Thanksgiving Teepee Cupcakes

Since I still have traffic flocking to my little blog looking for photos of Martha nekkid, I thought I'd offer a little Stie-invented / Martha-esque craft so as not to disappoint the pervs when they get here. Plus, this little ditty might be useful to some of you non-porn seekers.

So without further use of the word porn, I present to you: My Thanksgiving teepee cupcakes. I made them for the cub scouts, but they are equally functional as a centerpiece or place card holder for your thanksgiving table.


You will need a package of sugar cones, a cake mix, and an aluminum disposable baking pan.

Mix the cake mix according to package directions. (Or if you're one of those annoying people who only make things from scratch, then mix up your hoity-toity cake batter.)

Take a disposable baking pan, turn it upside down, and cut a few holes in it with scissors. You'll need this to stabilize the cones while they bake. It's funny, but you just can't put the pointy end of a triangle in a pan and expect the triangle to stand up. I don't know why that is, but it just is. So the powers that be require us to find a creative way to bake these little teepees. Stupid laws of physics.


Now pour a few tablespoons of batter in each sugar cone. You don't need very much. You'll want some room at the top for the cake to rise. If you fill it all the way up, it will explode on you and make a big mess on the bottom of your oven that will stink every time you turn on the oven. Not that I'd know anything about that, ahem. So just a little bit, okay?

Then bake at 350 degrees for about ten minutes. You'll have to keep an eye on these in the oven. They like to tip over. I reached my hand into the oven a few times to right the ones that toppled over. I have super powers which allow me to do that. You should probably use an oven mitt.

The cones get a little brown around the edges, but they still taste delicious. Eat a few when the kids aren't looking if you don't believe me. Especially while the cake is still warm. Mmmmmmm.

Once the teepees have cooled for a few minutes flip them upside down. Then snip off a little bit of the cone with kitchen shears. I would not advise doing this before baking as all your batter will fall out the bottom. Again, the physics, you know.

Then stick in a few toothpicks (although I actually used BBQ skewers. For some reason, I buy toothpicks and they're never seen again. I blame the children and fully expect to find boxes and boxes of toothpicks someday. But the skewers worked equally well):

And voila! Beautiful, delicious, homemade teepee cupcakes for your thanksgiving table. If you are more crafty and creative than me [read: not as lazy] then you can decorate your teepees with frosting and candy and whatnot. I made mine for the cub scouts, so they got them as-is (and ate them in all of three seconds).

Happy Turkey Day! God bless gluttony.

34 things you need to know about me

Tomorrow morning at roughly 8:20 a.m., I will be 34. I know some of you are saying, "Puleazze...you're a baby. What do you know?" And others are saying, "Holy crap. Are you really that old?" And you know what? I think I feel somewhere in between.

And in honor of my awesome self, here are 34 things you may or may not know about me, on this, the eve of the anniversary of my birth:

1. I was born absolutely, solidly perfect.

2. That state lasted a solid two-and-a-half years, then Daniel was born and ruined everything.

3. I was going to be a world-famous ice skater.

4. Until I broke my arm skating, had six surgeries, and realized I had no grace.

5. I was a tomboy and had only one Barbie.

6. Whose head I filled with sand.

7. I have four brothers; one older, three younger.

8. I learned how to fight well at an early age.

9. I had a huge crush on Johnny Depp when I was 13. Still do, in fact. Can't wait to see this.

10. I have always been afraid of the dark.

11. I secretly wished I was Jo on the Facts of Life.

12. My first kiss was a short, skinny, blond boy named Rocky.

13. I think we 'broke up' a week later.

14. He was heartbroken and never forgave me.

15. I always wanted to be a Broadway singer.

16. I realized that dream would not come true (seeing as I can't sing at all) and resigned myself to a life in the audience instead.

17. I am, however, a theater snob and will not watch any show from the balcony or in the back.

18. I spent 75 percent of my senior year cutting class. I probably only graduated because I was taking five Home Economics classes.

19. I still have nightmares about classes I skipped regularly.

20. I have a secret dream to be a professional photographer.

21. When I met my husband for the first time, I knew we would get married.

22. He knew a short few weeks later.

23. I have lived in six different states.

24. My first job was at Subway sandwiches when I was 16.

25. I had bad eczema on my hands and used to tell people I saved my baby brother from a fire, and that the red marks on my hands were burns.

