Eleven on the Eleventh of the Eleventh

Today is 11.11.11.

I can't help but flashback to 8.8.88. I was in junior high, and my best friend Christina and I decided to have an eight party. We bought each other eight gifts, had eight things to eat, and I'm not sure what else. We thought we were pretty awesome though. As did the zero boys who were in our life at that time. Correlation?

Nah. We were awesome. And our hair was big and curly. (Hi, Christina!)

I thought I'd spew some random thoughts for your reading pleasure this morning.

You're welcome.

1. I'm up early this morning, having just gotten my boys off on a church youth trip to Independence, Missouri. It's funny to have two old enough to go. Kind of blows my mind how fast the years are flying. I feel like the preschool age lasted like 20 years. Now that they're fun and interesting? Time is flying by at warp speed. Makes me sad.

2. The Remodel is going well. Last night, they FINALLY finished painting the ceiling in the living room, which meant that the Bubble Boy room was dismantled. The two couches in my kitchen have been returned to their rightful place, and it makes everything feel so big. Progress, people.

3. A few days ago, the Husband's company had a dinner at a glass blowing factory where we learned how to manipulate glass that was 2,03950,000 degrees. (Yes, I realize that is not a real number. But I exaggerate to show you just how stinkin' hot it was). We had a long safety seminar where they told us over and over NOT to grab the metal pole with our left hand, as it would take the skin off our hand with the heat. Guess who reached for her pole very first thing? Yeah. Me. Thankfully, the Husband was right there and screamed before I could actually touch it. That could have been bad. And embarrassing.

4. My backyard is covered in leaves and I have ZERO desire to rake them. Seeing as how my two work horses have just spirited off to Independence, it looks like the job may fall to me. Anyone want to do it? I'll pay you five bucks. No? Jerks.

5. I am hungry today. Like REALLY hungry.

6. I think this post just crossed the line and became the worst thing on the internet today. Sorry about that.

7. I am extremely mindful this time of year of what a good place I am in right now physically. I think back to last year -- the pain, the tears, the crippling depression -- and I get teary eyed with gratitude. I do not think I will take my health for granted ever again.

8. Speaking of which, don't you love it when your insurance company overrides your doctor and decides what medication and treatment are appropriate for you? I am thinking I will call their 800 number next time I get a cold or a yeast infection. They seem to know best and will have all the answers for me, right? I'll make sure to especially describe in detail the yeast infection. And definitely to as many male employees as I can get my hands on.

9. I finally got my Christmas card done. This is WAY late in the year for me. I usually have it done and in-hand before Halloween, and have spent days wringing my hands in anxiety. The Husband has just not been home and we've been waiting on him to do the pictures. Though I did consider photoshopping Hugh Jackman or Mr. Darcy in, I felt it could create too much uncertainty and confusion for the children. Now I can rest easy. And it's going to be spectacularly awesome, if I do say so myself.

9. Yes, I realize I'm crazy. No, I don't care. In truth, it's the rest of you who are crazy. Waiting until after Thanksgiving to think about your Christmas card? Gives me hives. Oh, the horror.

10. A few weeks ago, I got the new iPhone and I have to say that Siri has changed my life. It makes texting and driving so easy. You push the big button on the front, tell it with your mouth who to text and what to say, and bam! your text is sent. No one has to die! I set verbal reminders for myself all day long, then go back to my little checklist and cross them off. You all need to get it. It's brilliant. (For the record, I never texted and drove before.)

11. And that's it! Happy Eleven Eleven Eleven. Send a little prayer up for those who keep this country safe. Also? Pray that I provide you a better blog post next time. This is absolute crap.

Inquiring minds want to know

I have two quick questions for you today:

1. Do you think there is enough protein in a piece of cake to justify it as a snack after a session with the trainer? I'm going to say yes. But only because I already ate it.

2. Is anyone else as obsessed with Les Miserables as I am right now? After Annie's post, a frantic text from my brother about the 25th Anniversary concert on PBS, and a phone call from a sister-in-law in Idaho who gets better broadway right now than I do, I just can't get enough of it. I have it on constantly in the car, I am losing hours watching videos on You Tube, and I finally just gave up and ordered my own copy of the concert from Amazon. I love it. It still makes me cry, even after all these years.

It also makes me feel old. I remember when it first came out. TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO. Yikes.

And someday if when I get to heaven, I am going to demand that my voice sound JUST. LIKE. THIS.

That is all. Happy Wednesday.

Inquiring minds want to know

Totally random, but there are some questions that have been rattling around this empty head of mine all week, and I am looking to the wise internet for answers.

You know, instead of putting my soft-core p@rn dreams out there for you to interpret. (Really, internet? Hugh Jackman? Really? I just don't get it. But then again all I can picture him as is the wolf man from Xmen. Never saw Australia. Maybe that would help?)

ANYhoo, onto the pressing questions of the day.

Why is it, no matter how hard I try, can I never divide my bread dough evenly? Is there a special tool out there that would ensure my loaves are the same size? I realize the discrepancy is small, but for this OCD brain, it hurts just a little every time I look at it. I have to stop myself from slicing the bottom of the smaller loaf off when it comes out of the oven.

Yes, I am diseased. No, I do not care.

Anyone have any answers for this one? A scale? A dough measurer thingie? I need something.

And then I can work on peace in the middle east.


Second, WHY can I put shirts like this in the washer with bleach and the colored writing on them comes out fine?


And shirts like this in the washer with bleach come out with all the letters bleach-ified? Why does bleach NOT affect some things and totally destroy others?

