Perfection is overrated anyway

The days following Christmas are, by definition, something of a bummer. Unless you are having a beautiful baby boy on one of those days, as I was, 6 years ago.

 

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The labor itself was a bit of a bummer.

 

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“a bit of a bummer” here means “nightmare from the bowels of hell“, but we won’t talk about that now.

 

I can even look cute with lettuce on my head!

 

Because coming home with my sweet angel baby was worth the trip to the netherworld to get him.

 

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He’s got the biggest head imaginable, with the cutest face attached.

 

cute-little-man

 

Over the past 6 years, he’s lived up to his angelic name…

 

listening

 

Sweet…

 

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thoughtful…

 

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Fun…

 

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Easy-going…

 

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Being six has not diminished his beauty in the least…he’s still one of the best looking kids I’ve ever seen. All-American. Sturdy. Athletic. Eager to learn. Ready to take on the world.

 

gabe

 

Six years old brings some changes, though, and never has that been more apparent than two days ago when he opened his gift from his grandparents and stated with great vehemence and indignation that it was “A BORING BOOK”.

 

Which pretty much puts him in the running for Rudest Child In The History of My House.

 

So. There’s some work to be done there. But surliness can’t diminish a mother’s love.  Happy 6th birthday, my:

 

gabe2

Merry….oh, you know…!!

I bought these

 

snowflake

 

And my daughters made these…

 

snowflake kit

 

 

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And I baked these…

 

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And then this happened:

 

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Coincidence? I THINK NOT.

 

I’m praising God this morning that the power stayed on and that I got to enjoy this:

 

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from the comfort of my heated, cozy house…ahhhh….thank You Lord…

 

At 8:00 this morning, the living room looked like this:

 

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At 11:19 this morning, it looked like this:

 

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Just in case you ever wondered what Christmas morning at a household of 13 looks like. To be honest, I need a wide-angle lens to capture it properly.

 

Lastly but not leastly,

 

HAPPIEST OF CHRISTMASSES EVERYONE!!!!

 

White or green, may it be merry and bright. And may you discover a sweet surprise under the tree just for you.

Merry Christmas Eve!!

 Hey, all you types out there who are taking “breaks” during “Christmastime” so you can “focus” on “family” and “togetherness”, I have just one thing to say to you:

 

You’re lame! Come on!!! What the heck am *I* supposed to read now???

 

Selfish.

 

My plans for travel have been thwarted by a forecast of snow/ice/wind/weather-spawned-from-the-loins-of-satan, so instead I am here at home on Christmas Eve, and I cannot say that I’m terribly upset. I spent three hours and My Beloved’s paycheck at Wal-Mart (along with the entire population of our town, apparently) yesterday buying ice melt and firewood and sanitary pads and leeks and coffee and spinach and hash browns and molasses and vodka and hemp milk and salmon and noodles and bananas, so it’s all good. Let the snow come! I shall laugh from the safety and security of my toasty little house.

 

Unless the power goes out. Then I will weep into my vodka.

 

Actually, Wal Mart doesn’t sell vodka. I had to go to the licker store for that.

 

I”m always a little nervous coming out of the licker store, because we attend (haha. I say “attend” as though we actually go. long story. maybe later) a particular denomination of church where the consumption of alchohol is not approved. I had to wonder what I would do if my pastor or somesuch happened to drive by right as I stepped out with my brown paper sack of inebriation.

 

The fact that I need vodka for my pasta a la vodka probably would not sound like a very firm excuse, given that I also had a couple of six packs with me.

 

Oh well. I actually don’t worry about it very much. This would be because I don’t really care.

 

Isn’t this an edifying post? Aren’t you glad you visited?

 

Hey, seeing as how I’m the only one on the whole wide interweb who is still puttin’ out, I say you get what you pay for.

 

That really, really did not sound good.

 

As long as I’m being so spiritual, watch this.

 

 

 

And this.
 