26. I will probably go to hell for that lie alone.

27. I had my first baby without the blessed miracle of science that is an epidural (not by choice).

28. I gratefully had the other two babies while fully numb from the waist down, as god intended.

29. I am extremely afraid of heights and speed. Which explains why roller coasters and I don't work well together.

30. I love hosting parties.

31. I am neurotic and worry about really dumb things.

32. Like the fact that the Husband still has not registered his car in Missouri and has no problem getting speeding tickets.

33. I could never have imagined how much I would love my life today.

34. I am very happy to be me.

So happy birthday wishes to myself. May the next 34 be just as good as the first have been.

P.S. Feel free to send gifts. I'm not bashful that way at all.

E.T. phone home

I have caught The Husband watching this show. Oh, yes, indeed.

More than once.

Our friend Jack, and his LOVELY wife, Rexella, claim that all the floods, earthquakes, and catastrophes of the world are caused by a group of aliens, controlled by one evil alien, sent by Satan himself.

Oookkaay. Interesting.

I have to say that I don't really get the whole televangelist thing. You see these guys on t.v., preaching hellfire and damnation 'til the sweat runs off their hair plugs and down their face, and it just leads me to wonder -- if I watch them, does that count as church for the week? Can you just pick a religion on t.v. and call it good?

I'll be honest, if I'm going to forsake my Religion and pick something to follow on the television, it's probably going to be something with a little more zing to it.

You want resurrection? Plentiful on Pushing Daisies. How about sin and deception? Nobody knows more about that than the hoochie mamas on Wysteria Lane. The fact that CSI can come up with a new spin-off show every year is nothing short of a miracle. And let us not forget Mr. Hefner and his three granddaughters/girlfriends who remind us weekly of the perils of living in sin. [Although most men would probably classify this as a show in which they learn envy. Stupid men.]

So I guess what it boils down to is this: To each his own, right? I am sure the ladies sending their monthly social security check to Jack Van Impe do it because they believe in him. I spend a [crazy] three hours every week at my church because it's what I believe in. And that's good enough for me.

I only hope that if the evil E.T. returns as Jack has prophesied, he brings us the Reese's Pieces.

I could tolerate hell if I had me some peanut butter candies to munch on.

If you thought the picture of bad dog was scary, you should see what came out of my crockpot yesterday

All right, internets. The time has come for a cooking intervention. I served this to my less-than-thrilled family last night:

I know, I know.

So I've decided to stage my own intervention. And every recovery process begins with admitting you have a problem:

Hi. My name is Stie and I cannot cook.

Now those of you who know me in real life, let me clarify that statement by saying that, yes, I can bake like nobody's business. I have never met a baking recipe that I cannot master. But give me a piece of meat? Ten times out of ten I will ruin it.

A large portion of the problem is not really knowing what to make. I tend to recycle the same four recipes each week. My poor, long-suffering husband can take no more. After almost 14 years of marriage, it is time I got some new recipes. He can only smile politely across the table for so long.

So.

What I am proposing is this: I need you to send me your VERY BEST dinner recipes. Send me one; or send me five; but please IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, send me something. Please send me things that you KNOW are good. Your tried-and-trues. Recipes my picky kids will eat, but also recipes decent enough for the husband's slightly more gourmet palate.

[However, I do need to ask that whatever you send me does not include any form of fish. I do not like the fish. I will not eat it in a house. I will not eat it with a mouse. I do not like fish, Sam I am. I do not like fish, that's my stand.]

Here's the kicker, internets. I will try each and every recipe I get. My family will review it, and the overall favorite recipe will receive a $25 giftcard from Amazon for you to spend on yourself (you don't even have to tell your husband you won it, hee hee). It will probably take us a few weeks to get through them all (as I really only tend to cook a few times per week), but before January 1, I promise to have declared a winner.

You can email me the recipes at stiesthoughts@gmail.com or leave your recipe here in the comments. Enter as often as you like. But please help. You do not want my family to eat that soggy beef stew again.

I leave my fate in your hands.

Some of life's most valuable lessons

Because I'm so kind and often find myself wanting to help people, I've prepared a tutorial that should enable you to safely navigate your way through life. I've put it in real simple terms so people like my brother Dan could understand it. All you need to know is what's good and what's bad. M'kay?

