Stuck in Frump, Striving for Fab

This is not a tale about how pets peeve me, but more about pet owners.

Blogger must be having 'issues' again, because this morning when I logged on, things were all messed up on my blog. It took some doing, but I think I've finally gotten things back to normal again. Somehow, a picture of our dog was posted where my own picture is supposed to go. Very strange.


1.) Lasagna, Baked Ziti and Pasta with Alfredo sauce are great foods to serve at our Church Youth Group Christmas Parties.

2.) Making gingerbread Christmas trees out of waffle Ice cream cones, storebought frosting, and tons of types of decorative candies was a much easier and far more enjoyable alternative for our large youth group than the crumbly graham cracker gingerbread houses Rachael Ray suggested doing last year.



3.) Allowing our 11 year old son (who was already hopped up on sugar from eating waaaay too much of the candy intended for said Gingerbread Trees, not to mention soda and other things not normally allowed in his everyday diet) to make a gigantic midnight snack of Lasagna and Baked Ziti after said party was not a good idea.

4.) It was a good thing I didn't go into nursing as a profession. Because aside from the fact that I couldn't even handle dissecting things in my biology class in college, I would have made a horrible and very unsympathetic nurse.

5.) Just smelling, seeing, or knowing someone is puking nearby is enough to make wretch and gag and even throw up myself if forced to get too close to it.

6.) My husband has a cast-iron stomach and can handle cleaning up puke.

7.) My husband does not appreciate me laughing like a hyena (and intermittenly gagging and wretching) when he wails from our sons bedroom while cleaning up said puke, "He got it on the wall!!!" (behind heavy, wooden bunk beds).

8.) Changing the sheets immediately after discovering our son was sick will result in immediately needing to change them again once he's settled back into bed.

9.) Puking episodes in our house will, without a doubt, result in needing to buy new pillows because ain't nobody going to touch the 'puke' pillows with a 10-foot-pole even if they are sent through the wash with bleach and hot water for two cycles with extra rinses each time...not even the boy that puked on them.

10.) Putting a towel over sons pillow does not work to protect his bedding from become soiled, because son could not possibly just turn to the side while puking, but instead felt it necessary to sit up and get it on everything else instead.

11.) Laundering the sheets, pajamas, pillows and cases, the 2 duvet covers and his two down comforters (one from the top and one from the bottom bunks, both conveniently on his bed that night) will, when all is said and done, give you the same workout as chopping five cords of wood.

12.) No matter how sick he appears to be (though without a fever), son will perk up immediately when his dad asks him what movie he'd like for him to rent at Blockbuster that afternoon.

13.) Because mom does not witness #12 take place, son continues to milk the situation for all it is worth, and she continues to wait on hand and foot on him for well over 24 hours, until son makes a critical error in asking his mom to take his picture (in bed) and blog about it.



Tell me, does this look like a sick child to you? A little spoiled, perhaps, but certainly not sick.

The dog in reference would be Raisin Mulan, for those of you that don't yet know me.

My apologies for the name. We dogs can't choose our owners or our names, and I feel the need to clarify right off the bat that my birth mother named me Chia Chen after one of our ancestors, but I was cruelly yanked from my mother's side ahem, adopted by the Master's family, and have since been forced to endure the name because my boy gave it to me.

The Raisin part I'm not crazy about, on account of a raisin being nothing but a shriveled up grape, but you have to give the boy props for seeing my warrior qualities as a mere pup and lobbying for my warrior name, Mulan. While it's not the name my mother would have chosen, it does give a nod to my Chinese-American heritage, so I can't complain.

In my early days with this family, I, Raisin Mulan, had a place in my captor's the families Christmas card. Because I was so wrinkly and adorable, I was fitted with some reindeer antlers and included in the picture, and not merely mentioned in the card.

A quick note to my bloggy peeps: Things have been chaotic around here, but I caught up on reading all your blogs today...however, I broke the cardinal rule where blogging is concerned and didn't comment on them. I know...and I'm sorry. Soooo sorry. Things have been crazy and I've been pressed for time, and I have dial up, so it would have taken hours. Do you forgive me? Please, please say you'll forgive me. I don't know if I can go on if you don't...

:: :: :: ::

Okay, back to my regularly scheduled blogpost.

This posting was done both in reply to several memes and to be part of BooMama's Christmas Tour of Homes.


As usual, I'm a day late (make that a few) and a dollar short, and still not ready for Christmas, but here goes...

