I've been tagged!! Tagged, I tell you!!

8 Shows I watch:
Pushing Daisies (cancelled now: sniff, sniff)
The Office
The Mentalist
Divine Design
Kath & Kim
What Not to Wear
Project Runway
America's Test Kitchen

8 Restaurants I Like To Eat At:
Mi Ranchito
Five Guys
Jason's Deli
Lydia's
Hire's
Jaleo (*sigh* Jaleo, how I miss thee)


8 Things I Did Today:
Put up wreaths
Wandered through Ulta and picked out nail polish
Ate lunch at Five Guys
went to the library
watched Polar Express with kids
painted nails with previously mentioned polish (OPI's I only drink champagne)
cleaned the kitchen
listened to Christmas music on Pandora

8 Things I Am Looking Forward To:
Christmas
Spring
New Moon
my hair growing out (stupid impulse)
Bub's potty-training
lights on Temple Square
Getting the broken "a" on my laptop fixed (side note: Don't try vacuuming your keyboard with the hose attachment. It might not go well.)

8 Things On My Wish List:
A Volvo XC70. Silver, if you please.
Bubs to potty-train himself
A prime lens for my camera
Orla Kiely multi-stem tote bag
professional flat iron
my hair to grow out
for some genius, somewhere in the world, to conjure up a way to eliminate all laundry (Geniuses, where are you??)
a Christmas without any of us getting sick

8 People I Tag:
anyone who wants to participate...

Need some help with your Thanksgiving dinner?

Wonderboy's teacher sent home a booklet entitled "How to cook a Thanksgiving Turkey". She included direct quotes from each child individually on their best advice for successfully preparing a turkey. I'm pretty sure it's the funniest thing I've ever read. And here is Wonderboy's best suggestion for a delicious turkey:

"Well, what you would do, is in the middle of the turkey put some lemon and stuff in it so it would taste good when it's time to eat it. When you are cooking it, you tie the legs up so all the stuff won't fall out. Right after that, you tuck the wings under, so when it cooks, the part on the other side of the wing where it doesn't show will get crispy and good too. If it doesn't, then no one will want to eat that part. You want to put some of that white stuff and the black stuff over it and that will make it good to eat on the top too. It will have some flavor AND be crispy from the salt and pepper!"

Got it? And that, my friends, is what hours of the food network will achieve for your six year old. Easy, peasy, lemon squeazy. He will totally be cooking our turkey.

This'll put a wiggle in it

I dare you to turn this up and try not to bum dance.

Happy Monday.

Just One Reason Why I'm Glad I Don't Drink

I have been laid up with what my sister referred to as THE DEATH COLD. Not those colds with a couple of days of sniffling and a headache. No, I'm talking about the cold variety where you pretty much need to crawl into bed and sleep for 4 days while your body alternates between feverish bouts of sheet-drenching sweats, and bone-jolting chills where you huddle under a down comforter and pray for death to come swiftly. The kind of cold where you lose track of how much Tylenol you've choked down, but figure Poison Control doesn't need to be notified since the bottle of 500 pills isn't empty yet. The kind of cold that makes you wish your kids would spontaneously and mysteriously lose their voices because EVERY SOUND they generate threatens to burst your eardrums.

Well, something tipped things over the edge the other night, and whether it was the Tylenol, Sudafed, Thera-Flu or the codeine cough suppressant I took before bed, or some combination of any of the above, I'm not sure. But I awoke about 3 a.m., sweating profusely and feeling a wee bit queasy. I got out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. After flipping on the light, I debated hanging out on my knees in front of the toilet...waiting, but I suppose I decided I could will it to pass and so I figured I'd, ahem, use the facilities while I was there. You know, just because I like to be efficient like that. And here's where the whole drinking thing comes in. E heard a huge thud in the bathroom, and I came to, lying on the cold floor...with my britches around my ankles. And in my stupor I actually thought to myself, Is this what it's like to be completely sloshed? and Hey, this cold floor feels really good on my face. I got myself on my feet and staggered out of the bathroom and I thought I collapsed back on my side of the bed, but later realized I fell crosswise at the foot of the bed, face down, with my legs dangling off. I think E was sitting upright in bed repeatedly asking me if I was okay. I think I moaned "noooo".

So there it is. If waking up on the floor, hoping not to puke on yourself, and wondering if you forgot your britches, is what it's like to imbibe, I'm glad I don't. I'm very, very glad I don't. And thanks to mom and dad for bringing me up right and teaching me to always pull up my britches.