Good hair:

Bad hair:

Good dog:

Bad dog:

Good clothes:

Bad clothes. Very, very bad clothes (note the prominent camel toe. Ouch, girlfriend. You can tell by the look on her face that she's feelin' it, too.):

Good Sign
(and one I really should have tried, seeing as I had four brothers I could have sold for a handsome profit):

Bad Sign:
Good music:

Bad music:

Good boyfriend. Very, very good boyfriend. [not that I'd know anything about that, ahem]:

Bad boyfriend. For questions on this one, refer to the bad dog above. Stay away from any and all bad Dogs:

And according to the P.E. teacher at my daughter's school, good shoes:

Bad shoes:

Discuss.

No shoes, no service

Lately, Hannah has been expressing a lot of anxiety about P.E. at school. Every morning as we're getting dressed she wails, "Oh, I hope I don't have P.E. today. Do you think I have P.E. today? Oh, please, NO P.E. TODAY!" One would think that she is being asked to spend her childhood in a hot, sweaty factory assembling plastic toys for ten cents a day instead of playing a little kickball on the playground with her friends.

This has been going on for several weeks now. She loves and adores absolutely everything else about school. Riding the bus? Awesome. Her friends? Perfect. I think she even has a major crush on her music teacher, Mr. Eddy. But when it comes to P.E.? It's a nightmare.

And I'll be honest, I have for the most part ignored this. I've simply not worried about it. Felt like it was one of those things that would work itself out.

Because you know what, kid? I hated P.E., too. I'm still traumatized by those years spent in my middle school gym uniform - an orange shirt, blue short-shorts, and knee socks - holding my head and bracing for the worst as the boys pummeled the girls in dodge ball. I was never what you would call athletically gifted and did not enjoy humiliating myself in front of my entire class. So I get it. But what can I do? She's at the beginning of what will be several years of torture.

But finally, I decided that the time had come to have a talk. I thought I'd use this proud parenting moment to help her understand that even if she doesn't like something, it's important to try. I'd even throw in my favorite lecture on the necessity of physical fitness (just hold on, let me put down my donut first). I was going to help her toughen up, deal with these issues, and get past them.

So I sat down and began to ask her what she hated about P.E.

And do you know what I found out? Apparently, because she is not in sneakers, they will not let her participate with the rest of the class. Anyone who doesn't wear sneakers, has to stay inside and bounce a ball against the wall, while the rest of the class plays outside.

It has come to this.

I have become THAT parent.

You know who I'm talking about. The one that sends their child to school with a lunchbox full of candy and cheetos. Or sends them without lunch. Or money, even. Or shoes, in my case.

Now you have to understand that the child wears dresses and tights EVERY. SINGLE. SECOND that she is awake and breathing. And because I am trying REALLY HARD to deny all that is white trash inside me, I refused to let her wear sneakers with a dress.

At the beginning of the school year, I bought her a very cute pair of Sketchers, which in my mind, WERE her sneakers (not to mention the ten other pairs of non-sneaker-like shoes taking up space in her closet). These have a rubber sole on the bottom, just like a sneaker, and cost a lot more than those ugly, light-blinking princess ones she wanted. But because they don't lace up and look like a traditional sneaker, the gym teacher has kept her inside.

Had they sent a note home, or called, I would have immediately gotten her the proper shoes. I may go to Wal-Mart in my sweats, and [gasp] without make-up, but dammit, my kids are well-dressed in public.

So now, in the eyes of the school, I am white trash mom no more. And in true Hannah form, she proudly wears those ugly pink and white sneakers with her dresses and tights. Which makes us look like white trash anyway.

I think I'll give up. I'm just going to throw my hair into a scrunchee, put on a moo-moo, rat my bangs, and celebrate with dinner at Chuck-E-Cheese.

At least there, I'll be with my own kind.

Things I learned this week

• Raking leaves before the trees are all bare is a very, very stupid thing. You WILL be raking again.
• Paying your children to help you rake is a good idea.
• In theory.
• They will want to play in every pile they make. Thus voiding all your hard work.
• And costing you money.
• When you are having a fight with The Husband, it is a good idea if he actually knows about the fight. Otherwise, you end up pouting and stewing for nothing.
• Having spiritual friends is a good thing. They will find creative ways to get your sorry soul to important church meetings like Saturday night stake conference.
• And you will still like them in spite of this.
• When The Husband buys a fire pit for the backyard, you should never let him "just get it started" inside. He will come very close to burning a hole in the floor.
• You should still try to like him in spite of this.
• Hiding the Halloween candy will not help you ignore it. You see, HALLOWEEN CANDY IS DELICIOUS, and it calls to you with its sweet, chocolate siren song.
• Favorite thing this week: Listening to my baby girl read ME stories for a change.

