There's Snow Place Like Home

I love snow, but I think that dreaming of a white Christmas may be a lot more fun than actually having a white Christmas. Just saying.

Not-So-Grand Theft

[I found this little jewel of a news story lounging around in my email archives. I can't believe I never posted it here as part of my ongoing series of "Weird and Wacky" news. For the record, I'm sure the woman breathed a huge sigh of relief when 9 of her missing Fruit Roll-Ups were recovered, unharmed. ~cn]
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Woman reports theft of 2o Fruit Roll-Ups

Two teenagers broke into a Cabin Lane Drive home and ate several Fruit Roll-Ups, before the homeowner caught them lounging around her house at 11:30 p.m. Saturday, according to an Athens-Clarke police report. One of the teens told the woman he was friends with her niece and that she let them in. But after the teens left, the woman noticed a broken kitchen window and 20 missing Fruit Roll-Ups. The teens also took a jug of fruit juice and several pieces of jewelry, police said.

The pair split up upon leaving, but police later found them in the neighborhood and were able to return nine of the Fruit Roll-Ups to the woman. Police also found a bag of marijuana on one of the teens, according to the report. news@onlineathens.com | Story updated at 8:42 pm on 9/27/2009

What's This?

Halloween has spilled over into Christmas at SpookyTimeJingles.

Happy Merry Halloween Christmas!!

P.S. Don't forget to enter my giveaway.
Click the picture below to enter.

Two Steps Forward. . .

. . . 18 steps back.

:-/

(But I am getting there. . . or, at least I'm getting somewhere, anyway. See you soon.)

Panic Attack

I am certain that "Panic" is the inevitable offspring of the unholy union of "Procrastination" and "Deadlines." Ack! So much to do....so little time left to put off doing it.

Serenity now.....



Good grief.

A Word of Advice. . .

Never trust your dog with a Sharpie pen.



Even if sometimes he looks as cute (and innocent) as this.
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+
Addendum:
I didn't take a pic of this particular Sharpie-chewing incident. [There have been several Sharpie adventures, plus one unfortunate event involving Jude sampling a bottle of neon green tempera poster paint.] However the photo below shows a taste (haha, pun intended) of the kind of havoc Hurricane Jude can create.

Kids These Days...

I'm not sure what to make of this, but my college girl asked if she could borrow something of out of my closet for a party she was attending tonight. Turns out the theme of the party is "Tacky Christmas."
*
It seems that "tacky" may not always be something you wear.
:)

What Time Is It?

It's GIVEAWAY time!!! Just in time for Christmas, The Primitive Gathering is hosting a giveaway of one of my prints.
"Wow! How do I enter?" you ask? All you have to do is leave a comment on this post by December 15 for a chance to win this framed, limited edition signed print. (Please make sure you provide an email address if you don't have one linked to your comments. USA residents only please.) And.....you can double your chances of winning by skipping on over to the PG and registering there too.
But there's more! While you're at The Primitive Gathering, take a tour of the site and check out all the wonderful artists represented there. So much crafty goodness! You just might find something you can't live without. :)
P.S. If you're the lucky winner, I promise I won't send you anything which requires veterinary services.

And, one more thing. Please take a moment to click the "Support Our Troops" icon below to send a thank you card greeting to a member of our armed services. It only takes 30 seconds, and it's free!!

This Is What Too Much Turkey Will Do To You

At last count, this video had a total of 152,262 views. I think I may be responsible for at least 148,211 of them. Okay, maybe more.
And I still laugh. Every. Single. Time.
Oh my cats, I probably need to get out more.

