Sunday, December 12, 2010

The first snowfall of the year

The first snowfall of the year hit with a vengeance this weekend.  I started out as a nice soft snowfall, with giant flakes gently falling to the ground.  But then the winds hit.  They howled in at 40 MPH, causing white-out conditions and a noisy racket most of last night.  Good thing I stayed at home in front of my fireplace all weekend!

I'm not a big fan of snow.  I hate to be cold, I don't like driving in it, or clearing it off of my car.

But it sure is pretty.  And Bumblebee loves to play in it:
*photo of Bumblebee dressed up in snow gear outside:

She and the neighbor girl played outside for a long time today - I couldn't believe it since it was so cold outside!  Only about 10 degrees or so:
*photo of Bumblebee and her friend playing:

I took pity on them and made them some hot chocolate:
*photo of the girls drinking hot cocoa:

Bumblebee seems to like it!
*photo closeup of Bumblebee drinking her hot cocoa:

Ok, I have to admit, it's nice to have snow on the ground.  It makes everything pretty and it looks like Christmas outside.  But I won't feel this way when we get a storm in March!

Tuesday, December 7, 2010


I almost got a speeding ticket yesterday.  Turns out that I had a really good excuse for speeding.  One that the state trooper would have to accept, so that a warning would be issued instead.

See, I was driving down the interstate at my usual rate of speed.  Traffic was three lanes across at this point, and a minivan came from behind me, weaving in and out of traffic to get a couple of spots ahead.  I didn’t notice who was driving as the minivan passed me, but when it pulled in front of me, after passing several cars, it slowed down. I had to hit my brakes and adjust my cruise control.  Grr. I was annoyed.  A swear word was likely uttered under my breath.

Then I saw the license plate. It said 1HOTMOM.

Seriously?  You’re driving a minivan and you want your plates to say 1HOTMOM? 

That’s so dumb.

Personally, 1BADDRIVERMOM would have been more apt, but I don’t think that would fit on the license plate.  I just HAD to see what 1HOTMOM looked like.  I mean, was she one hot mom?

Naturally, I tried to pass her so I could see what she looked like. As I got in the left lane, she decided she didn’t want me to finish ahead of her in the imaginary interstate race we were competing in. So she sped up.

I sped up too.

Then she did.

And I did, and so forth.  We were both very speedy. Which, incidentally, is my favorite word to say. I know that’s a random thought.  But say it out loud. Now.

No, really, I mean it. Go ahead!

"Speedy.  Speedy.  Speeeeee-deeeeee." It sort of rolls off the tongue, and is genuinely fun to speak, right?

Anyway. Back to the interstate. I would not be denied my look at 1HOTMOM.  I had to know what she looked like.  So I finally caught up with her.  And you know what?

She was cute, sort of. In a rather plain way.  Maybe it was her morning to drive the carpool and she’d been up since six and didn’t have time to get all fancied up, the way I imagined 1HOTMOM to look. I was picturing botox, fake boobs and a velour track suit.  But nope.  1HOTMOM was just kind of blah.  More like 1WARMMOM. Lukewarm, even.

Why then?  What would possess someone to put that on their license plate? Think of the pressure. If you're not always all glammed up, that plate is going to give you nothing but trouble.

I can’t have been the only person to pass her in order to get a glimpse of 1HOTMOM.  In my case, I got my gawking done, checked my speedometer, and saw that I was pushing 90.  Yowza.  I slowed back down, and just as I had the speed under control, I crested a hill where a state trooper was waiting to pounce.  Yikes.

But really, it would have made a good excuse, right?  Anyone would've gone over the speed limit to try and see what 1HOTMOM looked like.  Am I right?

Monday, November 29, 2010

A craptastic day

I'm warning you now. This is a disgusting post, and the title gives the content away. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Yesterday was, quite literally, a shitty day.

It was Sunday, I was planning to sleep in a bit, get ready for church and then the family was heading over to my mother-in-law's for dinner. I was hoping for a nice end to a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday weekend.

But it was not to be.