My favorite google searches

One of the coolest things about having a site meter (besides spying on all those lurkers who read my blog and never comment, HINT! HINT!) is being able to see what people are googling when they accidentally stumble my way.

I am pretty certain that when you type "Favorite things in the dark," you most definitely do not intend to read about my ramblings on such intellectually stimulating topics as pee, childbirth, and freckles. Okay. So I've never actually posted about pee. Or childbirth. But I could. I really could. I've got lots to say on those subjects if I wanted to.

But I won't.

Here are a few of my favorite Google searches. May you crazy people eventually find what you're looking for:

"Is it possible to make your eyeballs look bigger?" Oh, I sure hope not. But in this wacky world of ours, nothing would surprise me. It may be an untapped corner of the market for brave plastic surgeons. Don't be surprised when we see Dr. Rey doing one of these. This could be the before and after:

"Favorite things for old people." I get a lot of "favorite things for..." queries due to my title. I'd be interested in favorite things for old people, too. Any geriatric readers out there that can enlighten the rest of us? Depends? Blue hair dye? Denture adhesive? Polyester pants that go up to your armpits? No?

"My favorite vacation long paper." Can't you just picture some high school kid somewhere googling to find a paper he can steal on HIS favorite vacation, that was of course written by someone else. It made me laugh. Wonder what he thought when he pulled up pictures of my kids instead. Hee hee. Served you right, cheater.

"Who said you get them piping hot after 4 a.m." I don't even want to know what someone is looking to get piping hot after 4 a.m. All I know for sure is that Satan comes out after midnight. The Sunday School teachers told me. And I believe them.

"Least favorite thing about a bathroom." I can safely say that just BEING in the bathroom is my least favorite thing about a bathroom. But maybe that's just me. Maybe there are people who enjoy spending a lot of time there and have favorite things about the experience. Daniel? This one seems right up your alley. Do share. Actually, don't. Never mind.

"Is it possible that I'm not as attractive as I think I am?" Yes. It's not only possible, but it's a fact. You ARE ugly. Accept it, as I have, and move on.

"Hannah's world." I live in Hannah's world and I'm always looking for ways to get out of it. It's not very fun to be bossed around by a five-year-old that thinks one should always wear pink lace dresses and tiaras when out-and-about on the town. Even if one is almost 34.

"Scrapbook divorced dads." Yes, a scrapbook about divorced dads would indeed be a treasure. Provocraft - here's a new angle you might have missed in the scrapbooking product line.

"Things to do with your kids on a Sunday afternoon." How about declaring martial law, sticking them in front of a movie, and taking a four-hour nap? It ALWAYS works out well for me. I even find it useful on other days of the week. Like Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. And Wednesdays and Friday, too.

And my absolute favorite (which, oddly, has come up several different times) is:

"Martha Stewart naked."

Yes. Really.

Help me understand, internets, why ANYONE on god's green earth would want to see M.S. naked? Seriously? I guess there's all kinds out there.

And now they've been led to me. Awesome.

Internets, I need your help

I'm hoping to find out which Target sells this mirror. Does anyone know? Have you seen it in a store near you? I DESPERATELY need one. Today. Halloween candy does not a slim girl make.

[*Got this from my friend Cindy, who REALLY, REALLY needs to start a blog of her own. PULEEAASE!]

A simple math equation

What do you get when you add one rope + one large tree in the backyard + one gorgeous fall day + The Husband's ingenuity?

The answer? You get this, our new favorite toy:

Here's to simple, old fashioned things that keep them outside and away from the television. I am LOVING this. They're loving it, too. So much so that I find them out there at 6:30 in the morning, still in their PJs, gloves on their hands, swinging away.

Now THIS is a good thing.

The spookiest thing roaming the neighborhood this year

Have a happy eat-candy-until-you-purge day. Best wishes from a Swat Team Leader:

A Marine:


And Belle (I was so happy she didn't want to be Sleeping Beauty for the fourth year in a row. Progress, people!)

This year, I was going to dress up as a slightly fat, neurotic, mother of three who spends countless hours blogging, never cooks, and who is always looking for new ways to spend her husband's hard-earned money.

I couldn't find that costume at Party City, but found it when I looked in the mirror.