***Disclaimer: Because of the fact that we have a toddler son in our home, and because I'm up to my neck in craft projects right now, please overlook the clutter that crept into a few of my pics. Everything looks just like it would if you were to drop by my house right now. Martha Stewart does not live here. (Of course, I wonder sometimes how much living she actually does in her many fancy sprawling homes. And did her children get to make messes? Just askin')***

Okay, here, we have our Nutcracker collection as it starts off the Christmas season. We started this collection when we were first married (loving my Aunt Pam's fab collection), and have added to it over the years.



Here, our son has several members of the collection engaged in battle.



Which also explains the heavy number of casualties among our smaller population of Nutcrackers over the years.

I'm not sure if you can see it, but back there behind all the craft junk on the table is our Christmas tree. Yep, the tree is up on a table because we were trying to prevent our youngest from breaking every ornament on it.



Here is a picture of our yearly ornament.



Since our first year of marriage, we have purchased a new ornament every year, usually the same one for each of us. This has really added up since we've had kids, as our tree is loaded.

The idea behind starting this tradition was that each boy will each have their own collection to take with them when they get married, along with a list explaining when, where and why we got that particular ornament, and hopefully carry on the tradition in their own families. Providing, of course, that the ornaments survive that long what with the way our toddler manhandles everything. There is quite a history in our collection of ornaments.

Here our yearly ornaments are displayed between the swags of our indoor garland in the archway between our kitchen and dining room. Surprisingly the kitchen side was relatively clean. The view looking the other direction shows the carnage of what was formerly known as my dining and living room areas.



On the counter are the candle holders that will grace the center of our table once all the craft junk is put away. They have to remain up on that high ledge or the boys will wield them like swords. Here is a close up.



Another tradition that began once we had children, was to take a yearly family picture for our Christmas card. These pics are added each year to collage frames on our "Wall of Fam".



It's fun to look back through pictures taken about the same time each year, and see all the changes...especially in the kids.

Each year since our older son has been in school, we've made yearly gifts for teachers, Sunday School and Awana leaders. This is this year's gift...dollar store mugs, a Peppermint Hot Chocolate 'kit', and Biscotti.



We make a separate gift for our Awana Clubbers and our Youth Group kids. Jericho also takes some of these in to give to his classmates at school during their class "holiday" party. This year, it was a cocoa packet and a candy cane in a 'kit' for a personal serving of Peppermint Hot Chocolate.



Below is a gift we make every couple of years for our friends that live nearby. A cookie mix in a jar.



Here we have our Christmas bear collection as I like them to be set up, and then how I usually find them. And yes, that's our ever present pile of laundry on the couch. I know, I know...I'm a frump, what can I say?



We also have a large collection of Nativity Scenes, which we didn't start out to collect, but people kept 'helping' us, and so our collection grew. Now we add to it from time to time, including getting the all the play sets we could find (which was something we figured would help to protect the porcelain ones). Though I try and keep them on display in the living room because they are so cute, this was the best I could do.



I'm also pretty sure there are a few pieces MIA. Probably under the couch cushions or in the water at the base of the tree again. **sigh**

We currently have 18 Nativity scenes around the house, some are in snow globe form, some are crafts our older son made, some are miniatures...but our son's favorite is this 'big' one with the removable baby Jesus. It's survived a vicious and unprovoked attack on the box while it was being stored in the garage simply because my then 3 year old son found a small phillips screwdriver nearby and had at it (remarkably, everything was unscathed), three moves, a couple of earthquakes, two toddler sons and a host of nephews and nieces rearranging the pieces.



One of my favorite times every Christmas is when we turn on all the tree and garland lights in the house, and turn off all the other lighting, and sit around while Jeff reads the Christmas story from Luke 2, and we discuss with our boys the rich significance of the advent of Christ's coming as that Baby in the manger...and what that means for humanity.

Jericho for many years enjoyed the 'treat' of getting to hold the baby Jesus during this special time, as Judah has this year. We're hoping that baby Jesus figurine makes it through the big day, though, as I've had to come running to rescue it on a couple of occasions already. We don't need any more 'missing' Jesus at Christmas time...the Lord knows there is already enough of that out there.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed your tour, and thanks for coming by. You're welcome anytime!

The very afternoon of my last posting, our neighbor's puppy dug a new hole under the fence.

This time, using the old noggin and realizing that Raisin wasn't as much of a threat to that puppy as previously thought, I went over to their house first thing and asked them to call their puppy back under the fence, then put a stepping stone over that hole the moment they did. I was so proud of myself, because the problem was solved. For a couple of days, anyway.

But I'm running out of stepping stones to work with.

