Dude, Where's My Card?

Have you been stalking your mailman, camping by your mailbox or anxiously pining away for our family's Christmas card/picture/brag sheet? Well, you are not alone. We didn't forget about you. We forgot about EVERYONE.

Let me explain. We didn't forget. It just didn't happen. Very sorry. I hope you can make it through this Christmas season without our annual greetings.

But we have LOVED getting all of your card/pictures/cute letters. If you haven't sent yours yet, we won't hate you, yet. You have until December 31 before we are officially offended. But don't think that means you are getting something from us. If you feel like this is an unfair deal, just remember that it's Christmastime and it is always better to give than to receive.

As a token of our appreciation and goodwill to our friends and family I will bestow upon you the great honor of viewing some of our Christmas preparations in the form of photography. (These aren't just pictures anymore, now that I have my fancy new camera. They are Photographs.)

Christmas cookie mess making, I mean decorating. To avoid the overly-accessorized-to-the-point-of-inedibility cookies of years past I set a new rule this year: if you don't want to eat it, no one else will. Sprinkle, red hot and frosting usage was kept quite tame.

What Christmas would be complete without a visit to the temple to see the lights? Add some friends and warmish weather and you've got yourself a memory!

A morning at the park is just what the doctor ordered to stave off the excitement and subsequent energy of it being almost Christmas.




The kids have made up new games based around Christmas and our tree. Taking the packages out from under the tree and organizing them into piles or rows is called "Santa's Elves" and pretending to surprise each other with the presents is another one they call "Special Delivery"

Next year will be better. You'll get a card.

Merry Christmas!

Bob Dylan singing Christmas?

I'm not the only one with low tolerance for certain "Christmas" songs. We had the local all-Christmas-all-the-time station on in the car (Dee-Lie-Lah, could you be any more annoying?) when the overly played, slow drumming beat began. From the second row #2 yells out, "Drummer Boy again? I hate this song!" It may have something to do with the disturbing, stop motion movie from the the '60's called "Little Drummer Boy" that he had recently viewed. I guess I'm a spoiled Pixar sort of girl now, but those clay-mation figures lurching around are something out of a nightmare! It's no wonder he dislikes that song.

Since my last post several friends have confessed to disliking other apparently popular Christmas music: "Last Christmas" by Wham and "Feed the World" with U2 were mentioned in the comments. "Christmas Shoes" is hated by another friend of mine ("met my old lover at the grocery store..."). I usually flip the station before it gets further than that but once I was forced to endure the entire song while I was shopping, you got it, at the grocery store. I'm still trying to recover. And then there is that horrible song that starts with John Lennon and Yoko Ono whispering "happy Christmas" to each other in bedroom voices. My mind automatically recalls that album cover where they are standing naked next to each other and then I feel like I'm listening in on their intimacies. Yuk.

I've been playing Andrea Boccelli's new Christmas cd a lot lately. I really like the mix of the playfulness of some of the songs with his classical, mellow voice. And I think "The Lord's Prayer" with the MoTab is one of the most beautiful interpretations of that song. But #2 cannot get enough of his "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town." He has listened to it over and over. For Nana, Grandma and anyone else in love with #2 enough please enjoy his 50 second cover of Andrea Boccelli's cover of "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town. For the rest of you, please indulge me and give me a laugh today by adding to our most hated Christmas song list. Or if you think this effort is too scroogey, then tell me your favorites.

I've Got My Work Cut Out For Me

I spent some time with #1 on Saturday Christmas shopping. I love getting #1 all to myself. She is interesting, makes jokes, discusses heavy topics, and never, ever minces words. Most of the time I appreciate this quality about her, I like honest directness. But as you can imagine, speaking her mind has gotten her into trouble. I'm trying to teach her a balance of being both sensitive and honest.

So back to my story. While Christmas shopping several things were revealed to me:

1) #1 is Catholic. Apparently she's been telling her friends at school she is Catholic. Note to self: emergency FHE!!!!

2) She knows the word sexy. Yikes! #1 was in the dressing stall with me while I tired on some clothes at the Banana Republic outlet (the entire store was 50% off!). I zipped up a pair of pants and #1 said, "Sexy, mom." I didn't want to react too much so I asked her if she knew what sexy meant. "It means pretty." "Ok," I explained, "it means a little bit more than pretty and I think you should avoid saying it." "Can I say it just one more time?" "Fine." "Sexy pants, mom. I like those sexy, sexy pants. They are sexy." "That was more than once." "What? You're the one being sexy."