I think my costume will be the scariest.

So there, Dan

My brother, Dan, likes to make fun of me. A lot. And I LIVE to make fun of him. It's kind of our little thing. We have years of inside jokes that can sometimes be misconstrued here on the interweb. And his mockery is done with such voracity that my poor mother-in-law worried for weeks about the horrid comments being left on my blog by what she thought was her son-in-law. She was quite relieved to know that her daughter's husband doesn't call me a slut. Understandably so.

Well, I begged and pleaded for him to start a blog, which he has not updated since he began it in JULY. And thanks to my new friend lainakay at Goodness Gracious, I now have another REAL blog award to throw in the face of Daniel (who thinks he's cool for making up awards for his non-existent blogging).

So there, Daniel. I'm awesome; you're not. The internet says so. PPBBBEEWWWWWFFFFTTT (big raspberry from me to you).

P.S. Thanks, lainakay. You had NO IDEA what you were getting into, did you?

The many sides of Stie

As a wife, mother, sister, friend, den leader, neighbor, and more, I sometimes find it hard to define myself into just one particular category. I wear so many different hats, and find myself playing many roles. I am unable to find one nice, compartmentalized way to describe myself, so I thought I'd introduce you to all the many sides of Stie. Here are a few:

First, there is Mom Stie. Which actually can be broken further down into Angry Mom Stie, Nice Mom Stie, Teaching Mom Stie, Nurse/Cook/Chauffeur Mom Stie. You get the gist. But if you average all those Sties together, you get Mom Stie. Mom Stie loves her job. She really does. Even when she complains about it on the really bad days. Mom Stie cannot stand how fast her babies are growing up, yet she is so excited to see the little people they are becoming. Mom Stie relishes this job. She feels that finally, here is a job she is actually good at. She can nurse a bleeding cut, help with a homework project, tie a shoe, make dinner, answer the phone, paint a wall, and blog - ALMOST ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

Next we have Wife Stie. She's pretty nice, too, most of the time. She tries to be supportive to a really great guy who works hard knowing she is at home, eating chocolate and blogging. She adores her husband and wonders all the time why he likes her. Both Wife and Mom Stie are very organized. They wrote the book on OCD. And even though Wife Stie has very limited abilities when it comes to cooking meat, she does make a mean cheesecake. Which makes it easy for her husband forget that his meat was dry, his vegetables were limp, and his pasta overcooked. Wife Stie is pretty handy to have around.

Then there's Morning Stie. She would be a much nicer person if she didn't have to make an appearance before seven a.m. When she's roused from deep sleep and the clock says six-anything (even six fifty-nine), she's a very unhappy camper. The best thing to do when you see her is eat your waffles quietly and not ask her to do anything. She will slowly vacate the premises when handed a diet coke, so that is your best strategy if you ever meet up with her.

Then there's Mean Stie. Trust me when I tell you, you don't want to mess with her. She only comes out when any form of Stie or her children have been trampled on. She is pretty spiteful, so we try to keep her locked up as much as possible. She's not very fun at parties. And she's actually really ugly. She frightens small children and old people.

Next we have Sexy Stie. She is really more of a smoke-screen persona - an illusion that Realistic Stie likes to create now and then. She struts her stuff all fancy-like at the grocery store and then Realistic Stie notices that she forgot to put on something critical like mascara or deodorant. Sexy Stie then goes away for a very long time.

One of my favorites is Late-Night Stie. She is the no-holds-barred, laugh until you pee kind of girl. She generally only makes appearances when it's late at night and Proper Stie has gone to bed. She is bawdy, loud, and thinks of herself as being quite funny. She oftentimes cannot stop laughing at any and all activity around her. Some people don't like Late-Night Stie. I do. I wish she came over more often.

There IS a Spiritual Stie (believe it or not). She is the quiet whispering voice in all the other Sties' ears. Occasionally, outside events will bring her out, but it generally takes quite a bit of coaxing. She has a mild touch of agoraphobia. She doesn't like to wear her personality on her sleeve, unlike alot of the other Sties. She's working on overcoming her shyness and trying to make more public appearances. But it's hard for her sometimes.

The Stie that does appear most often is Regular Stie. She loves her kids and husband, and quite cheerfully takes care of their needs. She is friendly, and eager to get together with girlfriends. She likes to read, blog, and scrapbook. She's pretty balanced, and is almost always in a good mood. She does have a problem with the chocolate though, which we're working on.