Sibling Rivalry

Sibling rivalry takes on an entirely new level tonight. UGA plays GaTech, and our house is divided right down the middle. Two kids cheer for Georgia. Two kids cheer for GaTech. It's a high stakes game for family state pride and a battle for a year's worth of ribbing and bragging rights.
So in the interest of fairness, I will remain neutral. . . sort of.*



But it's an exciting day no matter who you cheer for, and I got a taste of the pregame giddiness as our two college girls were getting ready to go. One girl is dressed in Georgia Bulldawg red. The other is rocking her Ramblin' Reck yellow. And both are as cute as can be!
In a side note, I asked our oldest girl if she was planning to take a blanket to the chilly night game. She looked at me like I was from Planet Dork and said, "Not cool, Mom. I may as well bring a Snuggie. Gah!"
I guess being warm is so old school. :)

*Go Dawgs

We Have a Winner

You may be like me and think, "I never win anything." One of the few raffles our family ever won involved a turkey. My kids attended a carnival at school many years ago, and each guessed the number of jellybeans in a jar to win a free turkey. Wow, a free turkey! At 50 cents a pop, I thought it was money well spent, since our family does eat occasionally, and the money raised was going to support the school; plus it kept each kid engrossed in the counting for several minutes. (Mothers with four small children will pay big money to have 5 minutes of sanity.) Soon it was on to funnel cakes and face painting, and the jelly bean turkey raffle was quickly forgotten. Monday rolled around and my oldest jumped off the bus carrying some sort of wood and chicken-wire box. "What on earth have they been doing in art class these days?" I wondered as my son ran to the car and proudly announced that HE was the lucky raffle grand prize winner. Well, technically, he didn't win, but all of the other "winners'" moms wouldn't let them take home the prize. Somehow I missed that memo, because this "grand prize" just happened to still be covered in feathers and was staring at me. . . . and gobbling. I would have been happier with second prize, which was a jar and 1253 jelly beans.


P.S. In case you're wondering, our turkey received a name, and a full presidential pardon. Have a blessed Thanksgiving!

[Originally posted in 2007]

Adventure is Out There (And Also, Knitting)

My middlest kid* went sky diving last Saturday. And I found out after the fact, which is probably a win/win situation. Win #1 -- she didn't tell me before she went, so I wasn't worried. Win #2 -- she made it back on solid ground, safely. When she called me from the airfield to share her exciting news, I was mildly shocked, and I told her she was a little "stinker." A wise friend was a little less poetic when he told her that there are only two things that fall from the sky: bird poop and fools.

In retrospect, I should have known that something was up when my girl hinted a few weeks ago that she was considering jumping out of plane. That seems to have been a rather obvious clue. When she asked me what I thought about the possibility of her going sky diving, I was a bit surprised and told her not to tell me if she ever did. Then I chalked it up to a college dare which would never be fulfilled, and promptly filed that little bit of conversation in the Scarlett O'Hara part of my brain labeled, "I'll Think About That Tomorrow." After all, this was the same kid who practically stayed glued to my hip for her entire infancy and the better part of her toddler years. This was the kid who waited until she was 14 months old to start walking (not because she didn't want to walk, but because, with two older siblings and an overly affectionate and clumsy Labrador, it was just safer to stay near the ground.) This is also the kid who, unlike her other siblings, never once thought about climbing out of her crib. Ever. This is the same kid who was terrified of an over-active pre-school classmate named Jimmie Lee. Jimmie Lee wasn't really a bad kid, but his rough and tumble, all-boy antics terrified my shy little girl. She kept a safe distance far away from his boisterous ways for most of the year, until one day when she had an epiphany. When I came to her classroom to pick her up from preschool Middlest ran to me and excitedly proclaimed, "Mama!! Guess what! I'm not afraid of Jimmie Lee anymore!!" It was a pivotal moment in her young life.


