!” In that instant, I debated with myself whether it was worth telling her that there were two more not with me, but trusty Brendan jumped in and exclaimed, “We’re just the four with her!! There are really SIX of us altogether!!” Most of the time, I hear snarky responses such as “Better you than me,” or “You’ve got your hands full!” or the one that makes me cringe everytime: “Don’t you know what causes that?!” This mom, however, said none of those. She simply declared, “Well, I only have one! I’d better pull myself together! They’re all well behaved and you look fantastic!” We chatted for a minute longer before she went on and I gathered my herd and continued to the checkout. After she was gone, Brendan whispered, “That was a nice compliment, Mom! She thinks you look good and didn’t say anything rude about us having too many kids!” I could only laugh and agree. It was a small little lift that even a nine-year-old caught. He’s probably already forgotten it, but for someone whose love language is words of encouragement, it will go a long way and will be remembered for quite some time.

Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.(Proverbs 16:24)


The Worst Analogies Ever Written in a High School Essay

Another friend posted this on Facebook today, and I want to have a more permanent record of this hilarious list. Some of them caused me to laugh out loud, nearly hysterically, and then I proceed to go all the way to coughing and sputtering. Chest congestion–combined with humor like this–tends to do that to a person. This is also funny on a personal level as I strive to teach my budding writers about a well-written simile and metaphor. Some things may have to be caught, not taught.

This was taken from if you’re interested in reading more.

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.

He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty Bag filled with vegetable soup.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and “Jeopardy” comes on at 7 p.m. instead of 7:30.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.

Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like “Second Tall Man.”

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

Rainy day = Soup craving

It was a dark and rainy night…. Sounds sort of like the start to any number of mystery novels, right? For me, it was an evening that called for soup for dinner. Growing up, I don’t remember liking soup that much, and up until a few years ago, I didn’t prepare it too often for my family. Lately, however, I found that soup is not only a tasty but usually an economical way to feed our family. Although technically I created this recipe myself, I definitly borrowed from others I have made in the past. If it appeals to you, I hope you enojoy making it! One of the reasons I’m posting it is because of the low cost and the fact that the ingredients may already be in your pantry or fridge. It’s nothing fancy or involved, but there are days when simple is all I want to prepare for dinner. Pantry cooking is something I’m trying to do more of this year, and I’ve met with varying results and success. There are days where I feel like Old Mother Hubbard, but on the whole, I can usually find 3 or 4 items that can be combined with fresh or frozen ingredients to create a hearty dinner. I will say, though, that the cook n’ serve chocolate pudding casserole with quick cook oats and diced tomatoes was a definite fail. HA (I’m kidding! I’m kidding…)

I estimated that this recipe, which yielded my stock pot oven full and gave us dinner and leftovers for lunch the next day, was around $8.00. I had 2 lbs. of ground turkey in the freezer that I bought on sale for $.99/lb, purchased the egg noodles for $.99, got a pound of baby carrots for $.69, had a couple ribs of celery in the produce drawer and leftover onion from the day before, added two cans of cream soup to thicken it at $1 or less a can (I stocked up on these between Thanksgiving and Christmas when they were dirt cheap), and used my chicken soup base for the broth. I added breadsticks to serve with the meal which were about $5.00, keeping the total cost of this meal under $15. If you have a family smaller than ours, of course you can halve this recipe and still have good results. I’m used to cooking for a herd, so I just kept my amounts to what I’d used.

Turkey Noodle Soup

2 lbs. ground turkey, cooked and drained
1 lb carrots, shredded (this can be adjusted to taste and preference)
1 onion, minced finely
2 celery ribs, sliced finely
16 oz egg noodles, cooked for half time specified on package and drained
10 c. water
chicken soup base (you could also use canned chicken broth or homemade equal to 10 c.)
2 cans cream of chicken soup
parsley, salt, and pepper (I also added minced garlic, because I have to)

Bring water and base (or broth) to a boil, reserving about a cup of broth. Add shredded carrots, celery, and onion to the pot and continue to boil on medium heat for about 10 minutes or until carrots are tender. In a separate bowl, combine cream soup and reserved broth and whisk together until smooth. Reduce heat to medium low, then add turkey, noodles, and cream soup mixture, stirring well. Add parsley and seasonings to taste. Heat thoroughly and serve with green salad and breadsticks, if desired.

