The Walrus

Okay, so this is what I looked like last night.  Sort of.  Add a mouth guard, some crazy hair, two dark circles, my Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire book, and we're golden. 

I had just drifted off good and was getting going in dreamland.  I'm pretty sure I was fighting a dragon over a golden egg, when a scream jolted me out of sleep--my scream.  I was screaming out loud and everything, over the tremendous roar of a dragon!  Which wasn't really a dragon (duh), but my dog bark/growling at my very fat cat, who had made a risky jump for it from the hall, over the dog, onto our bed and landed on me--with his very fat cat body.  Well, when I screamed, it of course woke The Hubbs and made him jump really big, and get in the Ninja crouch on top of the bed, all ready to take a dragon dooooown.  It was pretty impressive. 

And really scary! I saw my heart come out of my chest shaped like a heart too.  That really does happen.  So after we yelled at the dog, comforted the cat until his big tail went down to normal size, checked on the kiddos (somehow they can sleep through their mother screaming bloody murder at Midnight, but wake up when the neighbor opens their garage door three doors down at 5:00 a.m.), we settled back in. 

It took me a while to calm down and stop shaking.  I couldn't believe how much my dog sounded like a dragon. I heard The Hubby chuckle.  It was already funny to him.  Then he said, "So that's your scream?"

This reminded me that I totally thought I couldn't scream anymore.  I've tried.  We're always making fun of our little girls that scream like little girls very well.  And when I try to imitate them, it totally doesn't come out like a little girl scream.  If it comes out at all, it's kind of like...like...a walrus.  Have you ever heard a walrus?  You should Google it if you haven't, cuz it makes this story better.

I was sure that's where The Hubbs was going with this.  He continued to chuckle to himself, reliving the whole episode. Embarrassed, I said, "What, The Walrus?"  Laughing, he said, "No, it was a good scream--very high pitched and shriek-ey."  He was proud of me. I can still scream like a little girl--if I have to.

This & That

In an effort to keep blogging, despite the lack of time I have right now to sit and write out everything that's been going on the past couple weeks; I'd like to share things, via pictures.  It's quick (you have things to do) and each pic says so much.  If not, just make it up.

This year's Christmas tree.  I wanted to find a tall, skinny one to fit in the family room this year.  We usually have a big one up front, but we spend all our time in the family room, so it was a goal this year. Isn't it so cooooozy? You want to come over. It's okay, if you call it a Snoopy tree too.  I might love that.

I would like this dress for Christmas, Santa.  Given that it costs over $300, I figure it would be better if you got it for me, versus The Hubbs.  I know I'm probably only going to the neighbor's house for New Year's Eve, but Momma wants to look special. Did I mention I'm in deep looooove with this dress?  It makes me kinda happy.  I would hug it.  For you, I'd even wear it to PTO meetings and grocery shopping.  I would wear this sucker out. Thanks, ahead of time.

Me & My Dad.  I just have nuttin' but loooove for this guy! I am so much like him in many ways (we're Taurus's) and I love being in the position to share my life...my kiddos...with him as an adult. He has a great sense of humor and is reeeeally good at growing Amish beards (not shown in this pic, but stay tuned for the Christmas day pic).  He also plays a maaaad game of Hucklebuckle Beanstock with the kiddos.  Good grandpa.

This is my girls looking all sweet (cuz I made them).  They appear to like one another, so soak it in while you can.  This gingerbread house was totally a kit.  The gingerbread part was ready to go.  All we had to do was frost it and decorate. It took a...veeery...looong...tiiime. I've decided I have no skills whatsoever in frosting things to make them look like anything other than globs of frosting.  I got an "A" for effort and then gladly passed the job over to the girls.  So this is all them.  Which I flipping love.