 

 

To sum up the past few days, some people are weird, and some people say really strange things, and some people shouldn’t own dogs, and some people are really hot and some people are really not, and also the fist shaking thing, wrapping presents, celebrities, hyperventilations, secret gifts, BALD faced, Blue Wiggle, bunnies, new haircut, twins, peace and quiet, giant hammerold people, garlic, X is okay, Starbucks, SNL, vodka, teatotallers, annnnnnd…..

 

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE, to my favorite people in the whole world: all you guys I’ve never met.

 

Okay, so you’re not my favorites. You might be. But I’ll probably never know for certain. One thing is certain, though, and that is that I hope you take time today to look around, take deep breaths, and savor the anticipation and the love of those surrounding you. Find somebody to hug, and for the love of all the fluffy puppies on God’s green Earth, hug them.

 

They could probably really use it right about now.

Merry Christmas Adam!!

Christmas Adam. It comes before Christmas Eve! Haw! (thanks for the joke, naddy. it made me giggle!)

 

In closing, let me say that I’m done talking about Dave Ramsey and his status as a hottie, although I’m sure his wife would think he is…she’s not likely to ever stop by my blog and confirm this, however.

 

Just kidding! That’s not really my closing, that’s my opening.

 

I have a question. Maybe somebody can help me out. It’s a very pressing question, and one which frequently puzzles me. What makes old people smell like old people? Now, please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying old people smell bad. But you must admit…they all smell…old. Is it the vitamins? Or does wisdom have an aroma all its own?

 

My childhood home, which my parents still live in, has a very distinct odor, too. I don’t know what it is, but whenever my parents come over, it clings to them. It’s not bad either, but I’m pretty sure there’s a fair amount of garlic in it.

 

Wait a minute. Do they smell like the house, or does the house smell like them?

 

Somebody’s gonna have to rock me to sleep tonight.

 

As long as I’m here, let me clear something up. I know a lot of Christians really despise when people say “X-mas” instead of Christmas, because they feel like it’s putting a big “X” over Christ, so to speak. But I’m here to say that it’s totally not! The abbreviation came about because the first letter in “Christ”, when written in Greek, is X, pronounced “chi”. You can read more about that here.

 

Is God offended by the shortening of His name? Well, seeing as how there weren’t even any vowels in His name for thousands of years, I doubt it.

 

By the way, Starbucks? Why did you stop offering your salted caramel hot chocolate? I hate you.

 

Oh, but Starbucks? Your new egg and gouda breakfast sandwich is the subject of my every breakfast fantasy. I love you.

 

My children have a little poem that they made up just for Christmas Eve Eve. It goes:

 

“Tomorrow we will say
‘tomorrow is Christmas Day!'”

 

Isn’t that clever? It only works for today, though, so HURRY AND USE IT!

Merry Christmas Eve Eve Eve!!

Okay, seriously, people! Am I to believe that NO ONE out there thinks this is hot, or even CUTE, but me?

 

cutiepie

 

Note to self: apparently, you are a freak.

 

Oh well. I don’t really care what you think, internet. Dave will always have my fond affection, even if he never looks my way because my debts aren’t big enough.

 

Heh. Heh. My debts. Aren’t big enough. Heh.

 

You know what else is cute? This Wiggle:

 

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He’s the blue one. If he rolled around in the dirt and got all sweaty, he might even be hawt.

 

Also, bunnies. There honestly is nothing cuter than a bunny. Yes, they are! They are, too! See?

 

OMGcute

 

Oh my asdlkjfedsa;tgewyipuio. I think I just died. No, I’m certain I did. That is some serious, terminal cuteness right there. And you are some sort of subhumanoid robotic androidinal submarine cave-dweller troglodyte if you don’t agree.

 

Not that I would ever intentionally offend anyone!

 

In other news, I got my hair cut. Off. I used to think I couldn’t pull off super-short because I don’t have what might be classified as a petite little dewdrop of a face such as the beautiful Halle Berry (besides the fact that I am irrevocably and unrelentingly caucasion, dadgummit), but as I get older I just don’t care anymore. I want short hair, by golly, and I’m gonna have short hair, even if I DO have the world’s largest chin and nose. Okay, second largest. My twin, Glenn Close, has the largest.