The previous tenants in that home lived there with 5 grown pit bulls and a beagle. In a virtual postage stamp of a yard, I might add. Literally, had they had the brains to do it, they could have just piled up on each other, and sent scouts over the fence.

But when we learned that their Beagle was killed by the pit pulls, I got a little concerned for Raisin's safety. Those dogs had barked incessantly at poor Raisin since they day they moved in. They also jumped against the fence en masse numerous times a day, and tried digging under repeatedly.

In a very short time, it got to where I didn't even want the kids playing back there.

I finally invested in a bunch of stepping stones which I asked them to put on their side, as I didn't want it to affect our drip irrigation system which is laid out on top of the ground, but under beauty bark around our bushes.

Or was.

Now it's pretty much spread all over the place, with the hoses not watering the bushes they were intended to water, thanks to all the recent canine traffic along that fence, and me having enough to take care of inside right now.

Our new neighbors (the 3rd family in under a year and a half) are pretty good neighbors so far, which is nice, because we like having peaceful, friendly relationships with our neighbors. They also take care of their yard and don't allow dog poo and trash to accumulate out back until we can smell it over the fence or it blows into our yard, which is nice. But they used those stepping stones that were once lined up along their side of the fence to make a nice walkway in their front yard, which has left plenty of wide open space for their puppy to dig under like the naughty, poky little puppy.

I'm thinking some stakes driven into the ground all along the length of the fence is what we're looking at next, as I can't afford to fund their landscaping projects when I've got my own to maintain.

So anyway, this morning, just before my husband was to leave for work, we hear the same commotion from the other day all over again in our back yard. "Oh, man...not again!" I exclaimed and raced to the back door.

This is what we saw:



I realize the photo is a little blurry, and was taken through the screen, but do you see the pleading look that I was talking about on the puppy's face?

Yeah, the one that says, "Could you do something about your dog? I'm getting licked to death out here!" ...when the cute little thing had the nerve to come into our yard? (That's our Raisin looking rather incensed by the whole ordeal in the upper right corner of the photo).

"Could you go over and ask them to call their puppy home?" I asked my husband, trying to take advantage of the last few minutes he was home to grab a shower before the kids were up and about.

Before my shower is even over, Jeff calls into the bathroom, "Well, it's all taken care of. I took the puppy over."

?!?! For me, this was one of those Homer Simpson, "Doh!" moments. Or maybe Urkel, "Now why didn't I think of that?!"

Though I must admit that I did have a bit of a laugh about him doing this in his dress clothes, and out of curiosity asked, "So how did you accomplish that while dressed up for work. Did you have to come in and change?"

"No" he calls back. "I just held it out from me, and washed up afterwards." He was all matter-of-fact about it, confident the problem was solved, and then promptly left for work.

About an hour later, after Jericho's usual morning chores, he went out to play with Raisin for a bit before we left for school, but comes running inside and says, "Mom, that puppy's back, and he just ate all of Raisin's food!" Jericho had only put that food out a couple of minutes before, and Raisin usually takes her time eating over the course of a morning.

And suddenly the light bulb went on. That puppy was coming over for food!

Now I'm not a fan of Pit Bulls, for reasons previously stated, but this little pup is really cute. Golden eyes looking up at you from an endearing little tan and white face. Either that or my judgement was clouded by the fact that the boys were both at the glass sliding door exclaiming over the cute puppy, Jericho saying, "Can we just keep it since it keeps coming over?" and Judah crooning about the puppy the same way he does when he sees a little baby.




Then we see Raisin, and she's barking like mad. At first it looks like she's trying to be big and bad because we're all there, and she wants to appear to be 'on the job' as our loyal guard dog.



But I'm beginning to think what she's really saying here in her precise doggie dialect is, "Keep away from my food you greedy little pup!"

Our youngest ended up in our bed again last night because it was so cold, and he has a propensity for kicking off his covers in the night and then waking up cold.

And wouldn't you know Judah woke up when the front door clicked shut as Jeff was leaving for work. I was able to snuggle him back under the covers and pat his back until he fell back asleep. Ahh, another blissful hour of sleep, I thought glancing drowsily at the alarm clock then nestling into my pillow and drifting off to sleep.

I thought too soon, however, because after barely falling back asleep, I heard a commotion outside my bedroom window which was far noisier than even our clumsy dog Raisin is capable of. In the fog of my disturbed sleep, I imagined that her water might have frozen over and she was thirsty.

I dragged myself out of my stupor, and took my time puttering around my bedroom, doing everything to stay as quiet as possible so Judah would stay asleep. I stopped by the bathroom for my robe, and gaped at the reflection that greeted me in the mirror. The masque I'd put on last night while surfing blogs was still there, and scared me a little.