This is of the girls and their cousin after a dance recital. I apparently need to read my camera's instruction book, cuz all the actual recital pics turned out too dark.  I am very upset about this, but needed to have "proof that we were there". So here you go (see the stage they are sitting on?). Yes, the pajamas are their costumes. The boots aren't part of it though. I promise, they are real life daaaaancers, with tap and ballet shoes and errrrrthang. :)

O was in a school play version of The Nutcracker this week! It was quite special, indeed, but you're gonna have to imagine it, cuz THE PICTURES ARE TOO DARK. (Please refer to to the previous photo and notice the ballet shoes in this one.)

Stage.

The Fans.

I have a weekly date with this Rock Star. I get pretty grumpy if I don't get to see him. He's kind of awesome like that.

O's Santa Letter.  Hope Santa's on the ball!

A-girl's Santa Letter. Don't we always want a puppy?

Well, I actually have things to do too.  So I'm gonna go and do that.  And then tell you about it, in pictures and big, bold, sometimes slanted words. 

Momma Needs A Nap

Okay, I seriously need to blog a lot, so that my last post gets pushed down and maybe even to the next page, cuz it's creeping me out a little every time I see the Reborn pics. I probably could've used one pic to get my point across, versus twenty. Also, also, it's making me want a newborn.  A little baby boy newborn. Not a Reborn newborn, a real, keep-me-up-all-night-and-drain-every-last-drop-of-energy-and-beauty-I-have-left-but-dang-they-smell-SO-GOOD, wonderful newborn baby boy. And that is REALLY creeping me out. (smiiiiile)  Instead I will blog and sleep.

Speaking of sleep.  I'm tired.  Like dog-tired.  I knew it was serious when I went to tuck A-girl in her bed and actually climbed in, under her covers and positioned not one, but two pillows to make myself comfortable.  I let the girl read the whole book to me, which is usually excruciating coming from a 6-yr-old who just learned how to read.  Slow as molasses. 

Then I went in O's room and repeated that whole scene.  I even pulled the second blanket up and got real cozy.  We snuggled.  It's her favorite. 

Then reality flipping crept in and I remembered I still had lunches to make, a coffee pot to set, a dog and cat to feed, laundry to fold and the garbage and recycling to take out.  Dang. 






It is just that crazy holiday season that makes the Go, Go, Go even more so.  You all know what I'm talking about, cuz you're doing it too.  Aren't you tired?  I'm not gonna be all Scrooge, cuz I loooove Christmas.  It's my favorite.  I love sitting in the family room all cozied up on the couch with just the Christmas tree lit.  I love taking the long way home to see Christmas lights. I love seeing Christmas trees tied to car roofs. I love Christmas music. I love Eggnog lattes.  I love online shopping and especially love the gift wrap option.

I don't love getting stuck at the stop light for THREE lights in a row, to turn into Target. I don't love the mall normally and won't even look at it during this time of year.  If I don't see it, it's not there. And the post office gives me hives. That's about it.  I love everything else about this time of year.  Though I'm probably forgetting something...cuz I need sleep.

Oh yes, sleeeeep.  Just typing that out, makes me jealous. I'm just thinking about the day I have in store and it's making me upset, cuz I need to not be blogging right now.  This week has been nuts.  With all the regular stuff I have to do as a single mother (cuz the hubby is never, ever here)--plus the dance class, dance recitals, the Christmas rush, carpet shampooing, school play, unclogging the toilet--I have all this PTO stuff going on.  Today, I deliver cookie dough all over Portland.  I have to cross bridges and everything.  I even have the PTO duties on Saturday.  It's movie night at the school, so I may be able to squeeze a nap in there. My only day "off" is Friday, of which I will fill up to the brim with stuff I actually want to do, like drive in my car with a friend and get coffee and absolutely not go to the mall or Target or the school or over bridges.  Maybe we'll just nap in the car, in the driveway.  I think I can talk my friend into this.

This is another indicator that I need sleep.  I slept on the couch last night.  Not like dozed off (which is the norm), but crashed.  I fell asleep watching Ghost Hunters (also a huge indicator that something's off, cuz I turn into a werewolf if I miss this show) and woke up at 3:00 a.m.!  Never, in the history of Sunshine has that happened.  I was so upset, cuz I love my bed.  It's good.  Plus, it's weird shutting down the house, turning off the outside Christmas lights and turning on the dryer at 3:00 a.m. I don't know why it's weird, but that thought occurred to me. 





