Last minute Christmas humor!

Can I post some Christmas funnies? As long as there are still decorations out, it's not quite over, right?

OK, because the equation going on this week is that the length of my posts is related to the amount of free time I have. So I will have to make do with a short list. But, erstwhile posting does not mean I am not thinking of posting! Never believe it! Soon I can return to my regularly scheduled pastime, once County schools return to theirs (sorry Susan! Our blogging frequency is conversely related! ;-))

Memorable quotes from the Christmas Past (Passed? Passe?):

1. My Mom, upon seeing my new pajamas: "What are trying to do, scare Rick out of bed?"

Lacking a picture to post, I can only say that these pj's have gained me the name Big Top B. They are very colorful and stripey, and if they also give me night-time celibacy, well, I am over-fertile anyway. So it will all even out. TMI? So sorry. :)
To clarify, when Rick first saw these particular pj's, his first remark was "Did those come with some big shoes and a red nose?" Har-har-har.

2. Cole, upon seeing an Isabella's unfortunately draped sleeping bag: "Mom! Why does Isabella's sleeping bag have a bad word on it?!? It says Hell Kitty!"
Cut to a shot of all adult heads swiveling in the direction of that sleeping bag. Which was hanging on the chair, just so, and did in fact read Hell Kitty. Coincidence? I think not. Isabella *had* been a bit whiny that day. :) And my Mom, *was* straightening the house that morning...

Revoked!

New computer, your name is mud.

You, sir, are a royal pain.
And will be on your way back to the store on Monday.
Your wobbly-ass, malfunctioning USB ports have caused me great aggravation.
Your intermittent wireless connection a sorry tale of lameness.

My laptop liberation has been revoked.

Until Wednesday, when the replacement "family" computer arrives from The North Pole.

So close! Computing freedom at my fingertips... whisked away by shoddy manufacturing.
What is up with Santa's quality control these days?! Has the man taken to drink? The red nose explained, I say. (Right Susan?)

And so, with Cole home from school, my blogging is interrupted by the imminent call of Webkinz World.
To be continued...

Liberated!

A small note of liberation:

My laptop is all mine again! Celebrate! Santa brought a "family computer" for Cole to play games on... which was a great "present" for me. :)

Ahhh. No more crumbs in my keyboard. No more sticky mousepad. Yes - I have plenty of rules about not eating near the computer. Aren't rules fun?

No more hearing him say: "Mom! Did you close my browser???? You should have asked me first!!!"
Yeah, that one was my favorite. As I'm sure my response was his favorite.

Celebrate!!

Ho-ho-hug

Boy meets Santa.

Boy adores Santa.

Santa mauls boy.

Run, boy, run!

sweet home

Greetings and Halloo and has the fat man broken into our house to leave toys yet?? Because it is torture by question around here, with 3 children who have Santa calendars asking me all day if today is The Day. It is *almost* enough to make me shout. But I am holding tightly to my holiday spirit in one hand and my holiday beverage in the other!

A peek at our house, from 5pm-11pm and 6am-7am, thanks to my timer - and to the little hands that have FINALLY stopped moving the times around. One day last week it came on from 3pm-4pm, while I was outside raking. Huh?

(This shot was crystal clear on my camera. *Clearly* I should have taken the cuppa cheer out of the other hand, and steadied the camera.

I thought the monkeys wouldn't be curious about my "hidden" (read: behind a pot of pansies) little black timer box.

But I distracted them!

Meet....

Perry The Penguin!

Thanks Mom. Everyone in the neighborhood that admires him, is told just where he came from. :) This is truly an "I did it for the kids" deal. :)

Anatomy 101

I knew this day was coming.

But time just flew by, the kids were all content, and I let it slip my mind. (Yes, yes, my theme this month - the slipping mind.)

Clearly there has been rampant over-use of the all-encompassing term "bottom" in this house. As in sit on your bottom, wipe your bottom, you have a little rash on your bottom, I'm gonna whoop your bottom... the entire area in totality. Simple. Uncomplicated. Ineffective!

Ineffective, how? you might ask. And I will tell you. Ineffective in that the omission of names for girlie parts led two little 3 year-old girlies to believe they had humble boy parts. Really? Oh really!

The day of awakening went something like this. The dynamic duo were playing as usual, all over the house, here there and everywhere. I happened to be near the bathroom when they stopped in, and heard the following chant: "I have a tiny weenie! I have a tiny weenie! I have a tiny WEENIE! Watch me, I can pee-pee standing up, like Cole!"

Uh-oh. And that's how you know when you've left the subject alone too long. Not only is a correction now involved, as well as the slight disappointment to the girls at being told they do not, in fact, have a weenie... (Oh, the disappointment. They idolize Cole.) There is also the open airing of brand new words and ideas ringing loudly around the house for a while.