When the Planets Align, Be Prepared

Everyone is entitled to a bad day now and then, right? It’s just when eight 5 and 6 year olds decide to coordinate their bad day that moms (and tutors) seem to get into trouble, or at the very least be in for it. I believe yesterday was that day. The coordinated attack, whether it be a flash mob sort of spontaneity or a methodical, well thought out plan, was prolonged, thorough, and exhausting. The boys of my homeschool co-op class seemed to be of one mind during week 15 and their motto could have been ‘Today is a good day to die, and we’re going to take the tutor lady down with us!’

I should have seen the signs coming from when the first couple of boys arrived in class. Two of them were crossing swords about what they drew on their whiteboards during free drawing time. Before class proper begins, I have square whiteboards for the boys to draw on, partly to encourage them to practice their map drawing skills, and party to distract them from the fact that our classroom is well stocked with toys that they aren’t allowed to play with during the duration of the morning. These two boys argued about the content of the free drawing, with one contending that the other shouldn’t draw such frightening people. Usually I’m not the lone adult in the room, but yesterday it was just me and the boys for several minutes. I absentmindedly reminded them that they should always speak kindly to each other and went about the hurried preparation that usually fills up the precious few minutes between our morning leadership meeting and the opening assembly. They wholly ignored me. From their beginning talking points, they quickly moved on as other boys trickled into the room. Boy A used his black dry erase marker to create a picture of himself with Boy C, tacitly leaving Boy B out of the drawing. When Boy B asked why he wasn’t in the shot, Boy A sweetly replied, “He’s my buddy.” Wow! I took the opportunity to stop what I was doing to make a more pointed assertion about how kindness is required in my classroom. Yet, though irritating and rather unnecessary, this wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary when two or more children get together. I do have six of my own and know well how any of one them can get a burr in their boxers at any given time.

By now, almost all of the class members had arrived and it was time to line up to go down the hall for the opening morning assembly, but what’s this? A visitor and his mother arrive! Of course, on today of all days (and maybe we’ve stumbled upon the root of all the unrest?), CC is hosting an Open House to give prospective families a taste of what a day with our group can be like. Silently and fervrently praying, I plead that the past few moments are not prologue to the morning ahead. I try to welcome the boy and mom warmly while attempting to keep tabs on the boys of my class, all of whom are now wrestling to see who gets to be at the head of the line. That’s a fight I’m not even going to step into at this point, though. There are bigger issues to consider, and the one first in my mind is the trip to the sanctuary. After 14 weeks (and really, it didn’t take that long to realize), I remember that these boys equate a quiet hallway with an open pasture and just long to run through it, every single opportunity they have to do so. Despite my weekly reminder as we stand by the door, they just can’t seem to control themselves. Sometimes they make it halfway down the hall before one of them loses all vestiges of self control, and those are probably the good days. Regardless, once one of them breaks free, the rest consider that an open invitation and the remainder of the short trip from our classroom to the sanctuary ends by me trying to rush ahead of them to refrain them from bursting through the doors of the sanctuary and blowing our cover. Even so, we make it to assembly in one piece.

Our class sits in the front row, and I think the main reason for this is that our activity and fidgeting keeps the other classes both entertained and facing forward. Today’s main attraction seemed to be that all eight boys attempted to squeeze into 3 chairs, and everyone wanted to sit next to me. Still, we somehow made it through assembly with nary a scratch. Mercifully, we were dismissed first. For a description of our exit, re-read the preceding paragraph because really, it was just the same in reverse.

New memory work time, the part of the day where I introduce what the children will be memorizing and learning about at home throughout the week, was an exercise in patience to the highest degree. In our program, moms stay with their children, but sometimes they have other responsibilities which take them from their child, or they have several children and have to split their time between different rooms. At any one time in our class, though, there are usually 3-5 moms, except during the six weeks we studied the tin whistle. Strangely, each week between 10-10:30, my moms silently disappeared… (I’m kidding; they were always there to sing along with my yelling out the notes and encouraging the boys to properly place their fingers on the whistle.) This morning, the room dynamic was even more varied. Not only did we have a visitor, a lad who was considerably younger than the boys in our class, but also a dad who had come to step in for his wife and take over her duties as classroom mom. He ended up being a wonderful help, but I think at first he was intent on scoping out the scene and trying to take it all in. What he was taking in, however, were my boys scrapping on the carpet where I had asked them to sit quietly so we could go over our work.

They just could not sit still. While this is not mind-blowing news, especially if you have a couple of boys in your house, today was over the top. They touched each other (my own son was repeatedly punching another boy’s arm as the boy laughed), they touched my teaching materials and presentation board, and one even unplugged my CD player. Even before we really started, I was mortified at the thought of what the visitor mom had to be thinking. “What IS this place!? And why are these boys so crazy?!” It’s funny now, but not so much at the time.