3) #1 really loves me. For my birthday she gave me the gift of "being nice to #2 from now on." Last night she snuggled in my lap and gave me a big hug then whispered something in my ear. "I'm changing my birthday present to you to kisses and hugs every day. The other present was too hard."

So you can see, I've got my work cut out for me.

Our Thanksgiving

Please indulge me while I experiment with my new (birthday) camera:


Cornbread drying for the stuffing. I grew up eating cornbread stuffing and Thanksgiving just isn't right using regular bread crumbs.

Apple pie with crumb topping

The before the feast, feast. Only kids and stuffed animals invited.

All my food, displayed for your viewing pleasure.

Yes, that is #2 tearing into a turkey leg.

Not to be outdone, #1 claimed a leg.

5 hours of cooking. 20 minutes of eating. 60 minutes of cleaning.

While we were cleaning up, #3, 2 and 1 were making a fort in #2's closet. As a child I remember getting into all kinds of mischief during that restless period of time between the turkey and the pie, while the adults were oblivious chatting and cleaning up.

Half baked

I would not have ventured to the grocery store yesterday, with #3 in tow, if we had not been out of milk. But when you're outta milk, you're outta milk. I circled the parking lot until I found a spot, unloaded #3, steeled my patience and started for the door. We had not walked ten paces before I noticed a gangly teenage boy (who can tell how old they are?!?) approaching us on one of those bikes that are way too small for grown people to ride. He had one of those ugly looking trucker-type hats perched on the top of his overgrown, unruly curly hair and was sporting a black t-shirt with 'BAKED' printed on the front. I thought to myself, "I wouldn't be surprised if you were, ya freak." (Baked, that is). I know, you are all surprised that my heart is not full of charity all the time. Well, now you know.

Normally I avoid eye contact and just keep walking when a strange person approaches me in a parking lot (especially when I have kids with me). But surprisingly, I felt unthreatened by the clown on the bike, so I was unprepared for his request.

"Can I have fiddy-cent?" Just like that. Like I was his mother. Like it wasn't even a question, just a statement.

I stammered, "Uhhhh. I don't know..... I ...."

Maybe it was because of his youth, or maybe it was because he asked for a specific amount, but for some reason without thinking I opened my bag and found fifty cents.

Suddenly, as if coming to my senses, I realized I was about to give a punk (not a poor homeless person) money, I thought to ask. "Why do you need this?"

He answered flatly, "I just need fifty more cents so I can get the foot long at Subway."

I handed him the change and I couldn't help but laugh as I watched his puffy hair and precariously balanced hat bob away on his child-bike through the parking lot. What nerve! What genius! What an original idea!

Inspired by little-bike, clown hair dude I have discovered how I'm going to pad our Christmas budget this year:

1) Ask people for money

a) in specific, small increments

b) tell them what it's for (a digital camera for my daughter's Christmas present)

c) don't beg, plead or even appear to need help

d) expect them to hand it over

To my interstate, intercity and international readers, please feel free to use my proven method for lining your pockets. But for those of you in my zip code, beware. There's only room for one middle-class, mom beggar in this town and that Fry's parking lot is mine!

Do you remember...

the day you learned to ride your bike?








feeling like a beautiful dancer?


turning seven?


Happy days.



PS. Primary program is over. Whew! Sorry. No funny/embarrassing stories to report. Although it would have been good fodder for this blog, I'm grateful things went off smoothly.

before these get too stale and since I don't have anything else to write about today

Halloween '09

#1, #2, Princess Leia and her father Anakin

#3, a little freaked out genie

The CTR pumpkin was #1's idea. The rest of us are not that righteous.

Since this post is pretty lame and very short I'll give you a bonus picture of #1 at her fall break cheer camp. She's the one standing in the back.


Something to look forward to: our primary program is Sunday and we are not ready. We have one practice left on Saturday and then it's show time. I'll try to remember the most awkward, embarrassing and horrible moments and then recount them here in a witty and humorous way. Or if my prayers are answered I'll have nothing but good things to report. Pray. Pray real hard for us.