Comfortingly, they get it wrong often enough to be funny. As in Isabella yelling "Cole! Stop it! You kicked me in my Aretha!" And that is so flippin' funny to me, I cannot correct it. I can only giggle and smile, and think of a song.

So here we go, yet again, with anatomical misnomers... I'm so sorry, Ms. Franklin...

Yes, I Did!

Christmas Caroling

It's the time... the season... this means lots of school programs and class parties!

Isabella & Jadyn had their preschool Christmas program last week, and it was memorable...

But let me start at the beginning. First, let's get the girlies dressed. I had bought them coordinating outfits, trusting my ability to bribe them both into skirts. Mine are not girly-girls. At all. They refuse to wear skirts and dresses, though they love to twirl in their princess nightgowns.

So, I pulled out their "program outfits" which I had been marketing hard all week, and really talking up. Here we go!

Jadyn, the dark horse, always surprises us. When we expect her to balk, she often antes up and is so cooperative. And she was delighted to get dressed and excited about the program. Whew. One down... one to go (well, make that 6 - the whole crew had to get dressed up. Eek.) - and Isabella was hiding in her room.

"I hate this skirt! I hate this shirt! I hate my program! I want to stay home." Oh Lord. She sounded exactly like an adolescent girl. I laughed and left her to sort herself out. 30 minutes until go time.

Fast forward 20 minutes, 5 down, 1 to go... time to roust Isabella from the playroom. With mild threats. She cries & screams and as I am well-versed in dressing wriggly kicking young'uns, I prevail. And threaten her if she dares take off the clothes. She stalks off to wait in the car, again, with a real 'tude.

Proof, you say? You don't think oh little angelic one can stomp and scream? View it and weep.

A Christmas story in pictures.

Jadyn gets in here twice, for being a good "gorl." Look at that sweet expression. She froze for this picture (a rarity) - knowing she had it all over Isabella. Slightly smirky, and deservedly so. Never think these twins aren't both middle children, vying for attention! This time she got it right - positive attention, cough cough.

3 down, almost time to head out...

But wait! Who is that tearful one at yonder door?

It's princess Bella!
Come on, little one. Time to sing in a huge room, in front of a huge crowd. Have no fear...

But that's a story for next time!

Still slipping

Last week it was the Christmas card sentiment. This week? Oh yeah. Still slipping.

So, Rick was at a friend's, and I called to tell him to pick up Mexican for dinner on his way home. It was the usual wild & crazy 6:30pm scene here, though that is no excuse, really...
I placed our order, finished prepping the kids for bed, put Phoenix to bed and waited, salivating for our Texas fajitas to arrive. Rick walked in, empty-handed, and asked "What happened, precious love of my life?!" (*this way is much better trust me*)
I stared as though he were an Alpha Centaurian, and vehemently asked, "Why whatever do you mean dearest dear of the deary dears? Where is our hot delicious mezo-american meal?"
He described a clueless bartender, checking every order, assuring him that there was not one in our name.
I stared unbelieving, and felt the vague stir of an uh-oh in my stomach.
Yeah. I totally placed the order at the wrong location.
Never mind that we have lived here for 4 years... and eat there fairly often...
Oh dingity-dang-dong.
I whipped out the menu to see which location I had called (Crabapple! Dammit!), but never think I took the blame! Oh no! It was the witching hour crazies, the fussing baby on my hip - and what did he think would happen, leaving me here at dinner time alone, to play juggle-the-kid?
And then, I dramatically walked out the door, and took my heated, hungry booty to La Parilla, to await a fresh order.
And have a beer. At the bar. And though it was not quiet, it was peaceful and no one asked for anything and thus it was a golden 15 minutes.
I arrived home to find the girls in bed, guaranteeing a relaxed supper. I would say quiet, but you know Cole, and that child talks even in his sleep.
Mmm. Tasty.
Rick has told this story 5 times already & I'm really gonna have to step it up now. He actually asked me if had remembered to feed the baby today... ooh, that stings. That is just wrong.
Every one knows babies can't call the wrong number.

Bad Santa

Hi there and Happy Friday!

It's a slow news day around here, so I thought I'd share some really hi-larious Bad Santa shots, from Suburban Turmoil!

I don't have many Santa shots of my kids with the jolly guy, because I didn't have a lens wide enough to shoot both Santa and the girls across the room, hiding under a table, in the same frame. Oh well. But I do have a cute comment made by Cole, when I told him my Mom & brother were coming here for Christmas. His immediate response: "Great! Some more hands to help out!" No lie. Eye on the prize, that boy. Straight to the heart of the matter.