I'm daydreaming about January.  Which stinks, cuz #1, it's January and #2, I love Christmas.  I really do.  I just want to enjoy Christmas like you do when you're eight-year's-old, is all.  I want to wear feety pajamas (not really, I didn't even like them when I was eight), beg for candy canes every five minutes, open the little window on the Advent calendar and get really excited over a little window-sized piece of terrible chocolate, tell you what I want for Christmas, and just show up. Plus, you could care less about naps when you're eight.  That trumps it all. 

Let's Be Real

It's been a pretty low-key week.  Still busy as ever with the kids, dance classes, PTO stuff, Christmas shopping, Christmas decorating in and out and all around (I need a wreath for the car--errrbody's doing it), winterizing the house and the normal hum of our routine, just not too much *extra*, if you know what I mean.  This week I subtracted a coffee date (I missed my French toast latte with B and The Boy big this week) and added a Civil War game (Go Ducks!  Go Beavers!--I love everyone, which makes me a platypus), Bunco and a nap at Barnes & Noble (thanks Jen), so you know, it all works out.  Can you believe that's "low key"?  'Tis.

Okay, I totally have to write about this, cuz I saw it, and I can't stop thinking about it.  That's when I know it goes to the blog.  I was switching around on the telly (my pretend British accent, cuz I'm about to tell you a British tale), and came upon the BBC channel, and a documentary called, My Fake Baby.  I stopped, immediately pulled in (pushing the Tivo button as I knew I'd want to show this to someone).  It is here I was introduced into a world I had no idea was out there.  I am so sheltered.  And normal. 

Apparently there is a very good sized market out there for these dolls called, Reborns.  They are dolls made to look incredibly real.  They are exquisit, beautiful, dolls that will absolutely make you siiiigh, and stir your maternal instincts.  They are that good.  Doll collectors adore them.  They can be custom made with birthmarks, little newborn scratches to their face, forcep marks, dimples, crooked pinkies, real hair, heartbeats, breathing mechanisms, can be weighted and pretty much anything else you can think of that would make a doll look real enough to pick up, cradle and sing to.  They are amazing.  Amazing, I tell you.  I called my girls down to watch it with me and we all went a little goo-goo. Little bit.

And then...and then, here came the world I had no idea existed.  Apparently there are people that will go out in real life with these dolls and pretend play that they are real babies.  They will buy car seats, strollers, bottles (filled with liquid fabric softener, so that it doesn't go moldy) and go in real life situations (playgrounds, restaurants, shopping, etc...) as if these dolls are their children. 

One couple (yes, I said couple, like not only is there a woman who is doing this, but a married woman with a partner that will do this with her), were at an aquarium with the doll and had someone take a picture of them with the doll in front of the shark tank.  What?  I'll type it again, WHAT?! 

This poor woman even went as far as to fly from Britain to Washington D.C. to "adopt" a "baby girl".  She even went shopping for a take home outfit and paid just under $300 for one little designer outfit.  (faint) While in D.C., she spent a couple days "bonding" with her baby, only to realize that her baby had a crack on its head, which made the doll (cuz as soon as she saw the baby had the crack, it pretty much became a regular old doll again) useless and the woman returned home empty handed, and completely distraught. 

What is GOING ON?!  Okay, look, to each their own. This poor woman isn't hurting anyone. I know there are probably many reasons why people would do this.  I don't even want to think about what I would do if I lost a baby.  I won't even go there.  And really, these dolls are amazing!  The six-year-old little girl in me WANTS ONE (or eight).  But two seconds into that thought, reality settles in, as it should, and all these bells and whistles start blaring that I'm bordering crazy.  Do not go there.  And like a normal person, I don't go there. 