Sometimes I wonder how much more work we could actually accomplish if I didn’t have to constantly stop and say, “OK, pay attention. Remember, eyes on me means you have to actually be facing in my direction! Please stop sticking your finger in your neighbor’s ear!” and on and on and on. At one point, after nearly losing my cool, I stuck a piece of yellow sticky tack on the tip of my nose. The boys found it on the table I use for my books and were all enamoured with trying to grab it. I figured it held their attention better than I had so far in the morning, so I attached it to my nose. This gave me at least one subject’s worth of their concentration. After I removed the tack, however, it seemed to be a lost cause all around. My helper dad seemed to have the revelation that no, it wasn’t OK for the boys to be tussling and sitting on each other when we needed to be reciting our Latin conjugations, so thankfully he jumped in to serve as crowd control. I lost more of them altogether after showing them the hand motions for two timeline cards which involved making and pointing a pistol made with their hands and then shooting it. For the rest of the new memory work they were pointing and shooting (even despite my constant reminder that pistols made with your hands don’t make noise), and at one point I had to exclaim “Holster your pistol!” to one of the boys.

After our new memory work, we moved on to art, which necessitated a trip up the stairs and–you guessed it–down another hallway. This time the boys did a little better, but mostly because we had moms and a dad strategically placed throughout the line. While we waited to go into the art room, I gently offered to the visiting mom that she was welcome to visit any class and age group that she desired to observe. Though they stayed with us for our art project, she and her son moved to the younger class afterwards for the rest of the morning. I pray they had a good experience during their visit, but never did get the chance to speak with her afterwards.

As scattered as the boys and the morning felt, the 30 minutes that we spent on our art projects was probably the most enjoyable part of our time together. It’s always so interesting to see how the boys approach the “assignment” and they each had a good time painting their landscapes and showing their artistic sides.

The time flew by, however, and the cat herding began once again. First we had to get them all together, collect their paintings, and shuffle them back downstairs.

Our schedule is regimented and so after art projects, we had a few minutes to enjoy a snack (you’d think the boys were never fed based on how often they ask when it will be snack time!) before their presentations. I was looking forward to this week’s offerings, since the boys had been assigned the task of memorizing a short joke or funny story to share with the class. My son happened to be first, and despite reciting that joke repeatedly for his family throughout the week, not only did he botch the punchline, he totally forgot it. It was humorous in and of itself. And, if you can even believe it, the next two boys in line to recite their presentations had memorized the exact same joke. How is that even possible!? Of all the jokes in all the world, two boys in my class of only 8 children who almost never have contact with each other outside of Monday co-op managed to choose the same one joke. It boggled the mind, but there it was. The rest of the recitations went off without too much of a hitch. Surprisingly, these same boys who can wake the dead when they’re supposed to walk silently down the hall have to be repeatedly reminded to speak loudly and clearly during presentation time. By all the moms. (Did I mention repeatedly?)

The weekly science experiments came next in the schedule, and I was excited because the experiments we had on tap looked like they would appeal to boys. We reviewed our science sentence for the week before beginning, showing that when the boys sat still, they were exemplifying “potential energy,” but when they were acting crazy on the blue carpet, they were showing us “kinetic energy.” Let’s just say there was a measureable amount of kinetic energy in our room throughout the morning… All through our science time, I answered the same questions over and over, and questions not necessarily related to science. “No, you can not use the scissors to cut the book.” and “Yes, I like lasagna.” were more typical of the answers I gave. We conducted one experiment to see whether a roll of masking tape, two jar lids taped together, or a marble would roll the fastest down an incline. It was a great visual until the boys wanted to try it themselves, and then it dissolved into shooting the marble and chucking the tape roll down the incline to skew the results. Laughable, really. As we cleaned up the supplies and returned them to the box, the boys started begging me to keep a marble.

“Why do we have so many in the bag?” they inquired.
“I think Mrs. S (the director) wanted to make sure we had enough in case any were lost,” I reasoned.
“Well, can we each have one?” one boy asked.
“No, guys. I’m pretty sure Mrs. S wants to find them all back in the bag at the end of the day,” is what I said. “I’m fairly certain they’d find their way into your mouth or nose and I’m not trained to fish them out,” is what I was thinking.
“What does she need 8 marbles for anyway!?” another whined.
“Do you like lasagna?” still another asked.


