Thursday, December 31, 2009

It’s the End of an Era. Or, a decade, Anyway

As I stand poised, on the precipice of the year 2010, drink in hand, loved ones nearby, I feel the need to express gratitude for our many blessings.

2009 has been decent to us, we have a roof over our heads, food in our bellies and friends and family in good health; a lot of people can’t say the same and, my heart goes out to those people.

I have high hopes for 2010. I look forward to meeting new challenges; new friends and my husband at the door, naked save for a thin layer of Saran Wrap.


Hugh would never agree to wear Saran Wrap.

I’m also looking forward to watching the kids as they enter into a new decade, the last time that happened they were one and three and the changes they have gone through in the intervening ten years are mind-boggling; I cannot imagine them at the end of this coming decade but I look forward to seeing how they turn out. I'm guessing, well.

I'm looking forward to spending another year with my husband; after seventeen years together, I'm finally figuring out how his mind works. It's a dark and scary place but, I'm a brave soul.

I’m also fairly confident that, by the end of the decade, we will be flying about in hovercraft. I know that sounds about as likely to happen as the world’s super computers rising up and killing us all in our sleep but, isn’t that what everyone got so worked up about prior to Y2K? And, ok, so that didn’t happen but hovercrafts are a valid technological possibility.

I read it in The Enquirer.

Anyway, I hope your New Year’s Eve is festive and safe. We plan to grill a few steaks, steam a load of crab legs and watch movies with the kids in between competitive Wii bowling and hoola-hooping.

Because, we know how to send a decade out in style.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Nothing Says Fun like Taking the Twins to a Taffy Pull

My mammogram went as expected; I got naked, felt up, pressed into a medieval torture high-tech device and pretty pictures were taken.

One thing I didn’t expect was actually getting to see the pictures as that isn’t something that I was allowed to do last year. For the record, my boobs? Clear as a bell. At least, as far as I could tell utilizing my crack medical degree from Google Medical University.

And, while I need to wait for the official thumbs up from my gynecologist, I’m relatively confident that I am healthy (although, I do realize that making a statement like that is just begs Fate to screw me over. Sorry, Fate! I didn’t mean it! Please don’t strike me down with the boob cancer, k! Thkx!).

So, in the past month I have had my gums scraped, the depths of my girlie bits plumbed with something resembling a mascara wand and my breasts smashed into road kill. A sane person might space these types of exams out a bit over the course of the year but; I like to schedule my field trips all in December so that I can look forward to starting the year fresh, without having to lie back and relax, swish and spit or hold my breath for ten seconds while shooting a PG rated boob film for an entire twelve months.

(Ok, PG-13; my boobs may have been sandwiched between Lucite plates but they are still worthy of a PG-13 rating.)

No more exams until December 2010; barring any unfortunate snafus, obviously.

Fate, I’m looking at you.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

As Predicted, YeeOuch!

My hamstrings, quads and butt are so sore today, I have a hard time walking up and down our stairs. Did that stop me from running three miles on the treadmill at the local gym? It did not. It may have been responsible for the whimpering and gnashing of teeth during the entire three miles, however and; to the lady on the treadmill next to me, I’m really sorry about that.

I predict even more soreness tomorrow and, in an epic bit of fabulous planning on my part, I also get to endure my annual mammogram so; it won’t just be my lower body that hates me come tomorrow evening.

Oh, and if you are wondering if I followed my own advice in scheduling the exam, oh, hellz no; I am smack dab in the middle of PMS Territory.

I am a genius.

And, sore, did I mention sore?

Monday, December 28, 2009

Tomorrow Is Going to Hurt Like a Sumbitch

I just finished exercising, a feat that I have not accomplished in many a moon and; I’m feeling it. During one set of back lunges, my leg cramped up so hard, I thought it was a contraction. In my leg. Like, I honestly wondered if my leg was spontaneously producing a baby leg or something and, the scary thing is; that made perfect sense to me at the time. That is how out of shape I am; I hallucinate while lunging.