I can just imagine if I popped one of those dolls in a sling and went to my girls' school to do my PTO duties,  "kid in tow".  For a second all the peeps in the teachers' workroom would melt, cuz they'd really think I had a baby in there (I didn't even know you were pregnant).  Then they'd realize and it would become very uncomfortable and awkward and they would be patting my back and saying, "Awwww, poor thing," and then, in a big group, they'd all go see the school counselor to discuss an Intervention For Sunshine.  Or I'd get fired.  But I'm a volunteeeeer... I'd still get fired and The Crazy would go on my record and I'd have to move. By myself, cuz my hubby don't like crazy.

I don't want to move.  I like it here.  So I'm totally not getting a doll.  And don't you do it either.  Now go look at these pics and do not get sucked in and go crazy.  Just look, be amazed, tell your friends, siiigh at great length and then go back to reality and stay there. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klmhNSu2ZbY

Snippet of the BBC documentary--My Fake Baby

Okay, I'm done now.

"This Is Special"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0WhuikFY1Pg

My sister-in-law and I, thought it would be fun to have a girl's night with our little girls. We made lavish plans to stay downtown at a hotel and take them out to dinner at a fancy restaurant (not Red Robin) and go see the Christmas tree lighting.  Something special. Here's what really happened.

Okay, so you remember how I don't really love the city very much?  Like, it's okay, once in a while, but Momma's a wanna-be country girl at heart.  I knew this going in. But I will try things.  It all sounded fine and good.  Maybe even relaxing. Good memories for the little 'uns. It was a goal. But as soon as I got down there, I pretty much felt like I didn't belong.  Like I had three legs. I was very much out of my comfort zone. That old school Sesame Street song and game kept running through my head, "Which One of These Things is Not Like the Other?"  Yep.  My thermal wearing under her jeans, sister-in-law felt the same. We are sure that none of the ladies in Sex in the City ever wore thermals under anything.  Ever.

We really tried to play it cool though,

Okay, let's just try and be cool city people until we get to the crosswalk. Ready?  Go.




It was really hard.  Cuz going to the city is one thing.  Taking your little girls is quite another.  Whatever freakities we had on the other side of the river, were amplified about 20X with Them Little Girls in the city.  Taking a walk in the suburbs is totally not taking a walk down Burnside and 3rd.  Nope.  Here's some random kid comments for ya--

I smell corn dogs.
It smells like dog poop.
Can we go now?
I'm starving.
My tummy hurts.
What was that?

We managed to brave the city streets and walk everywhere. We left the men and cars at home. So much to see and experience.  So much to touch.  And when I say walk, our kids don't really walk, so much as run, skip, twirl, stomp, tightrope-walk along the curb, pretend like they are in Mario Cart, spin around every single pole, touch every single 4ft high surface, and jump in every single suspicious puddle. Just totally oblivious to everything. **Inside joke--"We don't need a limo, we've got the short bus."** Which brings me to the freakities.  This is what the moms sounded like--

Don't touch it.
Stop touching.
Get your fingers out of your mouth.
Get off the ground.
You're too far.
Be quiet.
Sit on your bottom.
Put your tongue back in your mouth.
Did you just spit?
O.M.G., you just spit!
No one is allowed to push buttons anymore.
Zip your coat.
Put your hat on.
Move.
Walk.
Pay attention.
Focus.
Stop.
STOP.

It was exhausting.  At one point we called the husbands, who were at the Blazer game, and told them to pick the kids up on the way home from the game.  We were kidding (sorta), but it really got us thinking that next time, the dads get the girls and the moms go to the Blazer game.  That would be better. We also realized that there were some points of our adventure, that we really could've used the dads.  Like when we were sitting in the hotel room and needed snacks.  Dads are really good for running out and getting snacks.  And at the Christmas tree lighting this is what my little one sounded like the entire time--

Addy:  Can we have hot chocolate?
Me:  In a minute.
Addy: I want some hot chocolate.
Me:  I'll get us some in a minute.
Addy:  I'm dying for hot chocolate.
Me: (ignoring)
Addy: But you said we could have some hot chocolate.  I really want some.  Hot chocolate is wonderful.  It is so warm and tasty.  How about I go get it. I know where it is. Please get me some hot chocolate.  I want hot chocolate.  Hot chocolate. Hot chocolate.  Hot Chocolate. Hot chocolate.Hot chooooocooooolaaaaaate.
Me: (crying a little bit)

See, that would be a fantastic time to have a dad around.  The dad is also good at waiting in enormous lines and somehow balancing eight hot chocolates all at once.  Dads are good at this.  I, am not. 

