Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Once upon a time, I used Photoshop in my job. I never really got the hang of it, outside of the mundane importing and cropping of boring product shots into even more boring product information bulletins that went on and on about mind-numbing properties such as Viscosity or Flash Point. But it's ever so much more fun to learn when you have a subject as cute as this to work with! So tell me, do you like rosy, pink cheeked Small Fry or Vintage-y, colorized Small Fry? Personally, I think either one is beyond adorable. But that's just me!

Wild Things

Man, weather can be wild sometimes. We've gone from a balmy, spring-like Monday to Tornado Tuesday to Snow Day Wednesday and that's just so far this week. I make a whole lot of fun of Cutie Pie because he is mildly obsessed with radar and forecasts, and he would watch the Weather Channel like sports 24-7, if only we had cable. But I can see the draw. It's big, it's wild, it's uncontrollable and nearly unpredictable... although he would probably disagree with me on that. Because an intelligent enough weather person, or perhaps a cute enough weather woman (he has crushes on most of them), can certainly give a highly accurate forecast IHHO. (I remain unconvinced).

But there is no doubt that a force strong enough to snap a tree in half, or pull it up by its roots and deposit it upon your roof is certainly interesting, to say the least.

And a trampoline in a tree...you just don't see that everyday.

But it was also interesting how quickly a house could move in my mind from a cozy, nesting place for a family, from a point of pride and status....to a pile of nailed-together wood whose only true purpose and worth is to remain standing and sheltering three small people huddled on the stairs should a gi-normous pine tree decide to fall on top of them. What clarity a bit of wind and rain can provide!

I think I'm usually pretty good under pressure. I had to laugh afterward, though, when I thought about how fast my heart was beating and how I was gulping in ragged, shaky breaths but I was still able to have that breezy, "isn't this fun, kids?" crazy Stepford mom voice coming out. Later they said they weren't scared. And that is good. Because Mama was scared enough for all of us.

Fresh Start

I love January. I know some people dislike old Jan...maybe it's the post-holiday letdown, or the bleak weather she brings or the cynicism of unkept New Year's Resolutions. But it does feel like a new beginning, no matter how you slice it, resolutions notwithstanding. You've got all that great loot from Christmas to pretty up your home and closets, which forces you to organize and declutter and throw out all your old raggedy stuff because it just doesn't go with the new, shiny stuff, does it? You make an effort to reconnect with the dear friends you missed seeing while you were all whirling around in a holiday frenzy. And you get a new calendar! Ahhhh. I love a new calendar. The blank pages are so pretty and crisp. Uncreased, they fan themselves out at me...full of possibility and hopefulness. I love to consider the ups and downs of the past year, the accomplishments and failures ....and think of new goals and milestones yet to be reached. And I think a lot about my peeps, too - the old and new friends come to mind as I write down their birthdays and their new addresses and their updated emails, maybe adding a new baby's name to the family profile. And I think, I'm so glad I met her last year. I hate that I haven't seen him since his last birthday. I've got to return that book to her, and she would just love the last one I read.... And I also, inevitably, experience the sadness of purging people that, if I'm following the rule of clean closets, I haven't spoken to in the past year. Some of them are easy to let go...like the annoying editor I had to work with at my last job. Or Animal Control, who really fell down on their job of controlling the mean dogs that kept getting out of my former neighbor's fence. But some are harder to let go. Like the one who moved two states away and didn't keep in touch or the one who has gone Home to "have fun with God," as Small Fry will say. I tend to keep those in my calendar. I may not have celebrated their birthday with them in several years, but I leave it written on the usual page because I imagine, if nothing else, I can think of them fondly on that day and maybe send a good vibration or two their way. I can look at their old phone number, and recall the conversations we used to have. I can look at their address and remember the great times we had around their dinner table. It gets a little crowded in my shiny new calendar, but I figure...I can always purge next year. Organization is overrated anyway.