Some of you might be wondering why I suddenly felt the need to get with the program again (it isn’t even the New Year yet! Technically) and, to you I say; I suddenly got the urge to get healthy again when, while at my parents home this past week, I tried to bend over to retrieve an object that had fallen from the kitchen table and something got in my way, preventing me from reaching the floor. It was my stomach.

I’m not even kidding. I suddenly have a roll of fat around my waist so thick, it rivals my butt. Seriously; I have an ass on my waist.

To say that I find this turn of events disturbing would be an understatement, I assure you.

So, yeah. Back on the diet and fitness wagon. Hopefully, sometime in 2010, I will have one less ass (in its' correct placement upon my body) and will be fully capable of bending over.

Or, I will continue to live a life of sloth and gluttony and my family will eventually have to hire a crane to remove me from my bed.

I'm guessing you know which result I am hoping for.
Home Again

Hugh, the kids and I got home yesterday following a fabulous week with my parents, siblings, nephews and niece. Our trip was uneventful save for The Teenager’s sudden need to vomit about twenty minutes after we left my parent’s house; apparently, Dramamine needs more than a few minutes to kick in which we will do well to remember in the future.

We arrived home to a cat who was most pleased to see that we had returned, no doubt due to the low level of food in his automatic feeder; I’m guessing he was concerned that a few more days may pass without our return and he might have had to actually skip a meal. Heaven forbid.

In addition to the frantic mewling of the cat, we had to deal with the suspicious absence of water in our household. Hugh crawled under the house, fearing the worst (burst pipe) only to find the crawl space bone dry and warm. His first call was to the supervisor of the Petticoat Junction Public Works department and, he was fortunate enough to not only catch the man at home but in a relatively cooperative mood.

Within minutes of the call, the supervisor was at our house and had discovered that our meter was frozen. And, that the pit the meter sits in was not properly insulated or sealed after our driveway was poured over it earlier this year (a job his department was responsible for). Had the meter broken, we would have had to tear out a large section of the driveway to replace it. As it was, the supervisor was able to thaw out the meter using a hose attached to the tailpipe of his truck (hellooo, Redneck) after which he insulated and sealed the pit properly and, water runneth again in Casa de Chelle.

In other words, we got lucky.

Or, the town of Petticoat Junction got lucky because, really; if we had to tear out part of Hugh’s beloved driveway because the Public Works department failed to adequately seal our meter pit, Hugh would camp out Boy Scout style on the front steps of City Hall until the town agreed to pay for the repairs and, no one wants to see Hugh’s bed head every morning.

You can trust me on that one.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Twas the Night Before Christmas and All Through the House, Not a Creature Was Stirring...

...unless you count a hyperactive six year old, an equally hyper eleven year old, two teenagers, a Maltese, a Labrador, a Chiweenie, and a hamster in an excercise ball.

Oh, and three grown men stirring bourbon into eggnog.

 In short, lots of stirring going on. Let's hope they all settle down in time for Santa to make his big entrance.

Fingers crossed.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

God Bless Us Everyone!

Hugh, the kids and I made the trip to Mayberry yesterday with a carload of gifts, two kids totally drugged up on Dramamine, a hundred and five pound labrador retriever who can't be trusted at home alone and a six ounce hamster that The Teenager insisted on bringing with us because she was afraid it would starve to death in our absence.

For the record, the cat waved goodbye from the front window and I have every reason to believe he is planning a wild party while we are gone. On the other hand, with the exception of the random hairball coughed up on the carpeting, he does manage to clean up after himself so, more power to him.

And, I digress.

Despite its' size, we ran out of room in the back of the Tahoe right around the time the dog kennel was loaded and had to resort to storing suitcases on the roof for the first time in our traveling history. Our inexperience in that arena showed when, Hugh labored for over an hour, tying down the suitcases and had just finished his last Boy Scout knot when it occurred to us that the car might not make it out of the garage door with the extra height.

It's ok, we squeaked by with a quarter inch to spare but; you can imagine the numerous Family Vacation jokes I could have made had we not.