By this time, it was 11:30 and we had roughly 30 minutes left until lunch. Cue the almost constant questions interrogating me whether it is lunchtime, when it will be lunchtime, and if we will at any time be allowed to eat lunch ever again. I think my classroom moms, at this point, would have been quite agreeable to spend the remaining time allowing the group of kinetic energy bundles continue the experiment with the paper circles and cones while we sat and maybe even assumed the fetal position. Dropping a paper circle and a paper cone repeatedly from the same height to see which one falls faster could certainly keep them occupied for a while longer, not to mention the hats they were making out of the cones. Add in some finger pistols from back at timeline cards time and you got yourself a time killer! Alas, since I’m contractually obligated to perform certain duties, one of them being review time during one 30 minute period, and since I had a potentially fun review game I was anxious to try out, we set aside our exasperation with these boys and their propensity to wander off both mentally and physically and forged ahead with the game. Based on a tip from our director, we used a Cooties game to review several weeks’ and subjects’ worth of material. I had my mom and dad helpers sit at a station with different subject flash cards and the boys, each equipped with a bug body, travelled from station to station in small groups. After answering each question, they received a piece of their bug to help assemble it. It seemed to work well in theory, although the boys really meandered here and there instead of waiting for me to tell them to switch stations. Chalking it up as par for the day, if we play the game again, I’ll go over my expectations with the boys more clearly and perhaps that will help the time to move more smoothly. It was a very effective way to keep them engaged, however. When I glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost noon, the boys didn’t want to quit their game until they completed building their Cooties. That was a ringing endorsement!

And so it ended…. Week 15 was in the books after we disassembled the bugs and returned them to the boxes. The boys scrambled to get their lunches and clambered their way to the front of the line on their way upstairs to the lunchroom. I wanted to collapse into a kid-sized chair and take a few deep breaths in the quiet. Andrew always eats lunch with his buddy upstairs and I got a report later on that he and his friend spent almost the entire lunch period playfully wrestling with each other at their table. This news did not surprise me. What did surprise me, however, was that later in the day when we listened to the history sentence while driving in the car, Andrew could sing along quite accurately. Was it possible that in between roughhousing with his friends and staring at the ceiling and perusing through the bookshelf, he was actually taking in the many pieces of information that he heard that morning? Hopefully he wasn’t the only one.

As I was talking to other moms and tutors later that day, it seemed that my class was not the only one to be wired and squirrelly. Apparently it was a campus-wide epidemic. I definitely witnessed it in Patrick’s afternoon grammar and writing class as well: the students (and the moms, really, of which I was one) were inattentive and wired. A full moon, perhaps? Could an Open House upset the flow of our group that much? Upon reflecting on it later that night–and cracking big T up with my rendition of how my morning had gone–it dawned on me. If you read my post back in October when our class tried to create a scaled down model of the planets, you’ll know what I’m talking about. I think, finally, my planets had aligned, and when the planets align, you’d better be prepared.

Muffins for the Masses

This weekend I had the opportunity to “cater” a party. My brother-in-law and sister-in-law celebrated their birthdays (which occur on the same day, a factoid that continually tickles me) and because it was the bro-in-law’s big 4-0, his lovely wife wantd to celebrate in larger-than-life fashion. She planned a party with their friends to mark the occasion, and somehow over the course of the week, while she and I discussed food options, I offered to prepare all the food for the party for her. Remembering that it was her birthday too, and knowing that she was going to be working her tail off to get everything ready, it seemed like a good idea. And, I can’t lie: I’ve secretly entertained the idea of catering an event, despite the reality of not having the kitchen or the supplies for such a job (without even delving into the lack of training). In any case, she jumped on the offer, and the deal was set.

Because I’m both a creature of habit and a creature who avoids trying new things almost at all costs (ask my husband how I dealt with the strange food choices while we lived in Korea), I stayed close to the foods I’ve made before, mostly for my childbirth class. I knew roughly how much everything would cost and approximately how long every dish would take to prepare. On Friday night, Todd and I went grocery shopping for all the ingredients. Beginning at 9:00 am on Saturday until I had to take a shower at 4pm, I worked continuously, realizing that my time management left something to be desired. Ben jumped in and asked to help several different dishes, however, so that saved quite a bit of time. At one point, Todd remarked that “if you were on the Food Network, I think you’d receive a negative comment about how you’re not keeping your station clean….” It was true. I was moving from project A to project B and wasn’t taking too much time to clean up after myself. Clean up would come later, I figured. It would have been helpful to have two dishwashers and several more cooking bowls throughout the day, but it worked out just fine.

All in all, somehow everything got done and the party seemed to go off without a hitch. The food received positive reviews and my only regret of the night was that I made too much of one dish and should have doubled another. We shall see if I ever get the chance again, but it was definitely fun for me! I don’t even remember snapping at my family throughout the day of cooking, so perhaps it was enjoyable for them too.

