I'm not telling you anything. . .

A short while back, Sourpatch, gave some rules of blogging.  She said to post everyday and post about anything.  I feel like I need to post about something specific, not just how my day was.  That's why I'm NOT telling you about my day.  That's not how I roll.

What Christopher, Cutie Blanco, CharChar, and I did today, well, that's between me and my peeps.

I won't tell you that we go to Spanish class every Monday to Senor Lucio "Cutie" Blanco's house (his middle name is not cutie, he just happens to be quite old and Mom and Jessica think that makes him cute).  I won't tell you that the last two weeks Mom let Christopher drive us in the Jimmy (a kind of car) but that she went today because the Jimmy stalls and dies at a dangerous curve on the route there.  I won't tell you that she bought me a jar of yummy peaches while she was at Schnuck's during our class, and that more than half of the jar is gone already.  

I won't tell you that I went to the Babbs and watched Charlotte so Matt could cut the yard while Jessica and Mom were at the longest VBS meeting  e v e r .  I won't tell you Charlotte knows who Bob is from veggie tales and whenever she saw him she would shout "BOB"!!

I won't tell you that Mom and I still had to go to Kroger afterwards, and that maybe because it was late and we needed to get home, that we had some level of difficulty finding green chilies, stewed tomatoes, and ricotta cheese.  We had no trouble finding ice cream, mind you, - something NOT on the list.

I won't mention how the bagger chick (we won't just blame her, every bag person does it), as apparently required by law, filled our cloth bags accordingly by the rule of "everything heavy goes in one bag, and toilet paper and bread each get their own.....".  Thank goodness Christopher came out to the car and brought the groceries in.

Of course, you won't know any of this because I'm not telling you.