The rest of the trip was anticlimactic and we arrived at my parent's house just in time for Hugh's birthday dinner of steak and baked potatoes.

Today, my mom and I finished up some last minute Christmas shopping. We went to a favorite antique store and I discovered a treasure trove of old books, including a first edition Dickens Christmas Carol which I snapped up for a ridiculously low price, according to Google.

Later this evening, after honoring our family holiday ritual of popcorn ball making, I am hoping to connect with one of my old roomates for some wine and retelling of the Old Stories.

Tomorrrow, my younger sister arrives from Denver and my older sister and her family arrive from down the road. We are going to decorate a gingerbread house with the kids, cruise the neighborhood looking at lights and try like crazy to sneak the Santa magic by the little ones who still believe, all of which I am looking forward to like Tiny Tim looked forward to his lone Plum Pudding.

God bless us everyone, indeed.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

The Best Gift Ever

I am, as I have mentioned before, Catholic. Yes, I’m about as fallen-away as a Catholic can get without actually renouncing the church, the doctrine and the existence of God, himself, but I am still Catholic at heart (According to Spell-Check, I cannot, however, SPELL catholic, go figure). So, if you know anything at all about the religion, it should come as no shock to you to learn that I attended catechism classes as a child.

For the most part, I do not remember much about those classes, but there is one year that stands out.

Mrs. Atencio was my CCD teacher when I was in the sixth grade. Every Wednesday I would walk from the school to her house along with six of my Catholic classmates. We would study our lessons, read scripture and each week Mrs. Atencio would make a Herculean effort to apply bible verse to our real lives, God love her.

One Wednesday, early in December, Mrs. Atencio announced that we would be taking a field trip to the local nursing home. At the nursing home, we would spend time with the residents making holiday decorations and singing carols while Mrs. Atencio played the piano.

Now, to our wee little brains, this sounded like a most excellent way to get out of reading verse and learning about the world according to the Catholic Church. It would be a blast.


Yeah, not so much. In reality, the nursing home, with its garish tinsel garlands, fake Christmas trees and putrid smell of disinfectant and, I don’t know, DEATH, gave us all the creeps.

Mrs. Atencio, however, was unfazed by our lack of enthusiasm. In fact, she viewed our lackluster attitudes as a challenge; she was determined to break through what she viewed as our selfishness. She pointed out that, unlike us, many of the residents were alone in the world without so much as a family member to visit them at Christmas. Most of the residents would receive no gifts nor would they leave the home to be surrounded by loved ones on the holiest of days, the day for love, family and fellowship.

As a remedy, Mrs. Atencio instructed us each to pick out and “adopt” a grandparent that day. We were to visit our “grandparent” each Wednesday before Christmas and on our final Wednesday, we would throw a party for all of the residents of the home.

I was totally squicked out by the plan, and I was not alone. After all, my friends and I all had grandparents already. What did we need a total stranger for? Being obedient little Catholics, however, we did as we were told without much complaint.

Plus, Mrs. Atencio was more than a little bit scary, but that is more of a Halloween story than a Christmas story, and I digress.

Anyway, as we were milling about the rec. room, I noticed a frail old woman in a wheelchair. She had a smile on her face that had not once wavered since we arrived. This made her seem far less scary than some of the other residents of the home and I quickly decided that she would be the beneficiary of my Christmas spirit. Her name was Evie and she had been in the home for only a few months. She had a son, several grown grandchildren and a great-grandchild but they lived in a different state and she rarely saw them. They would, she assured me however, call her on Christmas. How very generous of them.

I came to know Evie fairly well over the next couple of Wednesdays and, as Mrs. Atencio had envisioned all along, I came to like her a great deal (well played, Mrs. Atencio, well played).

On the day of the party, we were to bring our “grandparent” a gift. The gifts must be something from our homes that our parents no longer needed or used and we were not allowed to bring food because most of the residents were on restricted diets of some sort.