 

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I probably should have put on some lipstick first.

 

The last time I ever had my hair this short was when I was about 10 years old and someone mistook my older brother and me for twins. Twin BOYS.

 

That’s a bit of a downer for a little girl.

 

Here’s a picture of my brother, by the way.

 

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I think the resemblance is strongest around the eyes.

 

Haha! No, really, here’s a picture of my brother:

 

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Wow. Maybe we really are twins! I can’t tell us apart. Am I the one with 12 kids, or the one who is a bachelor carpenter in Arizona?

 

When we were kids and we’d ask our mom what she wanted for Christmas, she’d always say the same thing: “A little peace and quiet”.  And then we’d groan and shake our heads vigorously and yell “NO MOM, WHAT DO YOU REEEEEALLY WANT?!?!?” As if we had any power to give her anything anyway, since we never had any sort of allowance of any kind. Come to think of it, we *could* have given her peace and quiet. But she so obviously did NOT want that!

 

So Mom…what do you want for Christmas?

 

I’ll tell you what I want: I want peace and quiet, sure, but I also want chocolate-covered rainbows to drench my house in sunny sunshine every day of my life until sweet gumdrop flowers sprout from my lawn and coconuts filled with gold dubloons drop from the clouds and smash upon the pavement so that I can buy an ever-blooming vitamin-truffle tree for every single living being on the planet.

 

While we’re at it, I’d also like a giant hammer to swing down out of the sky and obliterate anyone who terrorizes, victimizes, or otherwise ~izes the innocents of the world.

 

And a french bulldog puppy. And a bunny.

 

It’s not a big dream, it’s just a little dream.

 

So, to recap: Blue Wiggle, bunnies, new haircut, twins, peace and quiet, giant hammer.

 

I gotta get back to building houses now. Oh wait, that’s my brother! I mean, I better get back to wrapping presents.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve!

You know what I think is cute? Puppies. Yes! I know I’m weird. But really, they are! They are cute. YES, they are. Especially these kind:

 

OMGcute
(photo credit sabrechaser.wordpress.com)

 

That, my friends, is a French Bulldog. In a sweater. I’m sorry to afflict you with so much cuteness in one photo, but if I must suffer, so must you. It’s only fair.

 

You know what else is cute? My Beloved. And Dave Ramsey, don’t forget! My oldest girls inform me that he is cute, but not hot. He’s not dirty and scruffy enough to be hot, I have been informed. I suppose they’re right. I get the two terms confused sometimes.

 

Did you know it’s only 4 more sleeps until Christmas? Today it is sunny and supposed to be 58 degrees. FIFTY! EIGHT! I shed tears of gratitude. Not that I’ll get to snork any of the warmth…I’ll be locked in my room for 3,051 hours as I attempt to wrap all the presents currently snickering at my from the depths of my closet.

 

What would you do if you saw a celebrity in the flesh? I really want to know. I mean, like, if it was your favorite celebrity. Would you make a complete and utter idiot of yourself, or play it cool? Or would you really BE cool, like “hey man, they’re just normal people, after all, just like you and me…one leg at a time and all that jazz…” Because if you would be like that, I’m afraid we can’t be friends. Because no matter how ashamed I’d be, I know for a fact that I’d be all freaking out and hyperventilating and passing out and dying.

 

It’s stupid, I know.  I’m really sorry.

 

Is there an item that you’re really! super! excited! to be giving one, or more, of your loved ones this year? Isn’t it fun when that happens? When you know they’re really gonna love it and you can’t wait to give it to them? I have several items like that this year. One of them is a ********* for *********** and a ******* for *******. They’re awesome!!

 

My family reads my blog.

 

As long as I’m here, let me help some people out. The proper term is “Better nip it in the BUD”, NOT “Better nip it in the BUTT”. It’s a gardening thing. Also, it’s “used to” not “use to”. Also, it’s “Bald-faced lie” NOT “Ball-faced lie”. Bald faced. As in, bare faced, looking straight-in-the-eye-when-you-say-it, deceitful. Ball faced? No idea. Please stop saying it wrong.