After the tree lighting, we walked to a Starbuck's far, far away that didn't have very long lines and I was an inch away from ordering hot chocolates all around, when Addy-girl piped in, "I'm hot, I want some juice."  She got hot chocolate.  Dammit.

You'd think that once we got back in the hotel room, we'd be able to unwind, relax and start to have fun. Let the fun begin! Then that whole Three's A Crowd came into play.  So we were refereeing until bedtime.  My sister-in-law brought her book to read and reread the same three pages all night.  I knitted the same six rows over and over.  So relaxing.



The next morning we decided to walk down to VooDoo donuts and end on a high note.  We had never been and heard great things.  Lemme say right here that Portland has a bunch of homeless people.  A bunch.  And lemme also say that I never have cash on me.  It's a rare thing, but since you have to tip for everything in the city, I had some cash.  We got coffee for the trek to VooDoo and I felt bad for a lady that was standing outside the coffee shop.  I gave her a couple dollars.  Then felt immediately bad for the ten other homeless people standing around, but I had little girls to monitor and had to get back to that. 

So we get to VooDoo Donuts, which lemme say is not in the best part o' town.  Nope.  And there was a really long line running down the block outside of it.  It was seriously like waiting in line for New Moon.  We were in line 30 seconds and this guy comes over and asks if I have a dollar.  And since I never have cashola and I actually did (it was a sign), I gave him a dollar, and he then asked for more.  I then cut him off.  Carry on, Mister, you're scaring me.  So we seriously have to wait in line for a good twenty minutes.  Right alongside five dumpsters and the glorious smell of things and Lysol trying to cover up these things.  I wish I could've taken a picture of that smell for you.  VooDoo should really do something about that, cuz by the time I could actually get a donut, I didn't even want one (mine is still waiting in the bag, on the counter to be eaten).  But this is the best part.  When we finally get into VooDoo, there's this sign--

That's just great.  I am so done.  I've reached my limit with the city.  Time to go home to my clean, clean, clean, really smells good house, take a hot shower and take a nap with my dog.  That is all I want to do now. 

Despite all of that (does it seem negative up there?), and one of the kiddos adding, "160,000 button toys to her Christmas list," the kiddos had the best time ever! We heard them telling the dads and the grandmas all about it. Apparently they had no idea the freaks their mothers were.  Somehow, the goal was achieved.  And this is all so very funny...now. I do think it would have been an entirely different blog post for you about the city if I had gone without my precious, precious children.  You know, like on a date or just out with my sister-in-law.  Maybe.  Then again, maybe not. Carrie Bradshaw, I am not.

Happy Thanksgiving

A couple years ago, my aunt gave the girls a book called, Grateful Hearts Give Thanks- A Treasury of Graces and Blessings.  It was the first thing I thought of when I woke up this morning, and I thought--blog.  I'm big on listening to myself, so I dug through Addy's bookshelf, to find it. 

Today, like most of you, we're having the family over.  Both sides. We are so fortunate in that all of these different personalities, ages and heights (that's an inside joke of which I should really blog about on another occasion, cuz it's pretty good) can get together in a small setting for hours and leave still liking each other. 

I laugh.  I do, but this has been a hard year.  The economy, distance, health issues, and tragedy--we went through a lot as a family. It is our faith and our love for one another that gets us through right this minute. I know that's true. I am so thankful that we can still smile, laugh until it hurts, and find the good.   

Our Heavenly Father, we thank you for this food, the roof above us and for this family.  Help us remember that a family is for growing up in, for going away from, and for coming back to.  It is for loving concern, for helping each other through happy times and sad.  With Your blessing, this family will always be together in our hearts and in our memories, giving each of us the strength to live our own lives and to be our own persons.  Amen.