I wracked my brain looking for something to take to Evie. My mom offered up anything and everything that she owned but nothing seemed just right to me. Finally, I decided on a wallet that I had bought on a recent vacation to California. It was a cheap vinyl number with Cinderella’s castle and the word Disneyland spelled out in red lettering. My mother was appalled; she could not figure for the life of her why I would choose a blue vinyl wallet over say, a crystal candy dish, but my mind was set. I had purchased that wallet with my own money. It was the ONLY souvenir that I had from that vacation. It meant something to me and I wanted Evie to have it. The end.

In my mind’s eye, I still see Evie as she peeled the wrapping paper away from that damn wallet. Her fingers were gnarled by arthritis, her hands spotted with age. She cried when she opened it and the smile on that woman’s face was so genuine and loving, my heart swelled almost to bursting. Then she told me that it was the best gift that she had ever received.

The best gift, ever.

Evie passed away not long after that day. I am sure it was a matter of moments before she was granted wings in heaven because she sure was an angel on earth.

Christmas is a time for miracles and, I believe in miracles; I experienced one all those years ago when a spoiled rotten, selfish brat learned that a gift, when given from the heart, could affect another’s life. Because, while that wallet did not change Evie’s life, the gift that she gave me in return certainly changed mine; it was the gift of appreciation for my blessings.

In the end, that was the best gift I ever received.

The best gift, ever.

Monday, December 21, 2009

If This is What I Have to Look Forward to For the Next Four Days, I am in BIG Trouble

I can understand the excitement of the rapidly approaching holiday, I know that freedom from school bondage can be euphoric, I realize that eating three giant M&M cookies followed by a cocoa chaser will probably cause hyperactivity in the most slothful of children but, good LORD; these children are determined to kill me. The energy vibrating from them would be enough to power a small city and, while they are a force to be reckoned with separately; you can only imagine the mayhem they are capable of when united in a common cause (killing me, in case you weren’t following along).

Tomorrow, we leave for Mayberry so; I have a three and a half hour car ride with two crazy-hyper Christmas gremlins to look forward to and, the threat of narking on them to Santa can only go so far. At this point, I feel like I could hold a flashlight under my chin while weeping hysterically about how scared I am.

On the other hand, once we get to Mayberry, I will have back-up in the form of my parents except, who am I kidding? These are the Pod-People responsible for the complete spoilage of each and every one of their grandchildren; they are highly unlikely to pull out the big guns, now. No, Hugh and I are on our own.

It will be a Christmas miracle if we make it to the 25th without bloodshed.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

In a Surprising Twist, Hugh Vehemently Refuses to Wear the Sash and Tiara

On the other hand, he has to sleep sometime.

In another surprising twist, the president of Rocky Mountain Cable called Hugh to apologize for the inadequacies of our cable subscription and, for a brief panic-filled moment I was all Blog stalker! Blog Stalker! Then I remembered that Hugh has been pestering the poor man for at least the past six months and, that, in an unprecedented show of customer service; the man has actually been returning said calls on a fairly regular basis (president of Rocky Mountain Cable, you rock! Rocky Mountain Cable... you still suck).

Hugh’s most recent complaint had to do with the audio and video being swapped between two channels resulting in the audio for something akin to the  Jerry Springer Show playing on the Cartoon Network.

As an aside, you have not lived until you have heard SpongeBob SquarePants call Patrick a stupid, redneck son of a bleeeeep for getting his sister knocked up with his stupid bleeeeping redneck bastard child. Seriously.

The President of the company assurred Hugh that the technical error was being addressed and that our bill will be duly adjusted. So, the service still sucks but, we are paying fifty percent less for said suckage.

And, discount or not, SpongeBob looks phenomenal on a large screen, regardless of the profanity spewing forth from his porous cake-hole.

Now, I am off to rummage through The Teenager's old dress-up trunk for a sash and a tiara; I seem to recall her having them although, on second thought; maybe it was a feather boa she used to play with and not a sash. Hmm....

 Eh, either way.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Is It Really Only Wednesday?

This week is crawling by; I need it to be Friday already.

On the home front, I am still the reigning Cookie Queen. I may, however, still dress Hugh in a tiara and sash just for the fun of it.