Inquiring minds want to know.

(These letters used to be dark blue. Now they are a manly shade of pink. Which totally makes my self-conscious middle school boy happy, I'm sure. And yet the rest of the lettering remains unharmed. What the eff?)


And last, but not least, why are there not seat belts on school buses? Do not tell me it is because the 60 children on the bus are actually safer without them. I've seen those buses barrel down the streets, and those kids are standing, kneeling, jumping, twisted around, and sitting every which way but forward. I am literally sick at the what ifs should the unthinkable happen.

Something tells me it has a lot to do with the thing they call money, and that bothers me a whole lot. After all, look at the precious cargo being hauled around every day:


That angel face is at least worth the cost of a seat belt. Don't you think?

Give me your best answers so I can sleep at night and dream about Ben Affleck the Husband in peace, will you?

Sleep, mountings, and a diet coke keg

I did not get to bed last night until four-in-the-freaking-a.m.

Yeah, I was partying like I am a twenty-something starlet with my peeps.

(Only we were all moms, and I believe most of us were wearing underwear. Except maybe Lori. She's kind of wild like that).

So, actually, I was partying like a thirty-something mom who has not seen her best girls for far too long.

And then the phone rings at the unholy hour of 8:28-in-the-freaking-a.m. It was the Husband, checking in and (really) calling to ensure that no one sleeps in around here.

Lord help me, I love that man, but he has no respect for the sleep in.

I have loads to do today, most of which involve sitting myself down at the pool with a book, though I doubt I will manage to keep my eyes open for even that. Thank heavens for lifeguards.

But before my head hits the desk in a sudden fit of sleep, I do need to address your burning questions about the photo mounting.

And, really, you flatter me. There are a lot of things I am capable of doing, but successfully mounting my own prints is not one of them. I would have no desire to even try.

[Is it just me or does that last paragraph sound kind of dirty? No? Nevermind.]

My secret weapon is my fabulous pro printhouse. I use them for everything. Their work is truly amazing. You will need to have a basic knowledge of Photoshop to order your prints, as you need to upload them in a specific PS format, but their quality is superb. If you are ever in need of any large-sized prints (or small sized, really) these folks are the way to go. They offer print mounting on a variety of substances for a very reasonable price. I've tried every type and have yet to find one that I do not love. They are awesome.

There. That is all. Off to tap a diet coke keg in hopes of making it until lunch time.

Happy Friday.

The one in which she returns from the dead to delight (and bore) you once again

Tap, tap, tap...

Is this thing on?

Anybody still out there? I cannot believe it has been ten days since I visited this little blog of mine. I don't think I've gone that long without blogging since, well, never.

What have I been doing?

Well, I have found myself inundated with photo shoots. Be sure to check my photo blog in the next few days to see some of the fabulous sessions I've had lately. I can't tell you the joy it is to be so busy you can barely find time to get it all in.

I've also taken a little road trip with my kiddos, my cousin, her children, and a car full of candy - pictures to come later this week. (Of the kids. Not the candy).

I have been busy working on a how-to post for the Divine Miss M. (Marta, that is. Though I'd just as happily do anything for Bette, should she ever call. Hi Bette! Loved you in Beaches!)

I have been recovering from a nasty summer cold that stole my energy, my voice, and pretty much my will to live.

I have been juggling (not very gracefully, mind you) motherhood, laundry, work, kids, and the Husband. Life just seems to have hopped a runaway train this summer, and there's no stopping it now.

Anyway, it's good to be back. I've missed you peeps.

And now, deep thoughts...

Some random thoughts before I dash off to take the middle child to the orthodontist (exciting life that I lead, yes):

Right now, I am head-over-heels in love with Glee. Musical numbers, tap dancing, fabulous singing guest stars, and the hilariously two-faced Sue Sylvester. I am smitten and cannot wait to hop on the treadmill every Wednesday morning for my weekly dose. If I could marry the show and have singing, dancing Glee babies - I would. Oh yes. I love it that much.

My friend Jackie and I used to talk about the music we liked to work out to. I told her then, and it still rings true today, that if you judged my iPod playlists, you would think I was a 50-year-old gay man. All the musicals, Streisand, and Barry Manilow you can cram in there, baby.


Also, remember a while back when I was looking for my motivation? Well, I found her. She snuck up on me and yelled SURPRISE!! really loud in the dressing room at the mall this morning while I was [ack!] trying on swimsuits. Though I am happy she is back, I do wish she'd come sooner. You know, seeing as how summer starts in like two weeks and these thighs are most certainly not fit to be seen by the general public.

Mucho apologies to the people who live in my town and will be witness to this parade of cellulite soon.

Also, anyone have acrylic nails? I have them and had two break halfway down the nail bed in the last week. My regular girl was out of town, and I do not think her replacement was up to the job.

There is nothing more tortuous than the pain of having to get that fixed. First they have to take off the old nail. You know, the one that's super-glued to your real nail, which broke in half, tearing the flesh underneath with it? I'm telling you - I would give away all our state secrets if tortured this way in less than a minute. I'd rat on every single one of you before they even finished with the first nail.

Hurts worse than childbirth. I'm not kidding.

Lastly, I am in desperate need of something good to read. I finished "The Help" a month ago, and I can't find anything comparable. I loved that book. Please leave me a comment and tell me what fabulous things you all are reading. I need a page turner that makes me happy.

There. That is all.

[I know. Sorry. I'll try to do better next time.]