the post I can't seem to title appropriately so we'll just call it business socks

So, I realized, while not shampoo-ing my hair this morning, that it's been a while since I've faithfully blogged about anything. This is due to watching the ticker on my Amazon page like a hawk. It may not take long to write a book, by George, but breathlessly and desperately watching for sales, stars, reviews, and comments is a FREAKIN' TIME COMMITMENT, PEOPLE. Don't underestimate it. I just have to check, says I, 23498.4 times per day, as I struggle, weak limbed, over to the smoking, quivering, much abused, laptop. It'll only take a second, says I, as I stuff pie in my mouth and re-tie the robe I put on three days ago (after shampoo-ing, I gave up on society approved clothing. At least until my patent on disposable onesies for adults comes through).

So, anyway, things have been a little busy for me, what with all that...busyness.

I almost wrote business. Which makes me think of business socks, which would go really well with disposable onesies.

Anyhoo. Not a lot going on here. Made Thanksgiving. Ate Thanksgiving. Will continue to eat Thanksgiving until the last piece of congealed stuffing is gone and I can finally wash all those plates and bowls (holy smokes, my cupboards are empty).

All I can think to say is, I'm pretty sure I have a brain tumor or something. My ears always hurt when I get up, which can only mean one of several things: they get folded over and smooshed during the night (a likely possibility), I'm grinding my teeth again (a likely possibility), or I have a brain tumor (the most likely possibility). I don't know why the tumor would hurt my ears, but I figure it probably rolls around in there like a tumbleweed and occasionally gets caught in my ear canal. I keep forgetting to google my symptoms, like any self respecting play at home doctor would do; probably because I'm busy blogging for you. Oh yeah, and watching my Amazon stats. Be right back.

K. What was I talking about?

Right. Medical symptoms. So, anyway, if you don't hear from me, I'm either 1. tending to my patent duties, 2. tending to my pie, 3. tending to my brain tumor, 4. not washing my hair or putting on acceptable clothing. KnowwhatImean? You know you do.

So, until then, my dears, enjoy your stuffing and your tumor free ears.

Just photos

Looky!  Crescent rolls!  As far as the eyes can see!  As many as your belly can hold, plus two!

Three strange woodland creatures I met in the woods.  Hence, the woodland creatures...living in the woods...

Also, one small ninja.

And his mom.

I hope the park ranger doesn't fingerprint the stump we left that may have been slightly, just a little, a tad, a smidge, above 12 inches.  Ahem.

The hunters bringing home their kill tree.

Hold up for the ninja who was wearing last year's snow boots and couldn't walk fast.  Also, he needed a sandwich.

"Look, Mom!  I'm on a car! Don't I look good on a car?  Can I have a car?  Can I drive the car?  Can I borrow the car keys?  See you later, can I have them please?"

Sittin' on top of the world...lookin' down on creation...


Why is everything a song with me?


There is a story about the Christmas tree.  But I have to wait another day or two before I can laugh about it.  I'm still wincing.  Also, I can't walk by without PTSD flashbacks and thinking it's going to fall my head.  So...yeah.  Later.  First I must bask in the glow of 400 mini lights.


*contented sigh*

gratitude

Grateful for...


...where I was one year ago and where I am today. Last year I hit a deer with my van, which wasn't very holiday-like of me. This year I will stay out of vehicles.


Visiting friends.


Veggie trays while the turkey cooks.  Go, turkey, go!  Brown up, baby, and get in my belly!


The Macy's Thanksgiving Parade in the background while we fill the crockpot with apple cider, Tawni rolls out a pie crust using a wine bottle, the number of guests keeps tallying up, the crescent rolls rise, the kids rollerblade, the dog enjoys his giblets, and we plan our Christmas tree hunt for this weekend.


Texts from my group home kids...happy thanksgiving to you too, you little gremlins.


Daughters who can take over the Dreaded and Hideous Gravy Whisking Chore that was the bane of my childhood.  Muwahahaha!


Six homemade batches of chocolate truffles ready to be sent off to Idaho.  Don't you wished you lived in Idaho?


Christmas cards in a perfect stack, ready for addressing.  Want one?  Send me your address.  If you are not in my red Wonder Woman address book, you may as well not exist.


A job I totally enjoy.


Writing that people enjoy.


A book that is almost finished.


Mom and Dad.


Boots, jackets, scarves, dresses with leggings. 


Milo and Gianni sitting perched on the floor watching the dog show on television.  Milo is sure to win, in spite of his giblet breath.  Gianni is also in the running in the hound category.  He is a most excellent howler. 


"Four Christmas'" on the dvr to watch with my snugglebunny one night with the extra chocolate truffles (it's not my fault that they all won't fit in the gift boxes).


The turkey induced coma I will shortly fall in to.  I will only be revived by the odor of apple crisp or pumpkin pie with freshly whipped cream wafted gently under my snoring nose.  


What are you thankful for today and everyday?

stuff and nonsense

I don't know why deer season is such a big deal.  Spending all that money on the guns, the licenses, the gear, the camo pants, the sasquatch urine or whatever it is you spray on yourself to attract a deer, the waiting, the watching, the anticipation, the freezing cold temperatures... When all you really need to do is drive my country roads at night in a 15 passenger van.