In other news, I still have two Christmas presents to purchase as well as a multitude of stocking stuffers to procure before we leave for Mayberry on the 22nd.

The 22nd is also Hugh’s 40th birthday and, much like the little drummer boy, I have no gift to bring (pah, rump, a, pum, pum). All of the ideas that I had for birthday gifts somehow found their way under the Christmas tree (which is what happens when a birthday falls so close to Christmas, or so I am told) and then I got bored with the searching so; no present as of yet. I have faith in my ability to pull it out in the lurch, however and I’m sure I’ll come up with something.

Speaking of which, one thing Hugh really did want was a new TV for our living room and, I would have purchased one had it not been for the fact that he rushed right out and bought one last weekend after spying it at an all time low price in the newspaper circular. So, now we have a gigantic flat screen TV.

The irony of having such a nice piece of technology lies in the fact that we also have the world’s worst cable provider (Rocky Mountain Cable, I’m looking at you); now we can watch truly crappy cable on a truly lovely screen. Irony, the gift that keeps on giving no matter the season.

But, seriously, still only Wednesday?


Monday, December 14, 2009

We’re Having a Heat Wave

44 degrees today. It’s positively muggy outside and, lest you have forgotten that my blood runs thin as water in my veins (ice water); I will remind you that I like heat hence, I’m loving the warmer temperatures.

I even managed to spend my volunteer hour on the elementary school playground in relative comfort this morning, no frozen toes or fingers although; my ass did stiffen up into its’ normal state of a Gluteus Ice-blockius as it is wont to do no matter how warm the temperature (ice water running through my veins, remember). Its ok, I cranked up the seat-warmer in the Tahoe and was marginally thawed out within a few minutes of leaving the school.

So, yes, warmer weather, yay (impending snowstorm, a given)!

The thaw started yesterday, which made our annual family cookie decorating party seem slightly less festive (we usually run the gas fireplace for ambience which, yesterday, would have resulted in less warm glowy Christmas and more hot, sweaty Christmas) but, we soldiered on.

Hugh’s attempts at decorating have certainly improved over the course of our sixteen year marriage and, this year he totally threw down the gauntlet, challenging me to beat him in a cookie vs. cookie duel to the death and, while his early efforts were, I admit, totally lovely and extremely detailed; his efforts as the chore drew on became, shall we say, less impressive as evidenced by this

A wreath-shaped cookie that inexplicably became The Christmas Goldfish.

I know; I’m still reeling from the confusion, myself.

Anyhoodle, here are our best efforts at a reindeer.

If you are interested in voting on which cookie is better decorated, please drop a comment. If not, I’ll simply declare victory and, once again, anoint myself Cookie Decorating Queen. If, by some strange twist of events, Hugh should garner the most votes, he’ll take the title this year and I will eat crow (and I’ll make him wear a tiara and a sash, I swear I will).

I’m counting on you all to make the right (get it, RIGHT) decision.*

Because, if Hugh beats me at decorating cookies, the recent heat wave will be replaced by hell freezing over and, you do not want that on your conscience, now do you?

The reindeer on the right, if you get my drift.

Friday, December 11, 2009

We Don’t Sell Clues, Either

Today, a man openly and loudly berated me for not having any cranberry juice in stock and, Oh, my good heavens, was it because I am stupid? Do I not know how good cranberry juice is for people? He's man's got urinary tract issues and he needs the magical juice of the cranberry so, how can it be that we don’t sell cranberry juice?!! How?! How can it be?!!!

To which I replied, dude, this is a hardware store.

We do sell signs, though and, here's yours

That'll be $1.50, asshole.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

In No Particular Order

I had my teeth cleaned today. I liken the sound of plaque being scraped from my gum line to that of fingernails on a chalkboard.

Tomorrow, I have an appointment with my lady doctor. I liken the sensation of cells being scraped from my cervix to a routine check for strep throat, minus the gag reflex.

I still have Christmas shopping, present wrapping and cookie baking to do. I actually think I might prefer the plaque and cervix scraping to any of those endeavors (and, once again, Scrooge much?).

