It's firearm season here in Michigan -- meaning hubby has gone deer hunting with his son, leaving me with the kids.  I'm at their beck and call, no option but to escort them to birthday parties this afternoon and cater to their needs on my own in spite of other demands I need to fulfill.

Somebody is going to owe me in a BIG way when he gets back from the peace and quiet of the northern woods.  It just doesn't seem fair that I'm the one having to go to these screechy, loud events each fall, held in the armpit of western civilization.  Yeah, you got it, I'm going to McDonaldland.

McParty.

McYippee.