Well, of course I decided that I must go clean that off my face, and was headed to do so when I again heard what sounded suspiciously like a puppy whine and much clamoring around from the back yard.

Thinking I'd go yell at the dog to be quiet, then resume my normal morning routine and maybe get a shower and a few chores done before Judah woke up, I meandered to the back door, opened the blinds, and saw two dogs staring up at me through the glass.

We own only one dog.

One dog who at that moment looked very guilty. That skulking around, tail-between-the-legs kind of guilty.

Where had the little pit bull puppy come from?!

After trying unsuccesfully to coax Raisin into the house, I knew I needed a different plan of action. Especially after seeing Raisin, who is twice the puppy's size, slobbering all over the poor (already drooled on) thing, who though she could hold her own, looked up at me pleadingly.

Realizing immediate action needed to be taken, I hustled to the front closet, got my shoes on and pulled my coat on over my robe, and ran to the back door. I figured a little extra 'protection' on my arms wouldn't hurt, just in case the dogs got nippy when I tried to get them apart.

By this time, the dogs were back to playfighting, but in a way much like a big brother not knowing when enough was enough, and making the little brother cry (ask me how I know this?!).

Mind you, Raisin is a rather solitary animal. Not used to other dogs in her domain. She was thrilled with all the excitement, but I feared it was spurring her on to the point of reckless abandon. With warnings from our vet about how Shar-Peis are a very loyal family pet, but generally do best in one-pet households echoing in the corners of my mind (amongst the brain lint and dust bunnies).

I wasn't scared of the pit bull, but more afraid of what Raisin would do excitable as she was. I knew they needed to be separated pronto. But how?

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and grabbing the only tool available, I snatched up the nearby push broom which was leaned up against the house, and wielded it broom side down, swinging it back and forth in a scythe motion.

Yes, for a little while this morning, I was Pa Ingalls, harvesting wheat...or perhaps shoveling snow. And I somehow managed to separate the dogs and at least keep Raisin from her over-eager, "I want to pet the puppy, and hug the puppy and squeeze the puppy" Of Mice and Men behavior.

After quite some time, breath puffing in the frosty morning air, I finally managed to trap Raisin down at the end of our long side yard. There happened to be an old bike trailer parked there, so I set the brake on it, moved it to the side of the narrow passageway, and used the old milk can that is supposed to be holding all our rakes and shovels and such (but was empty) to block Raisin's exit, all while still wielding the push broom to keep the dogs apart. The puppy was trying to climb under the trailer to be with Raisin, the glutton for punishment.

Trapping Raisin behind this temporary fortress of sorts bought me just enough time to run to the back door and yell inside to wake my older son Jericho up.

Clearly, it was a job for more than one person, and I needed help, stat! How was I to encourage the neighbor puppy to climb back through the hole under the fence if Raisin were nipping at his heels and he needed to defend himself? We needed to rouse the neighbors and get them to call their puppy from their side of the fence if we were to make short work of things

Raisin, meanwhile, deducted that if you can't go over it...or around it...you can go under it, and squiggled her way under and was once again loose, and playfighting with the puppy by the time I arrived back on the scene.

Meanwhile, neighbor dog #2, the incessantly barking Pomeranian from Hades, shows up at the hole where the puppy got under, peeks under, spots me, and has the audacity to curl back it's lips and growl up at me.

Excuse me?! You're in my yard, pal. Get back! I lunged at it with the push broom, which worked to scare it back into it's own yard enough so that I could quickly lean down and grab up a nearby shovel to temporarily block the hole so that the Pomeranian couldn't join our rousting little morning calisthenics.

Raisin's excitement was growing and she was making growling sounds and getting all big and 'brave' with 'Mama' out there (no doubt gearing up to strut her 'guard dog' stuff) and frankly, I was worried she might hurt the puppy.

So Jericho finally shows up, and finds me in all my FrumpMama glory (looking much like the picture on the left there, sans the hot rollers), mask on my now heated-with-exertion face, in pj's and a bathrobe and a coat, wielding the push broom to separate the dogs. Again.

He sees me in this state, and promptly dissolves into giggles. Full blown, doubled over laughing hysterically laughter.

Ahh, nothing like your 11 year old laughing at you to chirk up your sagging spirits...while you are trying your durndest to keep two dogs apart, and are already weary from the battle.

"Get over to the neighbor's house and have them go out back and call to their puppy from their side of the fence so she'll finally go back under the fence" I snapped, annoyed.