So the recent news that Middlest was even considering sky diving, and then the revelation that she had actually taken such a daring plunge may have surprised me, but it also made me smile. Truthfully, the mama hen in me would like to keep those apron strings firmly tied.....just a little longer; to have my girl stay on the ground, to go the safe route. I would have steered her toward learning a new language, or trying her hand at knitting --something in which gravity played a minimal role in the ultimate outcome. But the mother hen in me also admired her moxie. I was excited and proud that she had stepped out of her comfort zone [quite literally!] and that she had discovered something new that she wasn't afraid of, a different kind of "Jimmie Lee." Middlest wrote about her adventure on her blog and posted a quote by Henry David Thoreau, “How vain is it to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live?”
And then, do you know what that stinker did? She had the nerve to invite me to go with her the next time she goes sky diving. With her?! Next time?! Oh Mylanta! I'm all for "standing up to live," but jumping out of planes?? No, thank you! Everyone knows that mother hens don't fly, and they certainly don't jump out of planes!
I think I'll take up knitting, merci beaucoup.


* I call her the "middlest" because she's the third of four kids, the middle of the middle-- sandwiched between her older and younger sisters.

Just Chillin'......

He's chillin' over at SpookyTimeJingles.

Chilly, man, chilly.

:)

Happy Friday!

Guest Post

The following is an article my dad wrote recently for a local newspaper. It is just too precious not to share. Enjoy! ~cn

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A special Halloween, no thanks to me

About 20 years ago Matthew and I went trick or treating. We joined the several young spookers knocking on doors. But we were a bit different from the preschool and elementary school-age spooks up and down the neighborhood.

I was about 60 and Matthew was about 20.

Matthew was a special patient of mine and a special person as well. Matthew had a rare in-born malady that resulted in very poor lung function, a weak heart and significant developmental delay. Children with his syndrome usually die before age 13.

Mostly because of his parent’s exceptional care, Matthew was alive at 20. He and his parents had dropped by our house for a short visit that Halloween.

I suggested I take Matthew around our neighborhood for his share of the spoils of the evening. As we set out on our rounds, I instructed Matthew. “When someone answers the door say, ‘Trick or treat,’ and hold out your bag. Then say, ‘Thank you.”

At the first house I rang the doorbell and when the door opened Matthew remained mute. After a minute or two he held out his bag and the owner rewarded him with candy. No “Thank you” was evident.

As we left I reminded Matthew, “Remember. Say, ‘Trick or treat’ and hold out your bag and say, ‘Thank you.’” At the next house he forgot his lines again but held out his bag.

At every house the same thing. No words. A bag produced. Candy. No “Thank you.”

Toward the end of our block Matthew became bolder and entered a few houses uninvited and shook hands with everyone there. (Matthew was very big on hand shakes.)

We finished our rounds with a bag full of candy and not a single “Trick or treat” or ”Thank you” uttered.

The next day at church services, Matthew and his parents walked past us as we sat in our accustomed pew. Matthew leaned over toward me and said softly, “Trick or treat.”

Retired pediatrician Bill now spends his days working with wood (“mostly making sawdust”), fishing (“but not very well”), puttering around his garden and writing.

Our Cat: Con Artist/Escape Artist, Extraordinaire

It was chilly and wet outside yesterday. Friendly -- who is an outside cat, but chooses not to believe that about himself -- sat on the ledge outside our kitchen window, looking especially mournful and needy and soggy. So Youngest Kid and I decided he needed some TLC, and we sneaked him inside the house, past our dog, Jude The Cat Hater.

Okay, let me rewind just a bit, and provide a little background information:

If you remember, Friendly was a stray cat who "found" us and conned my husband into bringing him home by pretending to be friendly. The truth is that Friendly wasn't really friendly at all; he was just hungry and desperate and saw an opportunity for a free meal when he stumbled upon my husband and our kids cleaning out a warehouse near our home. The kids gave their new "friend" a couple of hot dogs and decided that this was THE friendliest cat they'd ever met. The deal was sealed and Friendly left the warehouse with a full tummy, a new name, and a new home.