After this week is over. I promise.

So that's me in a nutshell (operative word being shell, not case). Who are you? Please do share all the parts that make up your personality (I know there has be to many). I'd love to find out that I'm not the only one who is mildly schizophrenic.

And so would I.

And I.

And I.

Me, too.

Aww, shucks!

I have to give a big shout-out to my new pretend internet friend, Lisa at Take 90 West. She gave me this little bloggy award, which I am sure I do not deserve, but will take with much gratitude:

And as is bloggy tradition, I get to bestow this award upon a few fellow bloggers. The first goes to Celia Fae, who makes me laugh so hard that I have to be sure I go pee BEFORE reading her blog, lest any unfortunate incidents arise.

The second goes to June at Bye Bye Buy. She is just plain hilarious. Go check her out. If you're not reading her, you are missing out.

And thirdly, I award Jenny at Chased by Children. Because she is a mom blogging her way through suburbia, only with a very wicked sense of humor. And I like that in a blogger.

Things that are really annoying me today

1. The children are home from school today, which leaves me little time for blogging and stare-at-the-wall-alone-time. The nerve of those teachers thinking they need to go to conferences in order to teach better. I think you learn by doing. You want to teach well? Then teach my kids all year long. Saturdays and Sundays even. I PROMISE you'll learn a lot.
   
   
2. It is cold and rainy outside. Which every mother knows is a yet-to-be-proven law of physics that means my children will have more energy than ten college students strung out on speed and mountain dew.
   
   
3. The oldest of my children answered the door early this morning and let in the man from Geek Squad. Who was here for an appointment that I was supposed to cancel, but didn't because I forgot. The oldest child then led him through the maze of dirty socks and Legos to where I was on the treadmill in the basement. Imagine the feeling of looking up and seeing a strange man in your house at nine in the morning, when all you are expecting to see is naked children running around with light sabers.
   
   
4. I then got the privilege of writing a check to the strange man from the Geek Squad for doing nothing but seeing me in my smelly, ugly exercise clothes. Because apparently they have a policy that you pay anyway unless you cancel your appointment. That policy sucks, by the way (but probably not as much as seeing me in my exercise outfit does).
   
   
5. The toothless elderly man from next door has called no less than 13 times today. I am choosing not to answer because I am sure he and his wife are calling to either salvage my unrepentant soul and drag me off to another Bible Camp or invite me and my three children to a local tea house full of breakable porcelain kitties and dolls. Both of which are the EXACT opposite of where I want to spend any free time (and both of which are where I have been invited by them at least 13 times).
   
   
6. The oldest of my children gave me another rare treat today when he knocked on the bathroom door (as I was showering) and informed me that Mr. Toothless Elderly Man From Next Door was on the phone. HELLO, CHILDREN! THIS IS WHY WE HAVE CALLER ID!
   
   
7. I then got the privilege of calling Mr. Toothless Elderly Next Door Man back and making up yet another excuse for why we can't all go antiquing today in a town that is two hours away.
   
   
8. My hair. I'm serious. We are in a hair crisis of epic proportions. I am so overdue for a haircut, it's ridiculous. I look like I have straw wands for hair. My ends are so split that some of them have split ends of their own. And I realize to some (DANIEL, for one) that this does not constitute a real problem. And some of you may say that this is an easily solved crisis, but it remains one that I can't fix today. When it's bugging me. Which only serves to make me more annoyed.
   
   
9. The caramel apples I so foolishly bought at Sam's Club yesterday have been SCREAMING at me from the pantry to come and eat them. Why do I buy such tempting treats when I know that Halloween is right around the corner? WHY?
   
   
10. And finally, I am so fed up with the fact that Meredith Grey does not jump into McDreamy's arms and beg him to marry her and have lots of babies. Because it's what I would do. Except that I already did. Like 13 years ago. And now I have those babies. And they're loud, annoying, and leading strangers through the house early in the morning. Okay. Maybe I"m not so annoyed with her after all. Maybe I really GET her.

His, mine, and ours

His idea of good decorating:

Mine:

His bag:

Mine:

His side of the bed:

Mine:

His essential beauty regimen:

Mine:

His shoes:

Mine:

His breakfast of choice:

Mine:

His ideal movie night:

Mine:

His source for news and current events:

Mine:

It's true what they say - opposites do attract. And while he may say po-taw-to and I say poh-tay-toh, we do have a few things in common that we share:

Like our love for this:

This:

This:

And right now, THIS:

GO SOX!