He did, and returned, but no luck.

Apparently at that hour, only children were up in that house and they didn't know what to do.

So, after some creative maneuvering, I managed to get Raisin out into the main part of the back yard, while keeping the puppy behind me, and told Jericho to get Raisin into the house. "Trap her in the kitchen!"

In spite of his laughter, and between mimicking me 'lunging' at the dogs with the swinging push broom, he managed to do just that, and in short order.

Finally, after much further exertion, I was able to coax the puppy back through the fence (which was tricky with the Pomeranian peeking through and baring it's teeth at me from time to time), blocked off that hole with a stepping stone, and was finally able to go inside.

Stepping inside, I looked around, and found that Raisin had spent her confinement in my kitchen cleaning house.

As in licking every crumb she could from the floor beneath Judah's high chair, as well as retrieving the stray pieces of dogfood from beneath the chrome rack near where we keep the dog food bucket.



Though she caused me a boatload of trouble this morning, she redeemed herself by actually saving me a step in my morning cleaning! There was no longer any need to sweep, so all that was left for me to do was to Swiffer the floors and my work was done!

Hmmm, think it would it be 'crossing the line' to resort to just letting her in for a few minutes every morning for crumb patrol before I swiffer, lol?

First, the good news...

My dear friend Chrissy, who I've mentioned before here had a lumpectomy on her breast recently. Having had a cancerous lump in the past gave she and her doctors cause for concern, and so rather than just doing a needle biopsy, they went ahead and had a lumpectomy done to completely remove it all.

She got the test results back yesterday, and I'm wondrously happy to report that they were benign! Woot, woot!

I've been praising the Lord all last evening and all this morning! Yay!!! What a tremendous answer to prayer! Thank you so much for your prayers! And thank the Lord for this miracle!

:: :: :: ::

Random Brain Lint

Ball of lint #1.

Something must be wrong with our toddler son. He's the only toddler that I know of who is scared of Elmo.

Elmo, for crying out loud. I mean, everyone else loves Elmo, but not our Judah.

During our recent cold snap, I pulled out a tub of clothes and things I'd saved from when big brother was a toddler looking for these cute little Elmo slippers that big brother always wanted to wear everywhere, sure Judah would love them.

He wore them around for a little while (it was really cold).









I didn't think much about it again until I'd put him down for his nap, and realized he was no longer wearing the slippers.

I went out to the living room in search of them and found them like this.










Very deliberately turned upside down.

His statement on the matter.

That he'd left them on the corner of his beloved blankie, which was on the floor (the same blankie he simply cannot do without while napping) was more or less the punctuation mark on that statement.

Apparently Judah didn't like Elmo's eyes looking up at everything he's doing all day long.

Which is probably because he spends half his time doing things he knows mommy will not approve of.

Like, oh, say...putting various members of the Veggie Tales Nativity scene, two Matchbox cars, and a Christmas bulb in the water at the base of the Christmas Tree?



(This is the second batch of gooey, pine-needle laden stuff I've had to fish out of there, too.)

Or getting into everything he possibly can.



Yes, that would be literally.

Wad of lint #2.

Now, for something totally unrelated and random.

Ready?

Brace yourself, because I'm warning you...the following thought is profound and thought provoking (though probably not in a good way. More of a padded room, straight-jacket kind of way, lol!)

I *heart* my shredder.

Yep, you read that right. Not my salad shredder, but my identity-theft protection device office shredder.

I'm serious! It holds a place of prominence in my kitchen.

Every time I see it, it makes me want to break out in that song, "I've Got Tha Pow-uh!"

Nowhere else do I have that kind of absolute power and control at my fingertips! I can take anything with our personal information, and the weekly stack of unsolicited Credit Card applications and offers and turn them into a gazillion piece puzzle so complicated that anyone wishing to steal our identities would really have to work hard to do so.

As if the dual cut shredder weren't enough, we also have backup measures in place. We also throw the shreds in the under-the-sink kitchen garbage where it gets soggy, smeary and covered in undefinable goo that even the most desperate of criminals would not wish to touch, much less bother to try to decipher.

Mwahahahaha!


Plus, it's fun to make colorful packaging confetti out of my paper scraps left over from scrapbooking. (Go ahead and say that in Larry the Cucumber's voice, because a statement like that is just begging for it! Being a big Larry fan, I'm not in the least offended). Grocery store ads also make for a colorful confetti.

Loose thread #3.

I love that Christmas music is playing nearly everywhere I go this time of year. It makes for pleasant shopping and dining ambience, and often, I can't help but to sing along.