No more Glee until April. Woe.

It is currently 0 degrees outside. The weatherman says it feels like -15. I think the weatherman needs a swift kick to the nutsack.

Left eyelid, still randomly twitching.

On the bright side, just the other day, a barista at Starbucks mistook the twitching for a wink and proceeded to flirt shamelessly with me over my venti nonfat cinnamon dolce latte.

Sadly, she was not my type.

When I told Hugh that story, he just about peed his pants while laughing hysterically.

He may also need a swift kick to the nutsack.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

Colder than a Witch’s… Well, You Know

Our high today was 15 degrees. I’m not sure what the overnight low was because I was cocooned inside my down duvet, underneath a wool blanket, dressed in long underwear and a thermal nightgown (so sexy!) and could not be bothered to check the outdoor thermometer but; I’m guessing it was cold.

On the way to school this morning, The Teenager bemoaned the newly-fallen cold snow and expressed her fervent displeasure of the frigid temperatures and, I was thisclose to reminding her that the temperatures in Mayberry will be even more frigid when we go there for Christmas but; the image of her nose hairs gluing together in the outdoor air was not one that I wanted her to carry with her to math class, given her mind’s propensity to go wandering off topic as it is.

Speaking of wandering minds…wait, what was I saying? Hugh’s Christmas lights just blinked on outside my window and I was distracted by the shiny…um, so, yeah, have I mentioned that it’s really cold?

Monday, December 07, 2009

Now You're Talking

Twelve dozen cut-sugar cookies, ready for decorating; now it's starting to feel like Christmas.

Sunday, December 06, 2009

Still In Search Of

The holiday Spirit continues to elude me despite watching twelve hours of the Hallmark Channel’s schmaltzy Christmas programming, baking six dozen cookies and making another trip to the store wherein actual gifts were purchased.

Indeed, the closest I have come to touching the Spirit was yesterday when I managed to refrain from chiding the Man-Cub for playing with his Leggos under the tree; watching him perform a detailed and animated exchange between a Leggos Storm Trooper and his favorite Snoopy ornament reminded me of the years that my sister and I would push around the presents under the tree, making room for Barbie furniture for our doll’s amazing Christmas houses and laying on our backs, staring dreamily up through the glittering branches as we excitedly guessed at what Santa might be bringing us.

I might have felt a tear at the sweetness of the memory, it’s hard to tell though because, my left eyelid has been randomly twitching for the past month and, sometimes I confuse the sensations.

Last night, the children left their letters to Santa under their pillows, as is our custom and, this morning; they were greeted by the customary trail of elf dust and chocolate coins. Actually, the Man-Cub discovered his bounty prior to the morning because, during the night, he got sick to his stomach and, following a vomit field-trip to the bathroom, gave in to his curiosity and lifted his pillow. He assures me that the stomachache came prior to eating the chocolates and not after although, a little virus in no way stopped him from indulging in his reward as evidenced by the gold wrappers strewn across his bed this morning.

Since it is the season for mercy, I have chosen to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Anyway, today the children and I are making my famous cut-sugar cookies and, if that doesn’t kick-start the Spirit in me, nothing will.

So, yes, fingers crossed.

Friday, December 04, 2009

The More You Cut It, The Shorter It Gets

Remember back in August when I was whining about my hair stylist moving away? And, how distressed I was at the prospect of finding another stylist? Yeah, well, I never went looking and, as of this week, have gone four months without a scissors touching my hair (except for that unfortunate incident wherein I attempted to trim my own bangs with the kitchen shears, not pretty!).

The bad hair days caused by my inability to motivate myself for the search have been numerous but; today I am actually having a good hair day! It’s like the heavens looked down upon my weeks of suffering and determined that I deserved a small break. Granted, I have no doubt that tomorrow will arrive with a fresh brand of hair hell but, for today, I am happy.

When I mentioned this to Hugh earlier today, as well as the fact that I really do need to find someone new to tame the wayward tresses, his reply was classically Hugh:

Hugh: Nooooo! The more you cut it, the shorter it gets!