Until a couple of years ago Friendly was in charge of things around our home, and was accustomed to inviting himself inside our house on a regular, almost daily basis. He often crouched at the back door, poised and ready to gain entrance when an unsuspecting patsy might open the door. In an orange, furry flash Friendly would bolt inside and disappear upstairs, looking for a comfortable place to take a long winter nap. Friendly ruled the roost. He was the "lord of his castle, the sovereign, the liege."* He was what you might call, "Top Dog."



However, Friendly's world was turned upside-down with the arrival of his arch nemesis, Jude. You might also remember our fun-loving dog Jude, who came to live with us after he and our son graduated from college. Our son went off to conquer the world and Jude came to the farm to conquer our house. Which he did. Jude is a canine version of Will Rogers and he loves almost everyone and every thing he meets. However, for some reason Jude has decided that he does not like cats. At all. In fact, Jude takes his role as the #1 He-Man Cat Hater very seriously. He's even appointed himself the unofficial border patrol and vigilantly guards the back door against any and all covert feline invasions. As a result, Friendly has had to suffer the indignity of being a full-time outside cat. His inner "inside kitty" has been forced to once again take a back seat, and regular lazy afternoon naps inside a warm house are a thing of the past.


Now, back to yesterday:

After we sneaked Friendly inside the house and past the pooch patrol, my Youngest Kid quietly carried him upstairs and closed the door. Jude never even suspected a thing! Friendly quickly found his old favorite sleeping spot, which happens to be inside one of the drawers of Youngest Kid's dresser. Yes, Friendly insists that she pull the drawer partway open so he can stretch out on top of her clothes. We let Friendly stay inside the house for most of the afternoon, but as nightfall approached I decided it was time to put him out before Jude became suspicious. Youngest Kid went upstairs to get him, but the elusive feline was nowhere to be found. The door upstairs had been shut all day, so we knew he had to be there somewhere. Youngest kid looked all over. I looked all over. We looked in the closets. We looked in the bathroom. We looked under the beds. We looked behind the dresser. We looked inside the dresser. Friendly was just not there. NOWHERE. Dumbfounded, the kid and I came downstairs (again, closing the upstairs door) thinking Friendly must have somehow found a way out. But Friendly wasn't anywhere, and we literally had no idea where he could be.


In order to protect the peace in the house, we knew we had to find that cat before #1 He-man Cat Hater did, so Youngest Kid and I decided to check one more time upstairs. We went into Youngest Kid's room, and whaddaya know, there was Friendly, in her room, laying contentedly in his favorite spot, looking at us with that disgusted-Friendly-look, just like he'd been there the entire time!! It was crazy! I still have no idea where he'd been and the best conclusion we could come up with for his "now you see him, now you don't" moment, is that Friendly is some sort of a feline Houdini. The only thing he lacks is a little cat cape and a cat-sized top hat. :)

*[Bonus points if you can name the movie where I got that quote.]

My Heart is Dancin' to a November Tune. . .

November Blue ~ by The Avett Brothers

Halloween Greetings

How does time go by so quickly?? It seems like we were just celebrating the 4th of July, when I looked up and realized it was almost Halloween. I can't believe I let things slip up on me because there is nothing I enjoy more than a bright orange pumpkin . . . or two . . . or ten, sitting around. So yesterday I rushed out to get one . . . or two . . . or ten! I know I spent way too much time inspecting each candidate, mulling over the individual nuances in color and shape, and trying to decide on just the right pumpkin for our Jack-O-Lantern. Eventually I came home with not one (or ten), but two perfect pumpkins.