Couldn't be easier.

Probably could be less messy.

And traumatic.

Both for the deer and for the passengers who shrieked like little girls.  OK, on reflection, that might've been me.

Time for Turkey Day and I do so hope you all have a lovely one.  We're having all the traditional gobs of food here at the Children's Home, just like at your house, only all our recipes will be tripled.  Our dining room table already sags on the ends, like a droopy tired old mustache, and it's really gonna be huffin and puffin under all the weight tomorrow.  But Gen * I wail * where will I get our traditional Vat O' Mashed Taters without you???  And Mommy, who will I complain to when I have to stir the gravy???  And Lary, who will pour me a glass of wine as we snitch all the clam dip???  Not that I drink wine.  Cuz I'm Baptist.  I meant to say ginger ale.  Ahem.

If I was a better blog writer I would have filled this Thanksgiving post with all the things I'm thankful for, counting down each day, filling you all with hope and cheer and peace on earth, goodwill to men, falalala, and warm fuzzies.  But I kinda forgot, and I've been kinda busy, and I know you have too, so suffice to say:

I AM THANKFUL FOR YOU ALL.

Those who read occasionally.
Those who read faithfully.
Those who stumble across it because they hit a typo on their keyboard.
Those who call to make sure I'm OK when I write something a little sad.
Those who send me impatient emails when it's been too long and want to make sure I didn't die a tragic death.
Those who say I should write a book (insane people are lovable).
Those who leave comments.
(I love you most of all).
Those who follow, even though something in my computer is blocking that part on my end so I can no longer see your cutie pie faces.

Happy Thanksgiving, my little fruitcakes!

P.S.

There's a pesky fire law that says I can't have a REAL Christmas tree in the Children's Home.  Pfffft.  Pshaw.  Stoopid rools, says I.  So in lieu of writing about our annual Christmas tree hunt and all the adventure that prevails like I do every year, I guess I'll just re post an old one later in the week. 

As I sit dejectedly by my PLASTIC tree...sadly spraying Pine scented air freshener...NOT drinking wine.
Sniffle.

Thanksgiving

When hubby-mine heard I was planning on posting photographic evidence of his gift of procrastination, he rushed out back and remedied the situation. Awww, the naivete. The shot had been captured minutes before.




I'm considering turning it into this year's Christmas card.


But let's focus on this week's holiday first. Happy Thanksgiving! I'm shamed by every one's Facebook statuses that only say what they're thankful for everyday this month, while mine focus on things less humble and contrite. So, here goes my "A thankful heart is a happy heart" list, all in one lump sum:

I'm thankful for my family. For my extended family, who are all crazy quacks and I love them for it. They're all quirky in their own special ways and contribute to the goodness of this world, sure enough. For my mom's Christmas traditions, my dad's patient humor, my sister's loyalty and all around dorkiness. My niece's abilities to make me laugh on the phone, especially Al. Kary tries not to talk to me. My brothers who I barely know, really, but I love them because it's good to know I have a couple of 6'4" hulks on my side should I ever need 'em. I'm grateful for my in-laws and their willingness to take us in in case of homelessness. For my brothers-in-laws and sisters-in-laws and their senses of humor; all unique and all...weird, just the way I like 'em.

I'm thankful for my own little family. Mine, mine, mine! I don't know why, but I felt the need to rub that in. They're so darn cute I could eat them alive. Because it's not the season for cannibalism however I will just nibble a neck whenever they least expect it. I'm thankful for my husband whom I never get tired of. Really! Not a lot of people married this long could say that. Well, ok, when I walk by last year's Christmas tree still attached to the base in November of the following year, I may roll my eyes. A little. But it's a loving eye roll.

I'm thankful for my friends. I have the best friends ever. Mariah's heart on her sleeve, Genesis' taste in movies, Tawni's nutty boys, Jennifer's ability to tune out the football game with me, Lorna's example in general life, Heather B. for all the memories we share of a crazy decade, Aerie for even more memories and the only one who knew me as a pigtailed whipper snapper. My Wyoming buddies have been great too: they stocked my freezer with antelope and elk, forced me into MOPS, watched my kids, and shared their government money with me (which we totally spent on beer and cigarettes! Ha, kidding).

I'm thankful for cars that run, jobs (boy, I'd love the chance to be thankful for that one again here any second now), homeschooling so I don't miss a second of anything in my kid's lives, expensive coffee and cheap wine (because I homeschool...see how that comes full circle?), date nights, snuggles, a roof over our heads, books, holiday movies, parents who taught me the love of Christ so that I in turn could teach my children, online book clubs (see? my great friends strike again!), a full fridge even if it's only full for a second before ravenous ankle biters rip the door off the hinges and go all grizzly bear on the contents, a nibble of dark chocolate every now and again, Bon Jovi in February - squeal! - walks to the park, Sadie's recovery, all of our health, NOT being a Radio Shack widow on Black Friday and every other blessed day of the year, and hundreds of other things. And comments on the blog. I'm thankful for those of you who leave 'em. As for the rest of you slugs...

Happy Thanksgiving, my peeps!