I woke at 6:45 a.m. to a weird scratchy sound. I thought maybe the cat was stuck in a room with the door shut and was batting her paws on the door, her signal to be let out. When I got up to investigate, a horrible smell hit me like a ton of bricks.

Now I don't have an easy gag reflex. (That's what he said? Oh... never mind.) What I mean is, that I normally can stomach gross things. Puke, crap, dirty laundry, sour milk, old garbage.Usually , I can deal. I don't like to smell it, mind you, but it doesn't knock me flat like yesterday's smell did.

I groaned and looked around for the inevitable pile that I knew Reggie had to have left somewhere. I found one by the front door. "Aw, what a good boy." I thought, "He was trying to make it outside!"

I cleaned it up, let the furball outside, yelled at him to get out of the neighbors' yard, and called him in. As I was getting ready to go back to bed, I noticed that the smell wasn't quite gone yet. I followed my nose and found the most DEEESSSSGUSTING sight. On the stairs.

The carpeted stairs. An explosion took place on those stairs. It was all down the stairs and on the wall.  It was everywhere!  Seriously, I can't figure out how Reggie managed to defecate in such an extraordinary manner. I want to hurl just thinking about it. It was early morning, everyone in the house was still asleep, so I found some rubber gloves, put on one of those mask things that make you smell your own breath for as long as you wear them, and got to work cleaning it up.

Did I mention that we hosted Thanksgiving dinner for 17 people? Uh... there were recognizable bits of said dinner on my stairs. I know that's gross, y'all, but I'm painting a picture here.

Anyway. I spent close to an hour cleaning up the mess. Afterward I decided to shower and get ready for church. I put Reggie in his kennel while I was getting ready. I got out of the bathroom and was instantly hit again with THE SMELL.

Poor pup had gone in his kennel and was bathing in his filth. It looked like a mud puddle. Too much description? Sorry.

So I had to give him a bath and clean out the kennel, and then bleach the bathtub and the tile and the floor that Reggie walked on the way to the bathtub. But as I was doing that, I heard The Boy shout at the dog. He'd started to go AGAIN in the kitchen and ran away from The Boy through the dining room and living room, leaving a trail that looked like Hershey's syrup the whole entire way.

God in heaven, how did he have that much shit inside of him?

I almost pulled my hair out. By this time, the whole family was up, thanks to my screeching like a complete lunatic, and The Husband got the dog outside and put him on a chain so he wouldn't go anywhere.

I set to clean up the trail of nastiness, and all of a sudden, The Husband calls to me from the basement. "Hon, you'd better come see this..."

Turns out that the Big Guy Upstairs didn't think we had enough crap on our plate to deal with, so he decided to have the effing septic tank back up into the basement too. All over Hollywood's floor, coating her clothes (she of course hadn't cleaned her room), her area rug, and into The Husband's workshop.

Not kidding. Now there was dog shit upstairs and shit water downstairs.

Needless to say, we didn't make it to mass yesterday, and we had to call my mother-in-law to tell her we'd be very late for dinner.

But, after scrubbing and cleaning, and bleaching, and burning every scented candle I could find, I think it's safe to take a deep breath in our house again.

And Reggie? Well, he's much better today. In fact, he's back in his favorite spot on the couch next to me, hogging the pillows, as I write this:
*photo of Reggie on the sofa:

It's a good thing we love our furball so darn much.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010


I’m pretty sure that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  I’ve always tried to do my best to thank God for my blessings.  I’m not a huge fan of turkey, but oh my goodness, I love me some stuffing. Mmmm, mmmm... And pie, and potatoes… food, food, food. Throw some family in there and football in the background?  You’ve got the perfect holiday right there.

Thanksgiving isn’t as stressful as Christmas.  It’s more laid back, and there’s none of that blasted gift wrapping to do.  Unlike the sugar high that the kids get from Easter candy, Thanksgiving food contains tryptophan, which makes them sleepy. See? 

Thanksgiving is just an all around win

I’m hosting dinner at my house this year for my side of the family.  My mom is spending the night tomorrow night and we’ll drink some wine as we prep the food. I’m looking forward to it.