 

Okay, so there’s 4 more sleeps, wrapping presents, celebrities, hyperventilating, secret gifts, and BALD-FACED.

 

Also, just to clarify, this is cute:

 

cutiepie

 

but this is hot:

 

hawt

 

Are you paying attention? This material will be on the test.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve!

 You know what I’ve noticed? Some people are weird. Have you ever noticed that? And some people say really strange things. Things like:

 

“I would never purposefully offend anyone!” (generally said while offending you)

 

Also, some people are really bad drivers. And some people shouldn’t own dogs. And if you see a person shaking their fist at their kid in the grocery store, should you say something?

 

While we’re on the subject, some people are really hot. Like My Beloved. And Dave Ramsey. Dave Ramsey is hot. Yes, he is! He is, too! Look at him with his crinkly-eyed smile and his little bald head. Look at him! How can you not think he is hot? I saw him on the telebishun and he was saying things like “I’m so proud of you for paying off your debt!” and “You’re almost to step number four; good job!” and I was all like I’LL PAY OFF MY DEBTS FOR YOU, DAVE!!

 

Some people are really NOT hot. Like that guy in Avatar. And Mickey Rourke. Although he used to be hot. What happened? I mean, seriously? WHAT HAPPENED??? I’m not kidding. Somebody tell me what happened. Here, let me demonstrate:

 

Then (awwwwww):

 

mickey

 

Now (AAAAAAA!!):

 

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Is he even IN there? Somewhere? Maybe a little bit around the left cheekbone?

 

As long as I’m here, let me help some people out. The proper spelling of the sound you make when you are done creating something fabulous is “voila!” Yes, I know it sounds like “wah-lah” but it is, in fact, French. It is in fact a Fancy French Word that means “look at me and the fabulous thing I have just created with my own two fancy french hands” or something along those lines.

 

Okay. So let’s recap: some people are weird, and some people say really strange things, and some people shouldn’t own dogs, and some people are really hot and some people are really not. Also the fist-shaking thing.

 

I would appreciate it if you could get back to me as quickly as possible in these matters.

 

Thus ends my Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve brain-dump. Voila!

10 for Christmas

Purloined from Lifenut, who poached it from Clover Lane, who, ostensibly, conjured it up right out of her own brain. And here I thought meme’s were plucked from the Great Meme Tree in the middle of the vast Forest of Self-Absorption!

 

If you post your own answers on your blog, please share! It’s what life’s all about.

 

1. Best childhood gift from Santa: You know, it’s really funny. We “did” Santa as kids, but I have no recollection whatsoever of anything he ever brought. He just wasn’t a big deal to me, apparently. My older sister, on the other hand, was permanently scarred when she was told he wasn’t real, and went on to categorically deny the truth until well into her tweens in spite of being the brunt of much fun-making on the part of her classmates. She then went on a tri-state killing spree for 6 months at the age of 14.

 

Okay, so the last sentence is a slight stretching of the truth. But only slightly.

 

This is a long way of saying that I don’t remember anything Santa brought me, but the year I received a Steiff bunny from my own loving mother pretty much set the bar for gift-receiving euphoria from that moment forward.

 

2. Best childhood memories: Helping my dad shingle the garage roof to our new home on Christmas Eve at 10pm in the freezing cold when I was in the 5th grade. I, along with my older brother, was handing him shingles as we discussed JUST HOW COLD we were. My father said “my nose is running like a faucet!” and my brother and I both thought that was really, really funny, given that my father did not normally discuss his orificial conditions.

 

Okay, so it’s probably not the “best” memory. But it certainly was memorable. And a telling clue to the fact that I come by my obsessive habits honestly.

 

3. Favorite Christmas cookies: Gingerman guys. AKA “gingerbread men”, but Gabriel re-dubbed them at the age of four and I think it’s a vast improvement.