My husband and I recently enjoyed a pleasant dinner together at Johnny Carino's, and were pleased to hear a beautiful mix of Christmas music playing throughout the duration of our meal, mostly traditional, but with other old favorites thrown in as well.

I prefer the traditional Carols that are found in hymnals due to their very rich meaning, and the fond memories I have of Caroling and standing around the piano with my mom and sisters singing them during Christmasses past.

But there is also a sense of nostalgia that comes over me when I hear certain songs like Jingle Bells, Silver Bells, and I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas, among others.

Take for instance the song "We Wish You A Merry Christmas."

Ahhh, doesn't that one just warm your heart? People joyfully wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year? (Something not heard in the public arena much anymore).

Well, until you hear the lesser known and often unheard second and third verses, that is.




















Is it just me, or do the people in that song sound just a tad bit rude and...demanding of their hosts?

My husband already bought my big Christmas gift for the year.

And it's a really, really great gift, so understand that I'm not complaining.

How could I? It's the A&E Romance Collection of movies (from Costco) which among several other wonderful titles includes my all-time favorite movie ever, Pride & Prejudice, otherwise known around here as the long version.

I know this because I was there when we spotted said collection, and he and I both knew from last year's previous experience that, just like amazing finds at the dollar store, you have to strike while the iron is hot and get it right then and there or kick yourself for weeks for not getting in on that great deal while you had the chance. Because A&E's website sells these collections...for the unjustifiable price of nearly twice what Costco was selling them for.

As it happens, the one copy of this movie that our local Blockbuster rents is not only a bit scratched up, which causes an occasional digitized pause to mar our viewing pleasure, but is usually already checked out when a Pride & Prejudice emergency strikes. Besides which, with all the times I've rented that movie, we probably could have owned the entire A&E Romance Collection two times over. At the A&E website price. Clearly, it was high time we invested in our own copy, even at the cost of my knowing what I was getting for Christmas.

So I was a little surprised when he asked me what I wanted for Christmas.

Again.

In asking this, he claimed the trunk of the car was left open that day we bought it (while running a bunch of other errands), and that the hard-to-procure set of DVD's 'went missing'.

Now Jeff is a wonderful man that I dearly love, and I suppose I should be grateful he's such a horrible liar. But he actually fancies himself as being so cunning as to be able to pull off the old 'claim it's missing-then hide it-so that I'll be 'surprised' on Christmas morning' trick.

If the telltale flaring of his nostrils hadn't given him away while trying to convince me of this 'theft', then accidentally finding it while cleaning up the books (which our toddler gleefully pulled from the bedroom bookshelves) from the floor on his side of the bed would have.

The old 'under the bed' hiding place trick. How original.

He apparently thinks that all I do these days is sit around blogging and eating See's Candies Toffee-Ettes bon-bons.

What he doesn't know is that during my regular routine home maintenance, I probably look under our bed two or three times a week, usually trying to locate a missing library book that our older son left on our floor during reading time the night before, or a missing slipper, or while vacuuming.

Imagine my 'surprise' when I lifted the bed skirt two days after it's purchase, and found the movie collection under there plain as day.

I am SO onto him.

The least he could do would be to hide it somewhere that would force me to have to really look for it. Where I'd have to venture out into the garage in the cold among the spiders and the dust and actually hunt for it. Looking through things like coolers...and tool boxes...and behind things on shelves, or in a halfway empty tub (our currently unoccupied Christmas decoration tubs, for instance), or dare I even say it, wrapped up in bigger box disquised with something that rattles to try and throw me off the scent? Something a little more...convincing? Something that might even trick me into thinking the old 'flaring nostrils' reaction was, in fact, a very real need brought on by an impending sneeze?

But getting back to my quandry. Knowing the truth, do I tell him I want something small and well within our budget, or do I tell him one of the 'big' things I have on my wish list, playing along like I don't know that my beloved movie set lies just feet from where we sleep each night, and just hope that he doesn't try and impress me by getting me two 'big' gifts in one year?

Or, do I pull out all the stops and tell him about the granddaddy of all the gifts on my "Yeah, right...dream on!" wish list, so that he totally knows I'm onto him?

Because topmost on that list is something that would put our boy Ralphie's request for the Red Rider BB Gun to shame...



"I want a Dell desktop XPS 420 with Intel Quad Core Processor, 3GB memory and pre-installed Adobe software, virus and firewall protected, with wireless, high speed internet!"



But I'd settle for an upgrade to high speed internet.

Or maybe the yoga workout DVD I saw on sale at Wally World.

