Breakfast for Bimbos

Hey, did I miss something ...like a week. Last time I looked, the calendar said it was August. Somehow September snuck in. The change in the weather is apparent. The nights are a little cooler and I find myself shutting the A.C. off earlier in the evening because I'm cold.

I'm tired. I am babysitting Jordan every other week and taking care of my mom who's recovering from her second hip replacement. She can't bend over and I have to clean her cat's litter box every day. She is not allowed to drive yet, so I have to drive her or run errands for her. I don't mind doing it because she means alot to me and I am very grateful to have her in my life.

What I really don't care for is the ritual of going to breakfast on Saturdays and Sundays at the Village Inn. I can handle Saturday, but Sunday just about does me in. Sundays we are joined by my sisters, (the twins). (Saturdays we only have one of the twins to contend with and she is pretty docile without her wombmate). They tend to forget that I am the oldest of the siblings and by far the wisest. They have taken to calling me Mother Teresa, because according to my Mom, I can do no wrong and am just wonderful. My Mom is my biggest supporter and I'm obviously her favorite child. My sisters can be downright rude and obnoxious to the point of actually whispering and giggling in the booth like stupid school girls. The hefty harpies should see how ridiculous they look when they behave that way. On top of that, they also are very rude to the waitresses. They seem to forget that these poor people are handling their food and could very well retaliate. Let's all give a shout out to the friendly waitresses and busboys at the Village Inn who have to put up with obnoxious customers like my sisters. YOU GUYS ROCK!