I'll be busy the next few days, and won't have time to post here, but I am most definitely thankful for all that I have in my life.  This year, I'd like to pay special attention to the immediate family I've been blessed with. They are my world.

So, without further ado, this is what I'm thankful for this year:

* * *

I’m thankful that I was given this man to share my life with:
*photo of The Husband:

Even though I've spent nearly half my life with him, I've been having those ooey-gooey, butterflies in my stomach feelings for him lately that remind me of when we first met and he charmed me with that smile.  That smile! Lord have mercy. It has clearly been the purpose of my life to have babies with the owner of that smile.

Speaking of babies, I am so very grateful for the times in my life that have been spent snuggling babies. Look at me in the picture below – I’m chubby and I look absolutely exhausted. But if you look closer, you can see that I’m glowing with that bleary happiness only a sleep-deprived parent of an infant can pull off. And look at Tiny Bumblebee, all crashed out, safe and secure, on my chest. God help me, I’d have ten more babies if I could.
*photo of me holding Bumblebee as an infant.
Picture 106

I don’t just love the baby stages, though. I’ve enjoyed all of it.  My kids' teenage years have been pretty great so far too:
*photo of Hollywood:

Even though one of them is threatening to be taller than me at any second:
*photo of The Boy and me:

Sigh. Sometimes I can’t explain how happy these four people make me. I’ve said it before, but I mean it.  I am blessed.

I hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving this year.  Gobble, gobble!

Tuesday, November 16, 2010


*photo of Hollywood at age three:
Little Brie

She's brave.
She is beautiful,
Creative, insightful,

Her smile lights up the universe.
Her voice moves people to tears.

She's not afraid to believe, to hope, and to dream.

She's wise beyond her years, but not afraid to be silly and youthful.

She's the six pound, eleven ounce creature who first made me a mama.

And I can't believe that she's seventeen.

Happy Birthday, Hollywood.  I love you.
photo of Hollywood now:
School play

*the above photo is from her school play that she performed in this weekend.

Friday, November 12, 2010


I love this man.
*photo of The Husband laughing.  He has a mustache.

Have you heard of Movember? I think it was started in Australia.  It's when men grow mustaches for the month of November to raise awareness for prostate cancer and general men's health issues.  The furry lip becomes symbolic, like a pink ribbon would for breast cancer.

I'm not normally a fan of the 'stache. But this is a great program, and did you see that picture?  How cute is that husband of mine?

Check out this video if you're interested in learning more about Movember.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Table of Plenty

I joined a small group at my church several weeks ago, and last night it was my turn to host our weekly meeting.  Our meetings are very informal and I wasn't sure whether we'd sit in the living room or the dining room for the evening.  The food and beverages made that decision for us, and we gathered around the table for our small group session.

We did what we normally do in our small group, which is to talk about our faith, share personal stories, and enjoy the company of each other.  It was a beautiful fall evening, and maybe it was the beer, but I felt that warm, glowy sensation as we sat around the table and chatted.

I started to think about my dining room, and about our table in particular.

*photo of my table, decorated with a fall tablecloth and centerpiece:

I love my table.  It's an old table of my in-laws' that was rescued from a shed on The Husband's grandma's farm. I spent a long time refinishing it, and even though it's not perfect, it works for us.  I like to put pretty centerpieces on it:
*photo of the fall centerpiece:

I like to dress it up for Christmas:
*photo of the table decked out with a Christmas tablecloth and decorations:
holiday table

But sometimes it's just a plain old mess.  Stacks of papers clutter the clean lines of the table; cereal bowls full of milk and shriveled cheerios often replace my decorations. Usually you'll find a dog leash or a gym shoe sitting on it too.

I've often heard about the table being the cornerstone of family life, and how important dinnertime is with the family. We, like many other families these days, are running in a thousand different directions.  One kid will have basketball practice and Confirmation class, while the other will have to work or go to play practice.  We try our best to sit down together for dinner as often as we can.  For a little while, at least, time slows down and we can enjoy each others' company.