1. Getting part of my husband's Christmas shopping done yesterday.

2. How soft my hair feels after switching to a new Shampoo.

3. Hearing our 11 year old son trying to teach our 2 year old to say, "... 'Sup, homebiscuit?!", complete with cheesy hand gestures gang signs

4. Hearing the 2 year old say, "What is up, Home Bigsttthit?" in a very non-gangstuh way, complete with a lisp and a quirky little movement that could in no way be interpreted as cool because it was too stinkin' funny.

5. Getting everything done early in the day yesterday so that I could kick around the mall with my boys for a couple of hours of Christmas shopping before heading for Church.

6. Free Samples at See's Candies

7. Seeing a friend's 6 month old smile when I cooed at him last night.

8. Seeing our 2 year old son's delight at seeing that same baby, and our older son's exclaim later that night that the baby "was so cute with his big brown eyes."

9. Knowing that my friend, who is recovering from her lumpectomy (and currently has a very swollen breast which has made life of late a bit of a challenge) has not allowed this to rob her of her joy or peace, but continues to approach it all with her usual good sense of humor and complete trust in the Lord.

10. Remembering how the last time my son was sick, I tried to reassure him by telling him, "Oh, don't worry, you probably just picked up a stomach bug somewhere..." and how he looked at me with a freaked out look on his face, "B-bug?"

11. Christmas decorations all over our home.

12. The sweet lilt our 2 year old gets in his voice when he sees and gets to hold the baby Jesus in our big Nativity Scene.

13. When our older son asked, "Am I getting too old for toys?" while we were recently discussing Christmas wish lists (worrying about wanting to appear 'mature') and the relief on his face when I said that I thought he still had a couple more years to play with toys (after all, his dad was still playing with Transformers at 16 and he turned out just fine).

Yes, the parade did happen, and no, we did not get rained out.

However, as with planning a wedding there were a few 'unexpected' snafus to contend with.

Like the giant refrigerator box fiasco.

I'd tracked that baby down, had the appliance store hold it, and arranged for Jeff to pick it up. We got it home and safely into our garage Thursday night just before the rains began.

On the way to the work party to finish up the decorations for the float Friday night, we'd taken two seperate vehicles, and I looked back once and noticed in the mirror that Jeff was no longer behind the boys and I on the road. I had to keep going because there were people waiting on us to unlock the doors there.

Jeff arrived about five minutes later.

Without the box.

The difficult-to-procure box-of-immense-proportions which we needed to finish that float.

Though heavily weighted down in the bed of our truck, it's vast size and non-aerodynamic construction were no match for the severe winds and rain that had blown in, and the box 'caught wind' on the way there and blew out of the truck.

A mini-van ambling along behind Jeff's truck promptly ran over it on the flooded road. It was completely unsalvageable.

On to Plan B. B is for Bummer.

Then there was the situation involving our driver for our parade float getting caught in a 3 foot deep flash flood in his company truck the night before the parade. (A funny little aside: he calls for emergency help, and a fireman half his size shows up and says, "I'm here to rescue you. Would you like me to carry you?", lol. Our friend who towered over the firefighter was like, "Uh, no...I'm pretty sure I can make it across on my own, but thanks." Our friend was more concerned for the company truck, I think.) Late that same night, our driver ended up having to go to the emergency room, horribly sick, apparently having caught the same stomach virus his wife had a few days before and had to spend a night in the emergency room for. Oy, poor guy. He's still recovering.

So we find out while getting ready early the morning of the parade that my husband would be the substitute driver. Which changed our morning plans quite a bit.

On to Plan C. C is for cringing (from the additional stress).

This meant leaving earlier than anticipated to get over and pick up the truck and trailer (which we'd been unable to decorate the night before due to rains).

We brought all the decorations along to the meeting place where all the parents were to drop off and pick up their children. It was near to where we were to 'check in' our float.

Lots of kids turned out to participate. Far more than I expected after the calls that began at 6 am that morning asking if I though the parade was still on because it was so cold.

I'm sorry, perhaps it was my childhood in Western Washington where I stood in cold drizzling rain at the bus-stop for about 6 out of every 9 months of each school year, and then during college in Minnesota where I walked to class in the snow and 20 below weather several months of the year, but I don't have much sympathy for people who can't 'endure' the elements for brief periods of time. For crying out loud, for centuries people have survived (and thrived) in extreme weather with far less of the comfort and conveniences the average American has at their disposal today. Didn't these people know that their own grandparents had walked to school for miles, in the snow, in threadbare clothing, barefooted, for heaven's sake?