Chelle: Like, um, duh? Is that not the point of a haircut?

Hugh: You know what I meant! Aaaaaaargggg!!

And he sounded exactly like Charlie Brown when he said it.

And, that my friends, is the secret to our lasting marriage; I keep him because he amuses me.

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Ghosts of Christmas Cards Past

While trying to come up with some inspiration for our Christmas correspondence this year, I am looking back over our past year’s cards. I am in awe of how much the kids have grown and changed. I am also reminded of how much I generally enjoy coming up with new and interesting ways to embarrass my children now and for future generations; I'm thinking:

“Why, hello Possible Future Significant Other of My Grown Child, would you care to see our photo albums? The Teenager/Man-Cub was such a beautiful child! What’s that you say Teenager/Man-Cub? The pictures are embarrassing? Pee-shaw! Let’s look!”

They might require years of therapy on down the road but, I’ll be able to say that I was entertained.

So, let’s see, well, this isn’t embarrassing at all; this is Hugh and my first holiday card as a married couple. Nope, not at all embarrassing, although, the weeping I do for that waistline might be, you know, just a tad.

Ah, here we go, The Teenager as an only child prior to the birth of the Man-Cub. Still not embarrassing, adorable! The zip-lock barrett on her head is simply fabulous and the fact that our dog looks somewhat drugged merely adds to the uniqueness of the card. For the record, he wasn't. Drugged, I mean.

Also adorable, the Man-Cub’s first family card; in a pumpkin patch because, nothing says Christmas like pumpkins! Yeah, I’m not sure about that, either but, hey! Sunglasses!

Ooh, better! A Christmas card featuring a Christmas tree and Santa and everything! Plus, two adorable toddlers, looking on in shocked surprise as their mother kisses Santa Claus! Or, in shocked surprise at the color of their mother’s hair, whichever.

First foray into black and white. Not bad if I do say so, myself and, not at all embarrassing, also; if I do say so myself.

Ok, maybe a little bit embarrassing but, it’s not like they are lying on a bearskin rug wearing nothing but a Santa hat (those pictures never quite made it to a card, I do have them, however, if you would like to see them Possible Future Significant Other of My Grown Child!).

Ah, classic documentation of sibling interaction. Sometimes, we even let them take the gloves off.

Hands down, the kids’ favorite card, ever. Probably because they loved the pajamas. Now, if they are still wearing said pajamas when old enough to be dating their Possible Future Significant Other, I take neither credit nor blame and, once again, therapy.

The Man-Cub declared the pole in this picture dis-gusting! Except, it sounded more like dis-guthting! at the time.

And, would you look at that; I suddenly have the inspiration to finish this year’s card and the newsletter that goes with it; this is no small feat considering my recent ennui concerning the holidays.

It’s like...a Christmas miracle!

*This miracle sponsored by People Who Like to Embarass Their Children

Tuesday, December 01, 2009

December. Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck

I know, what Christmas spirit I have! But, still, December, already. Gah. I have shopping left to do, cards to write, presents to wrap and, in a move completely out of character for me; out-of-state packages still to mail, something I have usually accomplished by Thanksgiving.

To say that I am feeling scattered and unorganized would be an understatement and, I’m not entirely certain why I am struggling so hard to get into the groove this year.

Maybe baking will help; I’m planning to start this week. You know, when I can find time amid the Man-Cub’s scout meeting, planning my woman’s club’s annual holiday luncheon-which I agreed to Chair waaaay back in May when I was feeling far less disorganized-the wrestling team’s fundraising banquet, my Bunco Christmas pot-luck and a trip to Emily’s favorite jewelry store to scope out possible gifts to her from Oscar. And, while most of these activities are totally enjoyable and I look forward to attending; I’m just not feeling moved by the Spirit. Like, where are you, Christmas?! (as sung by Cindy Lou-Who of Grinch fame).


I’ll get there; it’s just going to take some time. And, sugar cookies. Maybe alcohol but, only if I get desperate.

Or, thirsty.