I have fond memories of hilarious conversations that ended up with snorts of laughter that caused milk to come out of someone's nose.  We play 'Would You Rather' and come up with obnoxious scenarios.  One of them was something along the lines of "Would you rather eat pea soup off of an old man's beard or drink warm mayonnaise?" Something like that.  Gross.  Stories get told and retold at that table, and The Husband tells his eye-roll worthy jokes there. The TV is off, cell phones aren't allowed, and the dog sits at our feet, scavenging for dropped crumbs. We enjoy each other at our table.

It's been there for birthday celebrations:
*photo of Bumblebee with her friends on her 5th birthday:
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*photo of The Boy with a birthday cake:
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*photo of Hollwyood on her last birthday:
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Even when the birthday celebrants aren't so enthusiastic about getting another year older:
*photo of The Husband flipping off the camera with a birthday cake in front of him:

The table's been a place to do homework.  Sometimes Bumblebee even gets help from her big brother:
*photo of The Boy and Bumblebee doing homework together:
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It's a place to eat a hearty breakfast before the first day of school:

Breakfast on the first day of school

It's been a place to carve pumpkins and be goofy:
*photo of Bumblebee with a lampshade on her head:
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Some of my favorite memories in my dining room are of our large family gatherings, with dozens of people crammed around the table:
*photo of everyone crowded around for Nephew E's birthday cake:

*another photo of the gathering:

It's been a place for serious conversations.  We've made life changing plans at our table, and talked about dreams and wishes there. We've broken bad news to one another around the table, and we've argued bitterly while sitting there.

It truly is the centerpiece of our home.  If our table could hear what went on around it, I wonder if it would appreciate the crazy family that often gathers there.  Especially this time of year, with the holidays approaching, I'm thankful for our table and what it means to this family.

Monday, November 8, 2010

To my sixteen-year-old self:

Photo of me in HS:
teenaged me
To my sixteen year old self:

(I’ve seen this across the interwebs lately, and I love the theme, and am totally stealing the topic.)

  1. You are not fat. You really, really aren’t. I know you won’t believe me, but you’re going to have to trust me on this one. You are cute and you look nice in leggings.  When you are in your late thirties, leggings will make a comeback and you will be too old to partake in the madness.  So wear them now. You totally rock the look.  I’m serious.
  2. If you’d stop perming and trashing your hair with sun-in, it would grow out nicely, and not look so scraggly. Oh, and by the way… brown looks much, much better on you than blonde. Stick with what God gave you on this one. Trust me.
  3. Your smile may not be perfect, but it’s not as bad as you think it is.  In fact, one day you will meet a man who thinks that the gap formed by your sideways tooth is charming.  So smile more, and don’t stress out over the fact that you don’t have perfect, chicklet teeth.
  4. Even though you suck at all things athletic, you should exercise more.  It will make you feel better.  Those headaches you get?  They’ll almost completely go away if you exercise regularly.
  5. You know that best friend of yours?  The one who went to the Bon Jovi concert with you and lets you watch MTV at her house?  Give her a hug. Because she’ll be there for you twenty years from now. (queue Bon Jovi earworm "I'll Be There For You") And even though some things about your relationship will be complicated, she will still be your best friend. I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you details about the future, but I can tell you this: she’s an amazing grown-up.
  6. Your mother is the smartest person you’ll ever know.  At 16, 37, and probably at 90.  Pay special attention to what she says, because she’ll be more reserved with her advice as you become an adult.  At 16, she offers it freely.  So listen to her, and take it. Also, tell her you love her. Right now.
  7. Even though your friends have boyfriends while you only have a track record of one really bad experience, don’t lose faith.  You are not a hideous troll, and boys don’t think you’re invisible, even though that’s what you might feel right now.  When you go to college, you will be asked out on more dates than you have time for, and this will surprise the hell out of you.  There’s some confidence inside of you somewhere. Find it and let it shine.
  8. Those annoying little brothers of yours? Yeah. Give them a hug.  They’ve got a few tough years ahead of them, and will need you. Your brothers are the best gift your parents ever gave you.  You'll be glad for that gift over and over again in your life.
  9. You aren’t the smartest, the most beautiful, or the funniest. But you are smart, beautiful, and funny.  And although you doubt yourself right now, you won’t when you’re 37.  You’ll appreciate the gifts you’ve been given. You might bemoan the extra padding your love for food has bestowed upon you, but you’ll feel pretty good about yourself overall.  The sooner you can see this, the happier you will be.
  10. You will make mistakes in life.  Many of them. Some of them will seem huge.  In the end, because you learned from them, and they shaped your life, those mistakes will turn into the best things that ever happened to you.  You will continue to make more of them until you die.
  11. It is important to have a good job, so you should definitely work hard in high school and college. Your career should be fulfilling, and you should enjoy doing whatever you do. But your job will not define you.  What you do outside of the 8-5 window will be your world.
  12. You are strong in your faith right now. Hang on to that conviction, your hope, and those beliefs. 
  13. Seriously, you’re not fat.Go buy a bikini.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween, from a scary vampire, a junior high nerd, a teenager, and the dog!
*photo of the kids in their costumes (Hollywood was herself):