 

4. Icky Christmas memory: Helping my dad shingle the garage roof….wait…

 

5. It’s not Christmas without: Visiting family!! We lived on the east coast for two years once upon a time and Christmas was so very, very…quiet…and lonely…and boring!!…without family to descend upon or upon which to descend.

 

6. Our Church Service: Sadly, our church doesn’t really have a Christmas church service. In fact, we hardly even sing any Christmas carols at Sunday services during the advent season, which is a real beef I have. There’s an evening Christmas dinner, but we don’t usually attend those because trying to seat our brood and actually get any food on our plates is an exercise in real exhaustion.

 

7. Christmas Pet Peeve: The pink Joseph:

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Or the 5,000 year old Joseph:

 

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Why, people? Just….why?

 

8. Favorite Christmas CD: Whoa Nelly that’s a toughie. I’ve gotta have Bing at Christmastime, and there’s an album from my childhood by Tennessee Ernie Ford that tickles me beyond all reason, but the most fabulous modern Christmas album that simply MUST be played in order for me to get in the mood is Relient K.  By turns traditional, hilarious, poignant, punky, and did I mention hilarious? you will not regret purchasing it.

 

9. Real or Fake: Why, they’re real, of course!! Oh…you mean the tree. Ahem. Sorry. Well, it’s real too! This year it was REALLY DEAD as soon as we put it up, so we went out and got a REALLY REAL second tree, and it’s the most beautiful thing ever.

 

10. I spend Christmas Eve: During the day, I spend it with my family, hysterical with laughter and eating and drinking and singing Happy Birthday to baby Jesus. In the evening, I spend it wrapping the 1,001 presents I thought I had already wrapped, stuffing stockings alongside My Beloved, and breathing deep breaths of delicious, oh, so very delicious, anticipation.

 

Because anticipation? It’s the best part.

An Unconventional Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, a little girl dreamed about catching the eye of a man who would love her forever. A man who would enfold her in his arms and keep her safe. A man who would be gentle and kind and rational and yet was also a wee bit loco in la cabeza when the situation called for it.

 

She wanted a man who loved the Lord. She wanted a man who would lead without being overbearing, who would not be afraid to fall on his knees when he was in over his head.

 

She wanted a man who was manly and yet could still shed a tear at a chick-flick once in a while. Who could read Louis Lamour in one hand and Francine Rivers in the other. Who knew how to whisper a sweet nothing.

 

She wanted a man who understood how it felt to have your heart handled roughly by those who were entrusted to keep it safe. She wanted someone who could sympathise when tears came for no apparent reason, and emotions were difficult to sort out.

 

She wanted a man who would be a good daddy. A man who would not mind having his hand ground into powder during long labors. Who could find time to play a game or read a book or just fall asleep with the gentle weight of a newborn on his chest.

 

She wanted a man who would get sexier as he got older. If he lost his hair or gained a few pounds, it would never detract from the twinkle in his eyes or the fact that he had a damn cute a**.

 

She carefully wrote down these qualifications in a notebook, and never failed to screen prospective suitors according to its requirements, hunting diligently until she found the man who fulfilled them all.

 

…………..

 

……………………………………….ahem.

 

Okay.

 

Let’s be real here.

 

To be truthful, the little girl in this tale had a bit of an addiction to male attention. She didn’t really screen the guys whose eyes she caught too carefully, so grateful she was that anybody with an overabundance of testosterone was looking her way with any amount of approval.

 

She made some grievous errors in judgement because of this rapacious need to be loved. She didn’t honestly know what she wanted, or what would be important qualities in a man. As long as he said I love you then that was enough.

 

She wasn’t too clever.

 

She wasn’t very deserving.

 

Yet the God of heaven held the list in His own competent hand…He knew exactly what the little girl needed, and for reasons she will never fathom, He sent a man to her. A man who was everything she never knew she wanted.

 

Even more unbelievably, the man loved her.

 

For 23 years, he’s been loving her. And doing a damn fine job of it.

 

 007

 :::blink:::

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And the little girl has never been more grateful than she is today.