Virginia Backus

You know I have to end with funny, right?

Which one's the turkey?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Willy-Nilly

I feel like I need to blog, but nothing earth shattering has really happened since the last time, so I'm just gonna throw some stuff in here and go random. 

Before I start, on the eve of Thanksgiving I'd like to say something I'm thankful for (the random could get a little cranky). 

I'm thankful for Bill Engvall and George Lopez.  They've been doing their jobs WELL distracting me lately, when music just won't do.

My List of Random:

*Okay, so not only have I lost the spell check button in Blogger, now I've lost the underline button.  Just what is going on here?! 

*I don't trust my dentist.

*Why do all the batteries and all the light bulbs go out at the same time?

*I think I'm wearing Olivia's socks.

*I lost my Costco card and I need rolls, in bulk.

*I'm almost done Christmas shopping.

*I could really use an explanation.

*I kind of want to beat up Jennifer's doctor.

*I think I'm FINALLY getting The Look down with my kids.  It only took 8 years.

*How have I been awake 36 minutes and not had any coffee yet?! 

*Why does the cat always throw up five minutes before the guests get here?

*I still don't know what to get Uncle Dick for Christmas.

*I don't really like talking on the phone, but I'll talk to you.



*I learned the most upsetting fact about public restrooms last night reading my Health magazine.  Though the toilet seat is "pretty" safe to sit on (which I still won't), you gotta make sure the toilet paper dispenser is totally enclosed cuz when you flush, stuff sprays all over the TP.  Great. Great, Great, A-Flippety Great.

* Think of me at 8:00 a.m. when you're still in your PJ's, sipping your coffee, in your fat socks.  I'll be at Jazzercise.  I'll be thinking of you.

*Why is it that there is always something else to do, especially when it's 9:00 p.m. and all you want to do is stretch out on the couch and not think, but you remember you  have to makethecoffeestartthedishwasherchangethelitterboxletthedoginputtheclothesinthewasherinthedryerandfoldtheclothesinthedryercheckthekidsbackpacks...and it just.never.ends.

*I agree with Erin that it would be fun to be pregnant again, but only for like a minute--cuz these t-shirts exist--

And these are just good--

I may have gotten a little carried away with the t-shirts right there, but lemme end this on another thankful note.

I am thankful for all that stuff up there, cuz it means I'm still here.

I Want to Renember This

My family is such a wealth of blogging material.  I should use them more.  I've got a couple good little funny stories, care of my children.  I especially love it when they are funny and they don't mean to be.  It's the best.

As soon as I heard this one, I knew it had to go to the blog. Last week, I took the kids out of school to get flu shots.  To put it mildly, they get extremely nervous.  To try and keep things calm, I put on classical music to listen to as we drove down.  At one point, some opera came on.  After a couple minutes of silence, Liv pipes up, "This sounds just like Miss Piggy from The Muppets!" I really had the healthy laugh for that one.  She was completely serious.  And it really did sound like Miss Piggy.  I told Liv, "If only the woman singing heard you say that," and Liv replied, "That's a girl?" Again, completely serious. 

There's more.

Yesterday, I'm driving around (I am noticing that a lot of the funny happens in the car) with my girls just a-chatting away in the backseat.  They are reminiscing about Christmas. Then Addy renembers (this is how she says, "remember"), "one time, we went to this place and there were all these Christmas trees lined up and there was this fancy restaurant, but we didn't go in, renember?" That's about all she gives us to go on. Liv and I are trying to help her out with suggestions of what it was we went to--The Festival of Trees (literally loads of Christmas trees lined up), Sunriver (otherwise known as, Christmas Heaven on Earth)?  Was it in Maryland? The mall? She tries to sprinkle in little things that don't help us out at all with renembering.



She finally gets totally frustrated with us and says very exasperated like, "Uuuugh, you guys never renember anything!  I renember all the old days!"  The girl is six.  Loving that so much.