Be on the lookout for tiny little girl vampires - they're scary!
*photo of Bumblebee looking scary:

Watch out - she'll sneak up on you and be deadly:
*photo of vampire Bumblebee biting the neck of The Boy Nerd:

I spent yesterday carving pumpkins.  That always takes about a thousand times longer than I think it will, but it's a good way to expend some creative energy.  Plus, the dog was in heaven since he LOVES pumpkin.  Every time a chunk of pumpkin would fall to the ground, he'd scramble over and eat it.  He had so much of it that I made The Husband do a google search on whether pumpkin was harmful to dogs.  Turns out, it's actually good for them!

Behold, the alien pumpkin:

The scary face (aka Jack from Nightmare Before Christmas):

and last, but not least - because it was the hardest to do - the Packer's football helmet pumpkin:

*photo of all three together:

Hope you have a Spooktacular Halloween!!

Thursday, October 28, 2010

The post where I get all deep and thoughtful, à la Dr. Phil

I’ve been trying to write this post for a week.  I keep starting it, working through my thoughts and then scrapping it.  The thoughts are nagging at me, though, and I want to get them on paper so they can leave me alone! They’re swirling around, faster and faster in my head. Kind of like when you stir liquid in a bowl and get going so fast that it sloshes on the counter.  That always happens to me when I make instant pudding.  (Speaking of which, don’t try the pumpkin spice instant pudding.  DISgusting.)

Or my thoughts are like when I’m in spin class, spinning the bike pedals so quickly that I can’t stop or my leg would pop off and fall to the ground.  Popped off legs remind me of Barbie, and how Reggie likes to chew them up, leaving the dismembered body parts in the middle of the hallway floor. Sometimes I’ll get up in the middle of the night and step on something.  When I stoop to pick it up, and my bleary mind registers that it’s a mutilated Barbie leg, I drop the mangled limb in disgust and curse the dog.

Hold on.  Pudding and Barbie legs are not what I want to write about today. I really do have a serious subject, and some thoughts that have been weighing heavily on my mind. I’m going to try to plow ahead. Bear with me.

I have a very dear friend who is getting a divorce.  She and her husband haven’t been happy in a long time, it’s been a difficult marriage for her.  I’m sad for my friend, because I know she’s in for a rough ride, but I have faith that because she’s strong and capable, she will figure things out in her own way.

I’m surprised at my reaction to her news.  My primary reaction has been concern for my friend.  I hope she knows that she has my unwavering support through this tough time.  But that’s not the reaction that surprised me.  In the back of my mind, a tiny seed of thought began wiggling up through the soil of my mind, making me feel scared and vulnerable.  If divorce can happen to my friend, it can happen to anyone.  Which means it could happen to me.  

Intellectually, I know that divorce happens all the time.  One in every two marriages ends in divorce, or something like that, right?  The Husband and I are both children of divorced parents.  I have other friends who have gone through a divorce.  I know that it’s common, and I’ve always known that.