I finally just began telling them all, "Listen to the local radio station at 6:30...if there is an announcement that it's been canceled, don't show up at the meeting area. If there is no announcement, it's a go. See you at 7:55."

In any case, I was glad for the huge turnout.

Unfortunately, the giant props we'd made for the float were unusable. Partly due to the box fiasco, but mostly due to the whipping winds and because the float was so crowded.

Kind of disappointing when you've sacrificed many hours of sleep to make them, but oh, well...these things happen.

On to Plan D. D was for disappointing.

As it turned out, only the three banners we made were able to be used, and not in the way we'd intended. The two side banners were meant to grace the side of the truck beneath the Nativity scene, but the wind prevented this.

So we were forced to go to Plan E (E is for the Lord enabling us to still participate in the parade), by stapling them to the walls of the trailer full of carolersinstead.

We get to our meeting location at 7:15 am, and it's spitting rain intermittenly. Yes, it was horribly windy and COLD! Cold-enough-to-snow cold.

The kids were troopers.

We'd staple-gunned the giant Grand Prix car on the back corner of our float since one of our clubbers spent so much time working on it...but it blew off in a gust of wind.

On to Plan F. F is for following.

Which was what our Pastor was doing behind the float right then, and managed to stop and rescue the prop, but was unable to get it back to us in time due to the staging area being closed to all but parade floats.

Below is a picture I took from the float at the beginning of the parade route, where I spotted my mother in law (left center) and my sister in law (right center) all bundled up to see the parade.



Here was our trailer full of carolers. The red and green scarves were intended to make us 'match', but the cold necessitated wearing coats which were in every color imaginable. Instead, they came in handy for bundling up cold faces and wiping noses.

On to Plan G. G is for Gusto.

Which is what our Carolers sang with, thus really 'making' our float.

In spite of prop failure, we still got the message out, and represented the true meaning of Christmas. Perhaps the Lord intended that all along...take the focus off the 'props' and put them on the true meaning of Christmas.

Which means that our Plans A-G may not have been God's plans to begin with. Which brings to mind the following scripture.

Many are the plans in a man's heart,
but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails.
Proverbs 19:21

The scaled down version wasn't so bad after all. In the end, this was what our merry trailer full of Christmas carolers looked like.

And below is our Nativity scene.

By 9:15, the skies were clear and the sun came out, warming things up considerably. My son is in the green costume with the winter coat beneath it. He came running up before we left to show me, "Hey mom, check me out! I look obese!" He was holding his belly and laughing like it was a 'bowl full of jelly', lol. (He's embarrassed that I'm showing this picture, so I told him I'd explain).

And you sharp-eyed readers might have noticed that something very important was conspicuously missing from our Nativity scene...and not just the angels wings (the one in white on the right side). Nope, I'm talking about the Baby Jesus.

Heh, heh...there's a funny story about that (and no, it does not involve another a theft on the part of my toddler, lol). In fact, I went to great pains to get the baby Jesus doll to the costume lady Judy. Once she had it in her possession, it was out of my hands, and therefore no longer my responsibility, so we're completely in the clear, lol.

During the chaos of getting costumes over kids coats in the freezing cold wind earlier that morning just before float check-in time, the baby Jesus doll was accidentally left behind in Judy's van. We realized this on the way to the staging area, but her husband was unable to get it to us because the streets were barricaded to all but floats. This picture was taken shortly after we stopped at the staging area but before the actual parade began.

One of the girls in the caroling group happened to have a small white blanket along. Judy took it and improvised a bundled up thing that resembled a baby in swaddling clothes. Our little Mary held that during the parade itself, so all was not lost. The message about the true meaning of Christmas went out, and everyone had a great time.

All in all, it was a wonderful parade, and the props we didn't use were all saved for possible use in next year's parade.

:: :: :: ::

After the parade, we dropped off the trailer and truck to the appropriate homes, dropped by the store for a birthday card, and rushed to the family party. We stayed for a while visiting, then left to get over to the craft store to pick up a forgotten item for my craft station at that evening's "Christmas Craft Night", then jetted home for a quick nap before the big event.

Little Judah had only a half hour of intermittent napping in the cab of the truck during the parade. He was a trooper, but on the way home from the party, he couldn't take it another minute and became rather whiney.



He cried and cried.



Then he stopped.

And was so tired he drifted off for a brief nap during our drive home.

We arrived home, ready to take a nap...but Judah woke up revived and refreshed, and raring to go.

Needless to say, Jeff and I didn't get to sleep until last night about 10 pm. Never was I so thankful for our new later starting time at church as I was this morning!