Have a laugh at Bad Santa, and I'll stir up some stories soon.

http://suburbanturmoil.blogspot.com/2008/12/bad-santa-3.html

Email Vigilantes

Attention Email Rumor Forwarders! Er, e-Forwarders? Ru-warders? Emailer, emailing the forwards... the Forwarder... Forwarding the rumors...
Oh wait! I got it: Attention Conspiracy-believing-fwding-addicts! Society watchdogs!

I hereby christen you Email Vigilantes.

Should you choose to continue your pursuit of the "hot topic," consider this:

Just because you have a hotmail account doesn't mean you have a hotline to FBI/CIA/Secret Service files on current public figures. Really. Please listen carefully. And get in close, I'm going to whisper.

Not every email story/breaking news flash/character reference is TRUE. Just because it came TO your inbox doesn't mean it came FROM someone truthful/in-the-know/uninterested in scandalous e-rumors or slander. The fate & future of our society does not rest on your deliberate choice of forwarding or deleting. Promise.

Did you catch that? Are you still with me? Because Email Vigilantes are rampant today. Oh, you know who you are. You got that email about potential car-jackers, and you forwarded it to everyone in your address book. Ditto for the one about spiders living under toilet seats. And the end of social security... truth about taxes.... truth about Congress - don't even get me started on the bizarre nature of the ones flying around during this last election cycle. Really. Don't.

As one family member put it: "You must spend a lot of time defending your candidate!" Actually... no. I do not. Because organizations already exist that do an efficient job with this stuff! All it takes is a lift of the finger, a click of the mouse, a few simple words, and Bob's your uncle.

And now, for your vigilante enlightenment, here are the secret agencies that cover all this e-rumor fodder, sift the verifiable fact from the rumor and protect us all from e-garbage - should we choose to use their services.

www.truthorfiction.com - wow. That seems so cut and dried. Truth or Fiction.
www.snopes.com - again, wow. Not one, but two sites that are all over this blight.

And blight it is! Blight, I say. Blight! Makes you smile, right? A blight, bloke! It's a bloody blight on the internet community. I mean, the absurdity of some of these things... is way obvious. But the all-too-human-urge to believe in conspiracies and spread the fear? Strong. Powerful. Almost irresistible. Fight it, my countrypeople - fight it!

Pinkie swear right now that you will henceforth Do Your Part to verify each and every email that even slightly smells of rumor-millage. If it turns out to be true, go to town with it. Spread it like it's hot. Unverifiable? File it under D for delete. Dead on arrival. End of the road. Deal? Deal.

Are we cool now?

Merry greetings

Have I mentioned lately that I'm slipping? You know, the old wheels aren't turning so spinningly anymore?

Well, I've done it now.

And all in the name of aesthetics.

I chose a most lovely Christmas card, because the instant I saw it, I loved the colors, the pattern, the spot for TWO pictures (crucial!), and the overall look. L-o-v-e-l-y. And I ordered those puppies, got them in, and proudly sat down to address envelopes.

Full stop.

My cards say, in the area for holiday sentiment, Season's Greetings. And did I notice this, before purchasing? Well, only in the most abstract ways, while I admired the beauty and the colors.

Oh my. Me oh my. Yes, yes, I know Jesus is the Reason for the Season. Yes, yes, I know Christmas is the name of the holiday. Oh don't I know it. Haven't I gotten a-plenty of emails lately, reminding me of this fact? Every wingnut with an email account and a pointer finger zips that sentiment around. I do not disagree! I fell for the prettiness! Swear! Was I raised in a non-Christian barn? (shut up. I was only in that barn a lot because I had a pony. And I liked the smell of hay.) (Email-forwarding-vigilante/morality police will be another topic. Promise! Stop me, oh oh oh, stop me... stop me if you think that you've heard this one before...)

All together now, shake your heads in silent lament at the absolute heathen choice of card I have made. 'Cause I'm sure still sending them out, and I still (secretly) love my choice. Ssssh...

Merry Christmas kids. The word is Christmas.

Flash!

This is the post where I reward my faithful reader/commenter Susan aka "Dewar" with a post that she will enjoy. It pays to play, folks. It pays to play. (yes, i do actually remember your middle name, because I thought you & L. had the coolest middle names evah.)

I was sorting old photos, hoping to be inspired to work on the Christmas gift calendars for my family... when I came across some golden oldies. I love the photo box. No matter how many times I poke around in there, I am always delighted by some long-forgotten shot.

In this one circa mid-80's-ish, I would be the sassy chick in the red velvet knickers, staring adoringly at... OMG! Yes it is! But back to my knickers. I love-love-loved this outfit when I was 9 and 10. Did I secretly yearn to be an elf? A showgirl? And what was up with putting suspenders on my knickers? Leiderhosen! My mom must have watched The Sound of Music before she made this outfit.