It reminded me of when my kids were smaller, and the "event" that Halloween was. Next to Christmas, it was always the highlight of the year. For many years my in-laws hosted a pumpkin carving party for all their grandchildren, and they also invited tons of the neighborhood kids too. My mother-in-law spent hours decorating her house with handmade tissue ghosts and stringy spider webs. Then she brewed some wonderful apple cider and baked mountains of delicious Halloween goodies. My father-in-law drove to a local farm and bought dozens of pumpkins for the party, and each child was allowed to select his own pumpkin from the pick-up truck filled to overflowing with the orange bounty. It was always fun to watch the reactions of different children when it came time to scoop out the gooey contents from the pumpkins!! Usually there were a few daredevils who dove in hands first, slinging pumpkin goo with abandon; others were much less willing to get messy, so mom or dad might need to lend a hand or give a little extra encouragement. Each kid was also given a sharpie pen to create a perfect Jack-O-Lantern masterpiece. Some little artists labored forever drawing just the right face on the bumpy, uneven surface. Other kids whipped out a JOL face in record time. (And to prevent the need for a trip to the ER, the adults did the carving. :)

Such wonderful memories for so many kids (and grown-ups too!) Happy Halloween!

Sneak Peeks.......

Hey, Robo-Callers.....

. . . I voted two weeks ago, so I'm not answering the phone again until after Tuesday.

With 5 registered voters in our household, our family must be the political equivalent of a voting motherload. Five voters. . . in one house! Every political Tom, Dick, and Harry (plus a few Tippecanoe and Tylers too) must have our phone number; and each one insists on telling me how despicable the other guy is, and then begins begging for my vote, at least 18 times a day. No joke, we had close to 10 messages on our machine yesterday. Ten messages. In. One. Day. It's like a telephone version of Spam-a-lot, or an annoying neighbor who keeps knocking on the door asking for a cup of sugar.
Now, I'm all for the First Amendment, but somehow I'm not sure this is what the Founding Fathers had in mind when they envisioned free and open political discourse. After all, they didn't even have caller ID back then.

I Have a Bad Case of WRS

Image found here: University Lifestyle

White Rabbit Syndrome (WRS): A condition in which the "hurrier" you go, the "behinder" you get.

Only known cure: Take a deep breath, face looming deadlines head-on, and keep plugging along. Or, if that doesn't work, then get rid of all clocks. :)

Deadlines, schmedlines!

"Let Us Run With Perseverance The Race That Is Set Before Us..."

“I ate more fettucini alfredo, and drank less water, than I ever have in my entire life. People always talk about triumphs of the human spirit. Well, today I had a triumph of the human body. That’s why everyone was applauding me at the end. My guts, my heart. And, while I eventually puked my guts out, I never puked my heart out.” ~Michael Scott, The Office

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I almost chickened out, but today I ran my very first 5-K. I wouldn't classify it as "fun," but it really wasn't that bad. . . and I didn't even "puke my guts out!!"

Two of my daughters came home from college last night to run the race with me, so this morning I knew there was no turning back. We got up early, grabbed a quick (light :) breakfast, bundled up, and headed out the door. I was a little nervous, but the girls, who are experienced runners, calmed my nerves; and when the race started, they helped set my pace. When my mind started finding excuses to slow down or (heaven forbid!) quit, they encouraged me along the way and distracted me with chatter and laughter. The very best part was that, near the end, each of my girls grabbed one of my hands, and we all crossed the finish line together. A little unorthodox, but to me it was an epic finish. Our time was 26:38, which even qualified me for an award in the "old lady" category!! Ha! What a day.

“Life’s battles don't always go to the strongest or fastest man,
But sooner or later the man who wins is the fellow who thinks he can.”
~Steve Prefontaine

Cars Will Be Cars

And sometimes our temperamental and fickle car gets on my very last nerve. Perhaps it may be time for an upgrade; or at the very least, it may be time to find out when the next stagecoach passes this way.

New Kids on the Blog

It's that time again over at SpookyTimeJingles!

Swing over for all things spooky......


And for all things Jingly....

Also check out the very special guest artist!!!!!

Out With the Old

[Here's another article for my "Weird and Wacky Local News" file. Again, I'm rendered a bit speechless by the headline, and quite honestly, I just have to wonder what was going through the donor's mind as he cleaned out his closets. "You know, honey, it's high time we got rid of all this stuff and we just don't really need all this old ammo anymore. I'm sure there's someone out there who could find a good use for these junky old bullets."