This short story is all prologue to the recipe below. I woke up this morning and went about my day, feeling as if I only had the usual prep to do for my Monday class at the homeschool co-op. Then I remembered I had volunteered to make some blueberry muffins for our open house. Even though it had been totally out of my mind, whipping up two dozen treats seemed like a cake walk (ha ha, get it? cake walk?! Sleep deprivation has come to my house!) after feeding close to 30 the night before–actually, it was probably 27…I should have counted. I have been anxious to try this recipe all week, especially since the reviews were so glowing. I was also out of eggs for a good portion of the week, so they had to wait until today. I think they turned out rather delicious. I changed the recipe only slightly and did half whole wheat flour and half white flour. For ease of preparation they get 5 stars and 2 thumbs up. The one I tasted almost straight out of the oven was heavenly. Maybe you’ll feel the same way…

First, you need a cute helper. This was mine. She constantly asked if she could taste the batter and told me repeatedly that it smelled good.

Cream a respectable amount of softened butter and the root of all evil, sugar, together, and then add an egg and then a fair amount of milk. At this point, the batter was almost alarmingly runny. Because of the positive reviews, I continued on, mostly unfazed.

After adding the flour, baking soda, and an eyeballed amount of salt, the batter stiffened up considerably. In fact, I started second-guessing myself and wondered if my helper had distracted me from correctly adding the proper amount of flour. Still, we carried on.

Once I folded in the blueberries, it was downright difficult to stir. I had frozen blueberries, so it really chilled the batter quickly. Be prepared to spoon the thick batter into your muffin tins, rather than pour it.

I doubled the recipe and it made enough to amply fill 24 tins, which I lined with paper covers. By this time, I’d lost my helper’s interest–and my helper. “I’m gonna hop down from my chair, Mama, and go see what A-drew’s doing!” That’s OK; filling the tins is pretty much a one-person job.

After baking for a little more than the recipe called for, here is the finished product.

Blueberry Muffins

3 T. butter, softened
2/3 cup sugar
1 egg, beaten like you mean it
1/2 cup milk
1 1/2 cups flour
2 t. baking powder
1/2 t. salt
1 to 1 1/2 cups blueberries

Cream together butter and sugar. Beat in egg, then add milk and mix well.

Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. Mix into creamed mixture.

Fold in blueberries. Turn batter into greased 12 cup muffin pan or line with muffin paper liners.

Bake in 350 degree oven for about 25 minutes.

While still warm from the oven, brush with melted butter and sprinkle with coarse sugar. (I opted not to do this)

Makes 12 regular sized muffins, as you expect since that was all we were asked to grease or line.

Muffin heaven.

This made me laugh out loud…truly…

The child was a typical four-year-old girl — cute, inquisitive, bright as a new penny. When she expressed difficulty in grasping the concept of marriage, her father decided to pull out his wedding photo album, thinking visual images would help. One page after another, he pointed out the bride arriving at the church, the entrance, the wedding ceremony, the recessional, the reception, etc.
“Now do you understand?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said, “is that when mommy came to work for us?”

Quality control needed!

To those of you who know me, I am deeply entrenched in all things related to grammar, proofreading, editing, and writing. That’s not to say that my writing and grammar are always perfect; in fact, there will probably be a spelling mistake or two in this post, mostly because it’s the topic of the day. In any case, I always enjoy editing and correcting other signs and writing whenever possible. There’s probably a disorder name for people like me and a long acronym that goes along with my disease, such as PWCRCOPG, or People Who Can’t Resist Correcting Other People’s Grammar. Perhaps they’re already working on a cure or at least a drug for it, and upon its release, I’ll flatly resist taking it. Somebody’s gotta be out there, keeping poor spellers and modifier danglers on their toes! If not me, who?! If not now, when!? If not the red pen, what!?

OK, so I’m a little over the top; I freely admit it. But I have been given a passion for language and I can’t help but use it. Take for example the above picture another Facebook friend posted earlier today. I think it speaks for itself in not only its error, but also its double meaning. Exactly what area of “quality improvement” are they going to begin with? Perhaps hiring a spell check guy?

In any case, here’s my challenge to you: I know the guys and gals around this “commetee” table are coming up with some ingenious ideas for how to improve quality, and I’d like to have your input as to what they’re saying. Please add your caption ideas to this group (especially the one with a match over her head…and about that…aren’t you supposed to light a match under someone?! but I digress….) Don’t worry about spelling or grammar, by the way. I’m looking for humor. 🙂 What do YOU think they’re saying or thinking?

Have fun!

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