Wasting away to nothing.

We've been alerted to the fact that Wonderboy has been demonstrating his clever cunning for his primary teachers - a well-meaning couple who are young and don't yet have children (translation: suckers). They spoke to a member of the bishopric because they were concerned there might be 'problems' with our family. Since E spends every Sunday morning in meetings with the bishopric, the story came right back to us.

.

The sad plight as told by Wonderboy: (Cue violins) We have no food in the house. Nothing, NOTHING to eat. Except maybe a little water now and then. We are starving, wasting away because we have no food. It's a wonder we survive with nothing to eat. We're starving! Oh, and our house is freezing. (Violins fade)

.

Yesterday his situation improved a little. He told his teachers he was allowed one banana.

.

So we are going to start a Feed Wonderboy Fund. Anyone who has fallen for this waif's sad, sad story, feel free to send donations. All proceeds will go directly to the purchase of more bananas.

Masterpiece Theater, How I Love Thee

I've mentioned E's penchant for Miss Marple and other scrappy old ladies who solve mysteries on PBS, but I do not share this affection. I am most decidedly not interested in any PBS production that involves the investigation of a grizzly crime. What I do love, adore, more than anything are the lovely, LOVELY, productions of classic novels on Masterpiece Theater. The recent Jane Eyre was gorgeous. I've watched this over, and over, and OVER. I should just buy the DVD. I'm wearing out the DVR.

Anyway, leave it to Masterpiece Theater to blow me away again, first with Persuasion last Sunday (Anne Elliot's regret and old maid plight is perfect torture), and then with Northanger Abbey tonight (Catherine is adorably fanciful, you can't help but warm to her). Next week, Mansfield Park. I can't wait. Jane Austen was a genious. GENIOUS. I love these old novels, and PBS does right by them.

To his credit, E watches right with me. And doesn't mention Miss Marple even once.

Little Man Syndrome

It's hard to be a two-for-the-price-of-one kind of kid and come third in birth-order. He's just not big enough for his ambitious, go-get-'em personality, which probably explains the ever present bruises and black eyes. He's impossible to contain. If the bigger kids can do it - so must he. And if there's something that CAN be climbed, it WILL be climbed. I found him here the other day trying to comb his hair with a comb he found somewhere. When he's not completely sapping my energy, he really cracks me up.

Why I married him

Simply put he cooks.

Lovely pasta for my lovely new pasta bowls.



Ok, I'm sure there were other reasons. But in all fairness, it is hard to remember them when I'm busy stuffing myself full of chicken and broccoli pasta with sun-dried tomatoes and asiago...

Oh, and does he bake?? Of course! My funny neighbor calls these "killer cookies". I made sure to save a little cranny in my stomach for these after dinner.

Eons ago I was a handbell ringer...and I should probably be embarrassed to admit that...

...but it explains why this is off-the-charts funny to me:

Handbell Hero

Sample success!

And it may have involved an infant medicine dropper and a Gladlock container. That's all I will say about it, except to add that my best incompetent efforts to complete the task successfully (I locked him in a room with shredded newspaper all day, I swear!) led to E taking over. Tee hee. Good news: not diabetic. Bad news: expensive blood tests will probably turn up hyperthyroidism. And for the record, the picture in the last post was of his formerly robust and pleasantly plump self. Here is his newly svelte, 30% smaller figure:

In a pickle.

My formerly 18 pound cat Simon, who I can count on to be swirling around my legs when I'm in the middle of anything requiring speed and efficiency in the kitchen and most definitely NOT benefited by a cat who happens to QUACK when stepped on, has dropped to a scrawny 13 pounds. The veterinarian has proposed that I bring in a urine sample. YES - a URINE sample. From a cat. Now, aside from the fact that I am worried about what has gone wrong with his health and I realize it's probably uncouth to casually blog about something as disgusting as cat pee, I'm simultaneously grossed out and amused that I find myself needing to collect a pee sample. The vet suggests replacing the litter in his box with bits of shredded newspaper and then hope for an unabsorbed trickle somewhere in the mess. And what, I wonder, would be an appropriate receptacle for said sample? Ick, ick. But kind of funny, no?

Splashy, sloshy, wet and soggy

It's a Wellies sort of day.

Phew!

There is truly something restoring in resuming the daily routine. Without a schedule to keep over our holiday break, we've languished in bed until 8:30 in the morning (except of course for E who sends a scornful glance my way as he passes me cozily snoozing under the down comforter before 6 a.m. each weekday), perhaps rummaged up breakfast around 9:30 and puttered around feeling a bit aimless (but not necessarily in a bad way...) until the day is absolutely frittered away. My day's accomplishments might be limited to changing a long since burnt out light bulb or actually feeding the dog. As nice as it is to feel that there is really no argument at all to waste energy changing out of one's pajamas, there comes a point when you want things to return to their regular hectic pace. So, it is with all this in mind that we woke up at 8:30 this morning one last time.

School resumed today (FINALLY! YES! Insert Hallelujah chorus here!) so no more excuses for us. Time to look alive! Just making it through the holidays and putting away the Christmas decorations leaves me desperate to do some deep down cleaning. I want to muck out the stalls and organize every nook and cranny. But with big kid in school and little kids napping I spent my first quiet afternoon in three weeks doing...I have no idea what. I'm pretty sure I might have spent my few hours of quiet, kid-free time staring blankly at the wall, mouth agape. How sad.

Anyhow, I did accomplish something, one thing - if by some generously imaginative thinking we might even consider it an accomplishment - over the break. Given the lack of decent TV viewing options (what makes writers think they should earn a paycheck?!? Sheesh!) and because I need to keep my book addiction in check, I discovered a new fixation: Carcassonne, a German tile building board game. E and I are obsessed. Just pack the little ones off to bed and we are ready to start strategizing like nobody's business. Of course I wipe the floor clean with E. Carcassonne: The Castle is also very diverting. So if you're avoiding the mountains of laundry and dust bunnies the size of tumbleweeds blowing past,feeling the overwhelming urge to scour every corner of your roost, like I am, - but maybe you'll start tomorrow - perhaps seek out one of these enjoyable games. I would advise letting your spouse win occasionally or they might skulk off in a pout thereby bringing the gaming to an abrupt end.

And now to appease the grandparents, kid photos:

The kids first sledding experience

Ready for church. Three hours of church later, and these two perky angels will be magically transformed into the orneriest scowling grumps you've ever seen.

And the cutest milkmaid ever enjoying a 65 degree day in January.