Whatever happened to donating "Sweatin' to the Oldies" videos, or Grandma's old tupperware, or creepy David Hasselhoff CDs, or bright orange Naugahyde ottomans?? What were these people thinking?! ~cn]



Donor leaves ammo with local Goodwill

Athens Banner-Herald -- Published Thursday, October 07, 2010

A worker at Goodwill, 10 Huntington Road, turned over a BB gun and eight types of ammunition to Athens-Clarke police after someone donated the items to the charity, according to a police report. When givers leave firearms at Goodwill donation centers, the organization always re-donates them to the police department, he said. The worker also turned over a military fragmentation jacket, which employees thought was inappropriate for the resale shop, according to the report.

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If you've been here before you'll no doubt remember reading these other adventures in oddity:

Very Punny

I Guess a Pry Bar, Bolt Cutters and Pliers Are Part of This Guy's Drum Kit

The Final Frontier

What is This World Coming To?

I'm Pretty Sure They're Not One Size Fits All

Chickened Out

You Just Can't Make Up This Stuff

A Bark Worse Than a Bite

No Shrinking Violet

The Return of Sir Spam-a-lot

So, I was perusing the extra features in my blog yesterday and noticed on the dashboard that Blogger had added an anti-spam feature in the comments section (apart from the moderation and verification functions.) "WooHoo, Blogspot!" I thought, "now I can totally get rid of that annoying squiggly letter verification thing-y on my comment form!" Score one for the little guys, the real-life people who are suffering under the aggressive use of technology, the real-life folks who are forced to spend precious moments out of their busy lives trying to wade through those funky letters, all in an effort to have their voices....er....keyboards heard. With great satisfaction, I promptly disabled the word verification and went about my day, confident that Blogger's spam-i-cide would take care of the evil bots trolling around wreaking havoc in Blogland. It was my own small way of making life one or two clicks easier for all of humanity. (Okay, maybe not all of humanity, but at least for the tens of people who actually read my blog.)

Now, less than 24 hours later, not one, but two "anonymous" comments have appeared on recent posts..... anonymous comments of questionable authenticity. Anonymous comments encouraging me to buy weird medicine at some less-than-legitimate sources.



Okay, world, if we can put a man on the moon, (heck, if Lady Gaga can figure out a way to make a dress out of raw meat) surely someone can figure out an easier, less intrusive way to deal with insidious Spam-bot messages!! Sadly, for now, we have to do battle the old-fashioned way and I have been forced to initiate the comment verification process, again. I know how inconvenient it is, but Sir Spam-a-lot and Son of Sir Spam-a-lot have left me no other choice. My apologies to all the real people, again.

Perseverance. . .

. . . would really be a lot easier if it didn't require so much effort.

Grab a Tissue. . .

. . . you're probably gonna need it.

Cat Scratch Fever

Celebrate 365 is hot off the presses and on its way to a mailbox near you! There's so much holiday inspiration in each issue of this wonderful magazine, and I'm honored to have a couple of my little papier mache guys included in the October edition. Celebrate365 is the perfect resource for the year-round ornament collector.

Click the logo below to find out how you can get your copy today.