Notice that I am the only student that is dressed in holiday finery, and with special tight braiding of the hair. Everyone else is dressed like usual kids at school. Me? Oh no. Nothing but the best for student A1A. And by A1A, I mean, check out the sticker chart!! My row is a full house, right off the paper! Please raise your hand if you are an academic over-achiever-turned late-night blogger. You'd think my academic dedication would have taken me further. Nope. I still have a bizarre penchant for red velvet and/or crochet. Weird.

But look! Just 2 rows down, You-Know-Who has only 3 stickers. Naughty, naughty boy. Stop teasing me and just ask to borrow my leiderhosen.

And here we have a family reunion shot. Though why we would be wearing what can only be tiny yellow name tags, I have no idea. Because we have all attended these reunions, in the same building, since the beginning of time. And everyone knows the cool kids table needs no name tags. As if.

This year I am sporting the classic jean-on-jean look, and I betcha some loafers on the footsies. My Hardy cousins are in casual chic. At this point, S has not yet met her hubbie-to-be, and so I have not been able to apprise her of his schoolboy antics and merciless teasing. 'Cause that would have really given us something to talk about that day. You know, other than what desserts were the best. And who the acne-ridden new boy was and why was he at our reunion. And why Page was hanging around the cool kids corner.

Yes, it pays to play. You too could be the focus of Borderland fun & games. Any day now... any day.

Remembrance

Today is a bit of a tender day.

I had planned and written a Flashback Friday post... but life is such that you never know what will make up a day.

Yesterday, my Dad's best friend from high school passed away. And while this friend and I were only bound by our mutual closeness to my Dad... still. The thought of his 3 young daughters mourning their father on a cold Beaufort County day hit me.

As time is wont to do, it can wind around and seem to curve in on itself. And it did this morning when I looked at the friend's video tribute, and the healings of a year-gone melted. I was all of a sudden the grieving daughter standing in the winter wind trying to hold myself into one coherent piece, as I dimly watched the ceremony that commemorated my own Dad.

The pieces that make up a memorial are rather random, as it turns out. The military part of the funeral, while dignified, held no emotion for me. The soldier Floyd was not a man I knew. Yet from many accounts, that time of his life impacted the rest of his life, so maybe I knew him after all. The various friends and family that stood and attested to a life well-spent were all dear and I remember them all with varying degrees of clarity. The framed poster-size print standing on the green funeral carpeting bore little relation to the man I loved.

Somehow it is the memories of Dad's close friends that bring it all home. Because though a man is made of many parts, his friends offer a window of truth into the person. And that little piece of something that clicks between two people will always intrigue me. Always draw me in, to know and attempt to unravel the relationship that binds two together.

This morning it all came down to degrees of separation. For a moment longer I was close to my Dad through the ties of another. In some small way, as I remembered his friend, and thought of their reunion in that other realm, I was with Dad. I could touch him briefly and ride the palpable wave of emotion that is mostly suppressed. Because I was mourning another, that he would have mourned.

And so this Flashback Friday is given to friends old and new, that we might all appreciate those little glimpses of human connection, and know that in the long run, in the final say, we were Known as we walked this earth. The older you get, the more you need the friends that knew you when you were young.

Be pain-free and at peace, Flipper. You deserve it, old friend.

Wordless Wednesday: my littlest fellow

With whipped cream and a cherry on top

No... I haven't been cooking up a good time today - I've been reading about the Senate runoff race here in GA! And hoping to cap off a good run with the final death blow. Only GA is still struggling with a step toward the inevitable on-rush of the future. The future that holds change!

“Georgia,” she said, “the eyes of America are on you.” says a NY Times article. Oh Lord. Not again. Last time all eyes were on GA, it was when Rep. Broun of GA was comparing Obama to Hitler a month ago. Eek. We don't need that kind of press, right? Then Saxby rang in with his declaration to oppose President-Elect Obama as he "supports GA values." Let me get this straight Saxby. You're going to run against the wind in this move that is sweeping the nation, a move that created a historical change in America with the election of Barack Obama? And you're going to state that publicly, as though you are a majority? As though hope, courage and vision as upheld by Obama supporters cannot also be GA values? Oh-la-la. Tres backward, my friend. Take a breath of the fresh air coming your way.

It's about time for GA to join the culture of progress and critical thinking, and take a look at who is supposedly defending our values in Washington. And though it may not happen this go-round, the balance has shifted, and the voters want results. You may squeeze in again Saxby, by the skin of your chinny-chin-chin, but you haven't heard the last from the 50% of GA who did not support you. And I have it on good report that many of the ones who have had your back, are none too pleased either. None too pleased, I tell you! :)