Entries from December 2007 ↓

I may or may not be back over the next few days.  If not, I want to wish everyone a merry Christmas.

I know things have been quiet, but how much can I write about the grocery store, the never ending cookie project, and  trying to make WordPress cooperate as I work to organize Home Ec 101.

Speaking of the grocery store, yesterday I jokingly chastised a familiar looking man for not saying hello, only to realize he was not who I thought.  Subsequently I had to face him on each and every aisle, even after breaking the accepted pattern.  By doing so, he knew I was attempting to avoid further contact, yet he insisted on pulling in behind me in the check out line.  Doesn’t he know when someone apologizes for a mild social blunder they should be left alone?  This is not time for further chatter.  This continued into the parking lot and the returning of carts.

Apparently having ham hocks in the cart calls for a closer inspection of contents.  My years in Minnesota gave me a great appreciation for the ability to buy a bottle of wine at the grocery store.  Occasionally I buy a bottle just because I can, a small celebration of life’s pleasures.  I hated going to the sketchy liquor store and was to cheap for the other one.  Perhaps that was the cause of the eyebrow raising.  My pants were zipped and nothing was in my teeth; I checked.

It is a day for naps.  There are beans simmering on the stove, with a mess of collards waiting to be fixed.  The sky is grey and the tree in the corner is quietly shining sparkles of white light beneath strands of cranberries and stars of gold. Tomorrow begins the holiday, but I’m happy in this moment. These are the good old days and I’m thankful to be aware.

Thank you all for being a part of my life.

Him: This roast beef is awesome.

Me: That’s ham.

Only once did the thought of banning toy guns from my house ever really cross my mind.  I dismissed it promptly.  I know my husband and knew he would have fallen out of his chair laughing and writhing from hysterics over that sentiment. Compromise works, there are guns and dolls.

I have held firm to the never point guns at people (or the dogs) rule.

It wouldn’t have mattered if they were banned or not.  My four year old constructs guns out of other toys and my two year old is walking around “shooting baddies” with a measuring cup.

This one is for the grandparents.

This way.

I can do it.

I’m two. I don’t know why I’m pissed.

Mom and Dad took too long looking for the lights.

I finally got around to making an appointment for something that has been bothering me for some time.

Tests follow, including an ultrasound (has nothing to do with either babies or the equipment involved, thank you very much.)

My doctor called while we were out early this afternoon. We’ve been seeing him for almost four years. Anytime anyone in the family has had any kind of test, it’s been the nurses who have called.

Maybe she’s on vacation.

Right?

** Update**  He was calling to let me know we’ll be scheduling more tests to rule out an ulcer before we discuss yanking any organs.

And occasionally I can be seen without pajamas.

The second photo was unapologetically stolen from Janet.

Does anyone else feel as though they are drowning in obligations, but still seem to only be running in place?

I meant to post these pictures back on Nov 21, but they are buried somewhere in the oblivion of back-up discs.

Tim and I were married Nov 21 of 2001, but didn’t have our wedding until Aug 25 ’02.

If you’re in the tri-county area and have young kids. I can’t stress this enough, find Gahagan Park. We took the kids there a few days ago and it is by far the best park ever. Not only is it fenced with only one kid accessible exit (invaluable for those with escape artists) it is well designed with loads of bridges, swings, rope ladders, and places to hide.

I wish there had been a park like this back in my days of playing Hot Lava World.

Dear Media,

It is time to officially strike the sentence “It looks like a war zone” from the lexicon.

Kthxbai!

Before certain people hunt me down.

Here you are.