"Snails see the benefits, the beauty in every inch" ~The Format

[I am re-posting "Winking Sunflowers" (originally written in 2007) in honor of my "middlest" girl who is running her first race in over 3 years. This 5K, for her, is about so much more than the race. It's not about winning or being first, or even in being last. It's about finding value and joy in who we are. It's about survival, and perseverance in the face of difficulty, and it's about finding beauty in living. ~cn]

~~~~~

"Winking Sunflowers"

I've been thinking about our sad little garden again. It's just so brown, and it's time to get the plots ready for next year. The weeks of 100 degree temps were just too much. But the sunflower "patch" we had was very interesting and the plants did most of their blooming before the worst of the hot spell came.

I had tons of dried seeds from last year's beautiful bounty, so this past spring we just scattered hundreds of those leftovers in a clear part of our pasture. I think every seed germinated and sprouted, and I was so excited! My thumb is only green when I'm using green paint, so this was just a wondrous surprise.

Well, the plants just never quite looked "normal" but grew tall nonetheless. Some of the plants began to show signs of blooming, however, the buds were located in the oddest places on the plant. Finally some flowers began to emerge, but these were no ordinary blooms. Some were half-flowers, some had only a few petals, some had oval shapes with tons of petals, some looked as if they were giant eyes winking, and many were what my daughter deemed "conjoined twin" blooms.

Somehow these unique flowers didn't seem to know that they were odd or misshapen. They bloomed with such abandon and reached heavenward just as proudly as if they'd been prize-winning roses. Funny how the Lord used those little oddball flowers to teach one of my girls a wonderful lesson. She suffered a really serious injury to her foot last fall, and was on crutches almost 6 months. It sidelined her from her passion of running cross country until recently when she started training again. Needless to say, it has been, and continues to be a painfully slow process, and discouragement has settled in at times. We were reminded of the joy in reaching heavenward, in spite of circumstances, or even because of them. The Lord isn't really concerned with what the offering "looks" like, but in the fact that we're giving Him what we have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fast-forward to today:

I read this on my daughter's blog this morning:

“I was run-nin!” -Forrest Gump

This morning will be something of a milestone for me. For the first time in three years, I’m am attempting to run a 5k.

I remember the last race of my high school running career. I ran the two mile at an embarrassing crawl. My left foot which was “toast” (from what my lovely less-than-poetic doctor diagnosed) lit up with pain. Each step was like a sledgehammer smashing down on my broken nerves in the toes, ankle and up through my entire body. What’s worse, the sledgehammer smashed down harder and faster upon my pride and my resilience.

I had been a runner. I had been a good runner, too.

Today, I just want to finish a race without pain. Today, Time and I have decided to coexist and not bother one another. Today, I’m going to run, not for my coaches, not for my school; today I’m running 3.1 miles for my Best Friend. And for me.

I’m learning that Time, though I hate it, can sometimes be a good thing. Time is very often healing.

"H" is for Holiday!

Holiday with Matthew Mead is a new publication celebrating the Christmas holiday season. It's due out right before Halloween and I can't wait to get my copy in the mail!
Swing over to Matthew's blog to check it out.

In Case You Were Wondering

When FDR said,"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," I'm pretty sure he never saw the gi-normous spider I found in my basement the other day. Yikes.

Happy Monday, anyway.

By the way. . .

Cooper doesn't like spiders either, or cameras.

Snazz Attack

Oh.

My.

Goodness!!!

Okay, now I've seen everything. First blankets had sleeves, aka The Snuggie. Now blankets have pockets, snazzy sheep designs, and best of all, a handy-dandy oval breathing hole. An oval breathing hole!

My favorite part of the ad is that the people in the waiting room (as if waiting rooms weren't awkward enough) seem oblivious to the woman attaching the "comfortable and cool" Snazzy Napper to her face. HAHA, it's like privacy in a bag! Yeah, right. Privacy. I've seen a lot of odd things, but if a woman whipped out a giant mask with an oval breathing opening and attached it to her face in the middle of my doctor's waiting room, I'm pretty sure I would sneak at least one glance her way, no matter how snazzy, comfortable, or cool she looked.

Anyway, what will people think of next...blankets that come with built-in roller skates and that perform delicate neuro-surgery?? Sheeze. (In a semi-related side note: all these years I had no idea our dog Cooper was doing his own "market research" and basically developed his very own doggie version of the Snazzy Napper! Too bad we never thought to market the thing. Oh well. If you're curious, read about his fleece fetish here.)

[This video is brought to you thanks to my college-girl, who came across it, no doubt, while earnestly studying and probably doing very important research. Research. . . yes. . . important, school-related, non-Facebook research. I think I know what she (and Cooper) are getting for Christmas.]

Bring on the Spooky and the Jingle-y

SpookyTimeJingles updated today:
a one-stop-shop for all things spooky and jingle-y.

:)

Remembering. . .

Sometimes it seems like an eternity ago.
Sometimes it seems like only yesterday.
May we never forget.