Don't Get Me Started

Yesterday my sister-in-law, niece and mother-in-law came over to bake a huge amount of Christmas cookies.  While the kids planned little mini-shows for us upstairs, we dug into the flour, sugar and eggs and caught up. Usually there's a good chunk of time between our last visits, so there's plenty to talk about.  The first topic of conversation was of course, New Moon.  Had to be.  It's what everyone's talking about. My sister-in-law and I had seen it together the night before, so it was fresh.  We were still excited. 

Side Note: I was a tad more excited than my sister-in-law was, but she was doing a pretty good job.  I almost had to Facebook Status Update in the middle of the movie, "My sister-in-law is ruining this for me," because she kept laughing throughout the movie, especially when all the rest of us we're sighing at great length or cat-calling at the sights before us. 

So anyway, we gots to talking about it, and very quickly we realized that anything Twilight related is gonna have to go on the list of "Things Not to Talk About"--right under religion, politics and s-e-x. 

Side Note: I love my mother-in-law to pieces, but she is one of those peeps that when you're watching a movie together and a s-e-x scene comes on, she goes and does laundry--even when she's at my house.  It's really cute.

So whilst my sister-in-law and I were replaying the New Moon events of the previous evening (mainly werewolf muscles), I ask my mother-in-law if she has read the Twilight series.  She's a librarian and reads for sport.  She knows a lot.  She basically responded that she read the first one, but couldn't get into it. 

Silence.  Awkward silence.

We just looked at her in amazement.  Then the librarian in her came out and she proceeded to break the story down and said, "It's all about control."

Silence. 

She went on to dissect Twilight (into tiny pieces) of how much control Edward has over Bella.  She didn't like that.

And then I just had to say stuff.  Look, I'm an English major (don't let the spelling errors and lack of grammar fool you) and I'm used to breaking down the words, and turning them inside out and reading between the lines and errrrrthang.  But come ON!

How about the love story part?!  Didn't that get you just a little?  How about the, I'll-do-anything-to-be-with-you-even-if-I-have-to-become-a-vampire part (A VAMPIRE)?!  Look, I'm not even into vampires.  I swear this.  My sister, who at the time had read each book six times each and seen the movie a-very lot, peer pressured me (we might've wrestled) for months to read the books.  She took me to the movie before I read the books and I was HOOKED--on the love story.  The intensity.  Edward. I couldn't get my hands on the books fast enough. All those books are an escape for us romantics. Heavy on the distraction. Heavy. It's not the blood and gore and fangs (cuz there's really not a lot of that going on--I didn't see one fang).  It's the looooove.  L-O-V-E. Shoot, I'd become a vampire for that. 

Control.  What??? What are you saying to me right now over the Snickerdoodle dough?!  You need to read that book again and get yourself distracted. Do you even realize what Edward sacrafices for Bella in the next book?  Control.  Pfffft.

So, we totally had to stop talking about it, pass the Vanilla Extract and move the conversation to safer ground, like what everybody was bringing for Thanksgiving. 


Recipe for Snickerdoodles:

http://www.bettycrocker.com/recipes.aspx/snickerdoodles/7ffc92a9-d847-4869-9ecb-99de3b751b14?modalclose=1

I Just Need To Be Irish Already

Okay, I can't just go see Michael Flatley's, Lord of the Dance and not talk about it.  That would make no sense in my world.  I would also like to show you a picture of my hubby that I cannot for the life of me find.  He does a fantastic impersonation of Michael Flatley.  He made the mistake of showing it to my family at Christmas one year--tie wrapped around his head, just a tap dancing, head flipping fool he was--and has never been able to live that sucker down.  I really think he'd leave me if I did put the pic on the blog.  So it's his lucky day.  Dang, it's really funny though.

Anyway! I've decided that I have missed yet another calling in my life--Irish dancing.  Yep.  Should've been born in Ireland and started Irish tap dancing at the age of two.  As soon as the lights go down and they cue the music--chills.  Everytime.  I also cry at such things.  Like--I can't even see the show, through my wet, wet, wetty-wet tears.  I just don't get that reaction, you know, when I'm helping my 3rd grader with double digit subtraction.  Or balancing the checkbook, or filling out real estate and insurance documents, or even making like the perfect meal (one where I catch my little ones licking their plates). Nope...no tears.  Not one little goose bump.  Ever. 