A Token of Appreciation

See, when you've reached the five-year mark at The Bank, you're not only fully vested in your 401k (plummeting in value, though it may be), but you ALSO receive a glossy brochure full of gadgets, jewelry, and sports equipment from which you may chose your very own gift! Sort of a 'Sure Do Appreciate Ya' memento. And I'll tell you, choices may not be a good thing for one such as our very own E. He doesn't handle choices well. Choices make him lose his train of thought and start walking in aimless circles, wringing his hands. I'm not kidding, just ask him. So the shiny brochure was perused and puzzled over. I think there may have even been an expiration date involved, as well as a gentle reminder nudge from a superior or two - like, We do value your service, really, we do! But for the love of all that's holy, make a choice, man!!

So now that the suspense is eating away at you, and you're biting your thumbnail wondering WHAT DID HE CHOOSE? What could he look at daily to remind him of his value in the workplace? What could possibly stand as a symbol of five years of dedicated service? Please, PLEASE, do tell!!

Well, since you're wondering, it would be the T-fal Family Pro DEEP . FAT . FRYER.

And I'm not joking around when I say I fear for the future of my family's health. Because apparently there's A LOT of foods that can be fried. Oh, the possibilities...I'm gagging at the thought.

Here he is, feeling all appreciated and enjoying his reward.

Everyone got in on a little doughnut action. We told the kids it was Family Home Frying Doughnuts Evening. And Wonderboy questioned what we could possibly learn about God by frying doughnuts. I told him I am quite certain God enjoys a warm doughnut now and then, when his schedule allows.

"Bread? Deep-fried? AND rolled in SUGAR?? Yes please!!"

This apparent loyalty has nothing to do with the boy, and everything to do with the doughnut.

Let's all hope that should he reach the 10-year mark, he will be offered a treadmill, a weight set, or a free echo cardiogram.

We'll miss him

Allow me to be sappy and indulgent. Yesterday was Simon's last with us. We've seen him slowly diminish this past year without adequate explanation. It has been unexpectedly difficult to watch.

I'll choose to remember him at 20+ pounds with a belly waddle that threatened to take out innocent bystanders. I'll remember that he quacked instead of meowed. I'll remember that he often slept curled around the feet of my children when they were tiny babies. That he loved Fancy Feast. That he loved a vigorous brushing. That he slobbered when he purred too much. That his tail had a strange, crooked tip. And that we had to shut him up downstairs at night because otherwise he would bite my hair to wake me in the early morning hours.

Bubs is oblivious. Fia wonders when he'll be back. Tomorrow? Next week? Next year? And Wonderboy comprehends all too clearly that he won't be back. And you don't know pain until you watch your six-year-old break down in wracking sobs.

And so, although he was just a cat, there have been many tears shed today by all of us because he was part of our family. And he will be sorely missed.

Halloween. Done and done.

We've survived the week. And that, my friends, is a small miracle. Because when Bubs ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. What started as a cold, turned into a full-blown virus camp-out in Bub's throat that left him with blister-like lesions lining his esophagus, and a three day hunger strike. And when your throat hurts, you apparently don't want to swallow - at all - so you may decide that leaving your mouth agape and just letting that steady stream of drool fall where it may is about your only option. So we've been swimming in drool, and listening to his heart-breaking sobs and moans this week. All I'm saying is It . Has . Been . A . Week .

We've had some fun though. School parties and costume parades are just the thing for building excitement and giddy anticipation for the BIG NIGHT. Here's my handsome cowpoke, and sweet little cow-poke-ette parading about...

Last Halloween Fia declared she would be a cowgirl for this Halloween. But you know how us girls are, all wishy-washy and changing our minds all the time, right? So last month I asked her what she wanted to be and she rolled her eyes in exasperation and said "MOM, I ALREADY told you last year. I WANT TO BE A COWGIRL THIS TIME." Yes Ma'am! When I finished up her outfit, Wonderboy determined he would like to be a cowboy. So there you go. A cowgirl and a cowboy....and, er, a spider.

Bubs started to perk up yesterday morning and was 100 percent on board when he realized trick-or-treating was on the schedule. (He had some excellent practice at the church party.) In fact, he tried to get an early start as I was lighting the pumpkins on the porch last night. He noticed a woman walking by on the sidewalk, so he scooted across the lawn to her, hoisted his pumpkin treat bag at her, and when she told him she had no candy, he proceeded to make off with her cell phone.

And because I can't get enough of the crazy web-spinning go on around our yard I thought I'd show off the spooky web a kindly, obliging arachnid built up next to our front porch. Timely and in keeping with the holiday. I may have to reconsider my general attitude about creepy, crawlies.