Pay No Attention to the Chick Behind the Curtain

Well, we've been on a little hiatus haven't we? I'm sure, as my Twelve Most Devoted readers, you have taken note and perhaps have been wondering... What Gives? OK, maybe just one of you took note, but whatever. It's just a little case of stage fright combined with several weeks of personal drama not fit for internet consumption. But here I am - Happy New Year, Ya'll!- and I am in that Clean Sweep frame of mind... therefore, I am blogging again. And blog I must. Because it's an awfully good way to clear a girl's mind. And 12 readers isn't exactly what you'd call a stage, right? So I'm just going to get over that. But maybe you could help me out? If you are a member of my real life and you read me here, maybe you shouldn't tell me. Better to just leave me an anonymous comment or something like that. Otherwise, I may start sweating and blushing and otherwise dying of embarrassment. Obviously, I'm highly un-evolved and also a big old fraidy cat. But I'm really glad you're reading. Just don't look at me while you're doing it.

Pride Before the Fall

Habitat for Humanity Blitz Build 2008

I am proud to tell you that I am related to a couple of these people. They are two of my coolest relatives. One of them was not supposed to be on the roof. But here is the irrefutable proof that he was indeed on the roof - for all of the internet to see. He is officially in trouble with his loved ones, namely me. But he's still really, really cool so I guess I'll have to let him slide. Also he doesn't listen to anyone, so you just have to roll with it. No one can wear a Friday shirt like this guy. You have to admire fashion sense combined with technical know-how. It's a rare and precious thing to see. Way to go Mema and Da! You inspire your offspring, namely me.

I Got My Christmas Present Early

Santa brought me exactly what I wanted this year.

No, not the Lego Santa! The REAL Santa...

Cleverly disguised as a birthday present for this guy. Isn't he cute? Doesn't he look cold? He didn't bring a hat. Or a scarf. Or gloves. P.S. You don't know it yet, Cutie Pie, but it's going to SNOW tomorrow.

A birthday present that was just just as much fun for This Girl. Doesn't she look cold? I said COLD, not OLD. Notice, please: Scarf? Check. Hat? Check. Gloves? Check. It's possibly the first and only time in 19 years of being with Cutie Pie that I was more prepared than he was. (evil laugh). I did, however, wear loafers and cute trouser socks instead of boots. Well, I had to look good, didn't I?

We did NOT do this. Because we choose not to compete. Also, our chiropractor advised against it.

Would you look at that? I mean, really. I heart New York, yes I do. And I would have bought the shirt to prove it. If it hadn't been so cold. No, I don't want to marry it. But that's because I already have a cute husband.

And look, now he has a hat. And a scarf. And gloves. And ear muffs. We may be southern but we catch on fast. Don't mock his hat. Everyone had one in New York. No, not just people over age 60 either. Hey, if Brad Pitt can wear one, why can't he?

Merry Christmas to you and yours!

My Baby is Telling Me What to Do

I recently had a weekend alone with my girls, which was actually pretty fun, but also had its trying moments as I'm spoiled by the fact that I usually have my Cutie Pie with which to tag-team. One particularly trying moment occurred on Sunday morning when Big Stuff was giving me the business, and I'd not even had one cup of coffee. I sent her away from the kitchen a) to get dressed and b) because the situation was deteriorating at the speed of light. I looked up, heavenward, and said "God, Help Me!!" Then Small Fry pipes in, "Mama, if you want God to help you, why don't you just prayer to Him?" Yes, yes... Why didn't I think of that? Later, she was talking with me while I got ready to go out. She asked me, "Mama, why don't you have a chart?" (Referring to her "chore" chart, which reminds her to brush her teeth, brush her hair, and put her clothes in the dirty clothes basket). I said, "Well, I'm a grown-up. I remember all the things I have to do." She says, "Then why don't you pick up your clothes off the floor?" Yes, yes... Why, indeed? Thank you, darling. You are much wiser than those preschool teachers give you credit for.