All we can do

I interrupt my regularly scheduled sarcasm and bad writing to ask for your prayers on behalf of the good people in San Diego.

Due to the massive and uncontrollable fires, the area where we used to live has been evacuated. Schools have been closed. Good friends and family have been ordered to leave their homes. I can't imagine looking around my house and trying to decide what was important enough to take, and what I felt I could live without should my house burn to the ground.

Please pray that these fires can be contained. And pray that nobody else gets hurt.

Facing my fears

This was going to be it. This time would be my last, I was sure of it.

I stood in the endless line for the second time today, staring at the back of all the heads in front of me. I wondered if any of these people have been here before. I rocked back and forth, shifting my weight from leg to leg. I thought of my mental to-do list, and how none of it was going to get done today. I sighed, and wished this ordeal was already over. I said a silent prayer that I'd make it home by the time the kids get off the bus in two hours.

Slowly, painfully, the line shuffled forward. Nervously, I checked and re-checked. Did I have everything this time? Would I ever have to come back?

The woman behind me kept trying to get me to talk to her. I did not want to converse. Not here. Not this place. Every time I turned forward, thinking the conversation had ended, she tapped me on the shoulder and began anew. I was just too nervous to really concentrate on what she was saying. Something about bank accounts, assets, and China. Things that meant nothing to me right now.

There was a lot of grumbling going on in the line. People were losing patience. Rational people that had been pushed beyond their capacity to cope. I felt as though I was in the midst of an angry mob. Any moment, the crowd could turn and sweep us all away in the rage. And yet, the oblivious old woman kept chatting. Doesn't she realize this is not a place to talk? This is a place where we all wait silently. Obeying the rules. Doing what they tell us.

More shuffling forward. I check my watch again. Minutes pass by like hours, it seems. When I am sure that my knees will buckle and my legs will give out, I look up to see that I am almost there. I turn my back again on the chatty woman and re-check my papers. I feel slightly confident that all this will not have been in vain.

Oh joy! I am the next person in line. It is almost my turn. I WILL make it out of here. The man in front of me begins arguing. There is shouting, and waving of fists. Paperwork is slammed on the desk. I start to sweat. I feel my pulse quicken. Nervously I wonder, will it be like this for me, too?

He grabs his papers and heads for the door, shouting obscenities. Cursing the woman at the desk.

She cries back, "IT'S NOT LIKE I CHOSE THIS FOR A CAREER, YOU KNOW."

She turns to look at me, power and rage filling her eyes. Through gritted teeth she snarls, "NEXT!"

It's my turn to face the beast. I take a deep breath and step forward, keeping my head up. I stand in front of the desk and hand my papers to the woman, praying I have not made her angry.

She, the Nazi of the DMV.

Back to reality

I am out of the sick bed. Took the entire day yesterday and did nothing but sleep. It would have been absolutely lovely except for the minor annoyance of feeling like I poured acid down my throat and beat my head with a hammer. You know, except for that.

So I learned a few things taking a sick day; thought I'd share them:

1. Laundry doesn't do itself.
2. Ditto for the dishes, bathrooms, and floors.
3. When I am dying a slow and painful death, I won't care what state my house is in.
4. When I feel slightly better, I will be very annoyed at the mess.
5. I somehow always get sick when the Husband is out of town.
6. There is NOTHING of value on the telly during the daytime. Nothing.
7. Eggo waffles make an excellent breakfast AND dinner for the children. [But then again, I already knew that.]
8. I will only make the mistake of forgetting to turn the phone off once. Pity the poor survey taker who woke me up yesterday afternoon.
9. When opening my bedroom windows for some fresh air, it is a good idea to remember to close them once it starts pouring rain. The soggy carpet will not be a treat.
10. Waking up to a ton of well-wishes on the blog makes me happy. Gracias to you, all my bloggy friends.

P.S. I am NOT, I repeat, NOT pregnant. But thanks for asking.

sick day

I cannot deny it any longer. I am sick.

I am achy, all stuffed up, and have a raw sore throat. As the mother in this family, I NEVER get sick. I am not allowed to be sick.

Today I am declaring myself sick and crawling back under the covers. [Right after I finish blogging about how sick I am, of course.]

See you tomorrow.

[Don't do any great blogging while I'm away.]