~~~~

"Terrorist attacks can shake the foundations
of our biggest buildings,
but they cannot touch the foundation of America.
These acts can shatter steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve."
--President George W. Bush, September 11, 2001

"We will not waver, we will not tire, we will not falter, and we will not fail.
Peace and freedom will prevail."
--President George W. Bush, 2001

Blanket Statement

As promised in this post, here are pics [finally!!] of Cooper in his Christmas Snuggie. He hasn't needed it much this summer, but whenever the temp dips below 65 degrees, Cooper will once again don his beloved blue Snuggie. And he'll wear it proudly.

Cooper has a history with fleece that dates back to the days when blankets were just blankets--the days when blankets didn't have sleeves, or annoying infomercials.

It all began the year that Santa brought Cooper to our family for Christmas -- even though Mrs. Claus really didn't think we needed a puppy....because Mrs. Claus already had her hands full taking care of 4 kids, washing mountains of laundry, and suffering under the dictatorial reign of an 18 pound stray cat named Friendly. However, Santa had already made up his mind, and Cooper came to live with the Nash-clan anyway.

Cooper was young, and needy, and so tiny. He shivered constantly and never seemed to get used to the cold temperatures inside our drafty old house; so Santa...er, I mean....my husband carried our new ward around for weeks, kangaroo-style, in his sweatshirt pocket. My youngest kid also thought it was cute to dress our new dog in her old clothes and she often lugged him around the house like a baby brother. (Sometimes Cooper even suffered the indignity of riding in a pink doll carriage, right along side Cheerleader Barbie and countless Beanie Babies.) Cooper became accustomed to constant human contact and to being doted on and swaddled like a newborn. Thus began our dog's fetish for fleece.

Since those early days, Cooper has always had at least one favorite blanket which he sleeps underneath, winter and summer. His first, and by far, his favorite blanket was a cast-off pink Barbie blanket/sleeping bag. [It's the same Barbie sleeping bag that appeared in this story.] Cooper loved that blanket. Like Peanuts' Linus and his infamous blue blanket, wherever Coop went, so did Barbie blankie. He dragged it all over the house, and I could often hear the tink, tink, tink of the metal zipper as Coop dragged the tattered sleeping bag along our wood floor and up and down our wood stairs. Cooper also enjoyed chewing on the blanket and regularly used it as a pacifier to soothe himself to sleep. He managed to chew hundreds of somehow perfectly round holes all over the thing and I had to patch it up from time to time.

Eventually Barbie blanket was beyond repair and I was forced to throw it out. After some serious withdrawal issues, Cooper eventually attached himself to other fleece items around the house. And he has done so with a vengeance. Perhaps as payback for my Spring cleaning and for callously (ha!) throwing out his favorite security blanket, Cooper still chews perfectly round holes in other things. Some of our bedsheets, a few old sweatshirts, and almost every blanket in the house now looks like large fuzzy Swiss cheese. It's a bit unsettling, and also it looks like we have a terrible infestation of moths.

So that's why last Christmas, Mrs. Claus thought a dog-sized Snuggie seemed like a good idea. Cooper could be warm, secure, and maybe he would lay off snacking on our blankets. And the best part, now Mrs. Claus can invest in some new (Cooper-free) bed linens.

The Mean Reds*

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul Varjak: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?
Holly Golightly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?
Paul Varjak: Sure.
Holly Golightly: Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!

*Leave it to YouTube to disable the video clip I wanted to post. So, just click the pic of Audrey and it'll take you right there. For now, I'm off to Tiffany's. Or in my case, Etsy. ;)