So my mom, sister and I got to see a bunch of amazing dancing the other night.  Cheesy, yes.  But the amazing-ness of it far outweighed the oh-my-gosh-that-was-so-cheesy.  All the women were beautiful--like too good to be true beautiful. Flipping Irish. It made me feel 83% better when I noticed that all of them had the long, shiny, fake, hair.  Good.  I needed something, cuz they were breath-taking, tiny and they had out-of-this-world legs!  Not only am I going to tap dance everywhere I go now...I will point my toes.  That should do it.

And the men--I had no idea I had a thang for tap dancing men. I surprise myself every single day. I couldn't even see faces from where we sat (fourth row from the tip top) and I was loving the boys a-very much.  That was my favorite part.

I don't really even know what was happening.  Something about a boy and a girl and a belt buckle.  I know there was good and evil, cuz there was happy sounding music and then there was sinister sounding music.  And there was happy, twirl-ey, leap-ey, tap dancing and really loud, I-am-so-mad-right-now, muscle-ey tap dancing. There were some masks and fake six-pack abs going on there too (which would have made the hubbs feel 83% better, had he been there, which he would not have been). The good and evil boys dueled--with tap shoes. There were "lightening arms" (as my sister likes to say) and punches in the air being thrown everywhere. At one point the bad boy got the belt buckle, and it was very sad. But before you knew it, they were tap dancing the crap out of each other again.  And I knew the bad boy lost, cuz he just layed down.  Apparently the good guy tapped so.fast. 

The boy got the girl too.  Cue the happy music. My sister said that the buckle had nothing to do with the boy and the girl, and that it wasn't a belt buckle, but a full on belt.  She's very serious when she tells me these things.  I have surely offended someone, by not getting it right, but you know, I was sitting pretty far.  And I was crying.


The Warriors
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmdiPKmji60

The Duel
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zb-7k6h42TE

The Victory
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtIZosYYevg

I'll Take Two Peace On Earth's

For the last couple of years, we've drawn names for Christmas.  Our family is big, so it helps out in a big way in the cashola department, but it does take it up a notch in the thoughtfulness department.  Not that you wouldn't be thoughtful anyway, but now you have to be really thoughtful.  You've just added some time and effort in for a couple people, versus twenty.

This year, we got a bunch of boys.  I need some ideas.  We're buying for a couple of uncles down in California, a great grandpa, and a grandpa, so keep that in mind.  Before you say gift certificates, I would just like to say that I'd like to keep that as a Plan B.  Let's forget coffee mugs too.  And no 2 lb. beef sausages--though delicious--well, just no. Aaaaaand, now I'm clean out of ideas.  Please feel free to help a girl out and offer some good ones. Just tell me what you're getting your uncles in California, great grandpas and grandpas and I'll just copy.  Okay?

Let me tell you what I know about these people though.  The uncles in California, live in California.  The great grandpa is a veteran and loves all things WW2 related, BUT, he already has a ton of that stuff.  The grandpa only wants "peace on earth".  Now you know what I know.  Let the ideas roll in.  Send pictures if possible. (smile)

Now, if you're one of the lucky ones buying for me, I have a couple ideas to make your thoughtfulness 100% easier.  First on the list: C.G. Bigelow lip stuff at Bath & Body Works.  I'm addicted to it, so it's always a crowd pleaser.

Slipper socks. 

Those will do. And if you really, really just want to win my heart over, you can get me this:

I will let you. 

This is where you can find it: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=28600246

Or this one:

Found here: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=9512332

Or this delightful one:

Found here: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=32512321.

Or just any one of Johanna Wright's artwork found here (you pick):

 http://johannawright.com/store/

Because I found her and now I love her.

Or, you know, peace on earth also works. Now go.  You have things to do.