This particular friend of mine and I have known each other for 25 years.  We go back to a time of awkwardness, braces and fluorescent, oversized clothing.  We had crushes on the same boys, navigated the angst-filled halls of our high school together, and went off to the same college. She got married a couple of months before me.  I know that her marriage has been challenging – we’ve talked about it before.  I remember commiserating with her during times when my own marriage was rocky.  Within the last few years, her marriage deteriorated to the point where she felt that she had to make the choice to end it.  Like I said, my first reaction was sadness for her and I wanted to make sure that she knows she has my support.  But my second reaction, an internal, private reflex, was to personalize her tragedy and feel very vulnerable.

Here’s where I get honest and hope that I’m not sharing too much information.  The Husband and I have had some rough times.  It once got bad enough for me to seriously consider separation. So I understand that ‘things are beyond repair’ feeling.  In our case, we spent a weekend apart to think things over.  That weekend didn’t make the issues we were facing disappear, but while I was away, I knew that I couldn’t follow through with a real separation.  As angry and confused as I was with The Husband over our troubles, I realized that I just don’t want to be without him.

I won’t go into the nature of issues that we faced, but I will say that for a long time I felt that The Husband needed to change.  For many years, I nagged at him, shot him disapproving looks, and in the really bad times, argued bitterly with him.  After the realization that I didn’t want to be without him, I began to think long and hard about what I could do to be happy in my marriage.  I knew without a doubt that I didn’t want to be apart from The Husband.  But I needed to figure out how to be happy with him.

I realized that expecting him to morph into an unattainable version of my prince charming was unfair, and nagging and fighting about it was fruitless.  I couldn’t  force him to change.  But I could change myself. I decided that I should try to find happiness by becoming the person I wanted to be.  I began taking more time for myself, going out with girlfriends, exercising more, and spending time doing things I enjoy.  It seems counterintuitive that spending more time apart would bring us closer together, but for me, that’s exactly what it did.

As I began to feel happy and fulfilled in my life, I naturally began to dwell upon The Husband’s faults less and appreciate his strengths more.

DUH, right?  That’s common sense.  But it took me years to realize that the key to happiness is in ME, and not in him changing into someone I think he should be.  Some of the issues that seemed so huge and insurmountable before have naturally begun to erode.  He became more helpful around the house, he became more emotionally available (which is chick speak for ‘he talks to me about his feelings more’), and we began to treat each other as a priority again.  That, right there, is what I was after all along. To feel that our marriage is important and a priority.

It has made all the difference in the world to me.

So back to my friend and her divorce.  I have obsessed over this in my mind.  (It's amazing that I get anything  accomplished with my mind constantly working on overdrive like it does.) What can I do to make sure that The Husband and I don’t end up on the other side of the divorce statistic?  Not because I believe my friend is wrong or that divorce isn’t right for her, but because I don’t want to lose what I have built with The Husband.  We’ve worked so hard to get where we are, and I value his partnership and I love so many things about him.

Also, he's really cute.

Watching my friend’s marriage end has made me sad for her, and I wish her nothing but the very best.  I know she will find happiness and things will be ok, and that this is the path she is meant to take right now.  But it’s not the road I want, despite any struggles I may face with The Husband. My friend’s divorce has awakened some need inside of me to continue this quest to find satisfaction within myself, and by extension, to my marriage.  But it has also stirred up anxiety too.  Are we ok? What if we don’t make it? Am I doing everything I can to make sure he realizes how important he is to me? Probably not. I know I can do better at this.

I guess that’s a place to start, and maybe having something to work on will ease my mind.  So, tell me… Have you ever been affected by a friend’s divorce like this?  I can’t be the only neurotic one out there, can I?

Friday, October 22, 2010

The Cafe

*photo of Hollywood behind the counter at work:
Reising Sun
Hollywood has her first part time job at an adorable little small town cafe.  She makes food, takes orders, serves ice cream, lattes, desserts, you name it.  

The cafe is the cutest place ever.  Outside there are little metal bistro tables with flowers on them:
*photo of Bumblebee seated at one of those tables:
Reising Sun outside
Inside, the decor is amazing. Not only did the cafe's owner paint all of the decorations herself, but she did it in purple and orange. Purple and orange!  My favorites!! I love it:
*photo of the interior of the cafe:
Reising Sun interior

The Husband thinks I take too many pictures (who me?) so he tries to foil my plans by putting on a goofy face in them.  In this case, he seems to be thinking really hard.  "Should I order the patty melt or the reuben?"

The best thing about the decor at the cafe is the bathroom.  There are four paintings on the wall depicting each of the seasons. Check it out:
*photos of the bathroom
Reising Sun Restroom

Reising Sun bathroom

Reising Sun Bathroom

I think Hollywood's boss did a great job of decorating the place.  It's small and comfortable and did I mention they have coffee and a dozen flavors of ice cream and homemade desserts? Well, technically they're cafemade desserts.  But they're good. Trust me.

Hollywood gets to work with her friends - here she is with her good friend Mason:
Brie Mason Cafe

Watching her work brings back memories of when I was her age and worked at the Maid-Rite in my hometown.  There were so many fun people to work with there. Even though it was smelly and greasy and we had to deal with cranky customers, it didn't really feel like work as long as our friends were working too.

I'm sure she'll have similar memories when she's out of school.  I realize the theme of 'she's growing up so fast' keeps popping up here on my blog, but DUDE. I'm not kidding!  She IS growing up so fast!

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Little Avril Lavigne

I was on the way home from work yesterday and had my iPod doing a random play of the gazillions of songs I have on it. The song I’m With You by Avril Lagivne came on.  And oh.  Oh.  The memories.

Hollywood was a huge Avril Lavigne fan when she was about 10.  She dressed like her and kind of looked like a miniature version of her. With less eyeliner:
*photo of younger Hollywood next to Avril Lavigne:
Hollywood Avril

She used to dress up and rock out with her child’s guitar. Like this:
*photo of 10 year old Hollywood dressed like a rock star:
Picture 297

The song I’m with You has the word ‘damn’ in it.  I remember Hollywood singing the song in her bedroom and skipping that word because it was a swear word.  So cute.

Sigh…  Hollywood, you're growing up so quickly. Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated?

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Football season can't be over already!

*photo of The Boy is his football uniform:
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Tonight was The Boy's last football game of the season.  I can't believe it!  I know he'll miss it - he mentioned that he won't ever have to practice on the 'practice field' again because in high school football, they get to use the real football field.

I'm not even sure if he'll go out for football next year, but if he does, I'm sure he'll enjoy goofing around with his buddies like he did this year.
*photo of The Boy goofing around with two of his friends:
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And he'll miss the team huddles and the camaraderie:
*photo of a team huddle
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And the action:
*photo of a football play:
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Even the action on the sidelines is fun:
*photo of the guys on the sidelines:
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But going after a big guy and getting a tackle is even better:
*photo of a football play:

Time for everyone to shake hands:
*photo of teams shaking hands after a game:
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Good game.  Good game.  Good game.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Sick day.

Bumblebee started claiming that she didn't feel well last night. We were at a Mexican restaurant having dinner when it started. At the time, she wasn't fabricating an illness. She had a bad case of indigestion. Or constipation. Or the opposite of constipation. Who knows, that kid has bathroom issues. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that she ate little more than a plate of refried beans for dinner.

But anyway. She wanted to snuggle with me last night and she woke up this morning saying that she didn't feel well. Even though she had stomach issues last night, her illness transformed into a cough and sore throat by this morning.

Look at this face. She wouldn't ever tell a lie. Right?
*photo of Bumblebee, closeup of her bright blue eyes:

Of course not. She's an angel. And since she's got it in good with all of the other heavenly beings, she called in a miracle today. I'm not kidding - as soon as the school bus drove past our house and she deemed that it was too late for her to make it to school, she was cured.

*photo of Bumblebee:

Completely, 100%, dancing around the living room in her dress-up clothes cured.

I'm not one to encourage sick days. But I needed an alone day with her as much as she wanted one with me. Maybe even more.

Bumblebee, go get Finding Nemo. I'll make some popcorn.