Happy Belated Birthday, Kady with a D

My dear, sweet Kadybug,

Your 7th birthday letter is just one more example of how the 3rd child somehow gets the short end of the stick. Bless your heart, your baby book has your name in it - and that's it. Your sister's is detailed beyond belief, your brother's is fairly filled-in, but sweetie, let's just face it - yours is blank enough you could just white-out your name and use it for your own child.

I really do apologize for the lack of journaling your life. However, my precious Kady Princess - the memories you give me on a daily basis don't seem to fade over time. I am sure as the years go by they will, but for now I am satisfied in using my blog as your baby book. I hope you are satisfied with that as well.

You are amazing. You are emotional, tender-hearted and incredibly exasperating and over-dramatic, but goodness, I wouldn't want you to be any other way. Well, on most days, anyway. You still seem to think the world revolves around you, but then, you've felt that way since birth, so I don't expect it to change any time soon. I guess all I can do as your mother is just make sure you use your powers for good, not evil.

You are struggling with your spirituality this year and Kady, I cannot wait to see what this next year does as far as your spiritual growth. You ask me questions about God and salvation and eternal life and Heaven and angels and well, let's just suffice it to say you ask a lot of questions all the time. Daily. Constantly. I love your sense of wonder, especially when it come to your relationship with God. Last night we were watching a movie about the Rapture and you were crying (how unusual), frustrated that you weren't saved yet and what if Jesus came back right then? I explained to you that you're asking all the right questions and you're on the right track and when your little brain and heart are ready to understand it all you just will. That's when you wailed, "I can't believe I'm so stupid I can't even be SAVED!" Oh Kady, it was really hard to not laugh out loud at you. Bless your heart.

You have always adored your big brother, but lately you despise him. To me this is aggravating, considering I always wanted a brother and never had one. He worries over you constantly, even while he pesters the devil out of you. Yesterday at the mall the poor boy nearly gave himself a panic attack several times when you got out of his sight. You found him completely annoying and more than once gave him a firm shove with both hands. Now, he could've shoved you right back, but instead he just shook his head - but he never quit watching over you like a hawk. My advice - give him a break. I didn't like your Yaya when we were kids, but now she's my best friend. I would imagine a brother is a wonderful thing to have.

You did not want to be a First Grader this year and for the first few weeks of school you weren't all that fond of your teacher, then something magical happened and the two of you bonded so strongly I sometimes wonder if she and I should start hanging out because you paint quite a picture of this amazing woman. I felt that way about my First Grade teacher, too, though. You love school - oh, not for the work. The work is just a mere inconvenience in your vast social networking for 7 hours a day. You tolerate it in order to be around your friends. Thank God you're smart and the work comes easy so you have more time to lord over everyone in your presence.

Your asthma has gotten so much better this year. I thank the meds and your PA and the good Lord above for this. Of course, you still drag it out when you are tired or feel you have been injustly corrected, reprimanded or simply don't want to do something. Know this, though - I'm no dummy. I know when you're faking. So does most everyone else.

When I think of how easily you could've come too early and how sick you could've been and all the unimaginable things that could've gone wrong, I am so thankful a little asthma is all we have to deal with.

About a week after I found out I was pregnant with you I started spotting. The pregnancy we hadn't planned on, had had no intention of ever experiencing and were totally blindsided by, became suddenly fragile to me. I didn't know how badly I wanted you until the thought of not having you entered my head. Then when you tried to come early I got scared all over again. Fortunately, you managed to stay where you were planted as long as you needed to and a dramatic pre-Christmas entrance into the world just five weeks early was dramatic enough to suffice.

I can only imagine the convincing God had to do to assure you that coming early was not in your best interest and I can only imagine how you argued that dramatics were sure to be your specialty. Thank you for listening - for once.

I've said it many times and I'll say it again - We never knew how much our family needed a Kady until we had one.

Happy 7th birthday (just 11 days late), Kadybug. I love you.

Momma.

Festivus 2008

My mom's side of the family celebrates Festivus this time of year. We have taken the Seinfeldian holiday and added our own twists, written a set of by-laws that are strictly adhered-to and exchange tacky gifts. It's one of those nights where you wear a panty liner and make sure you don't have gas because all of the laughing is bound to make something accidental happen before it's all said and done.

Some background: Everyone age 16 and above, who are official members of the family by way of birth, adoption, or marriage, are allowed to participate in Festivus. Everyone buys/builds/constructs a tacky gift not to exceed $8.18. The gifts are placed anonymously in a recepticle outside the house where Festivus takes place. Depending on the year, even or odd, the order of gift-choosing goes oldest to youngest or vice-versa. Each person in turn chooses a gift from the recepticle and then the hilarity begins. After all of the presents are opened a winner is chosen by secret ballot voting and the winner wins the Turkey Award. The esteemed winner gets to have their name engraved upon the plaque and the plaque must hang in the winner's main bathroom for an entire year. There are many more intricate details that I won't go into in this post, but if you are interested you can email me.















This is the Official Gift-Holding Recepticle for 2008. The first year, the year we hosted, it was a gigantic black trash bag (does that surprise anyone?) and last year it was a huge box. Guess Cousin Courtney got all fancified this year with a festive red bag. Woohooo!

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The gift I gave this year was a "Snoogie," a knock-off of the Snuggie (As Seen on TV!). I know Miss Wisabus will be proud of my gift, seeing as how she mentioned Snuggies in a post about buying Christmas gifts.

The Snoogie was a women's robe I bought at the Friendship House for $1 and then wrote a sheet of instructions on how to wear it backwards. There were also details on repercussions of wearing a Snoogie in public and risking getting the crap beat out of you and a disclaimer stating that wearing your Snoogie to a sporting event could very well cause your team to lose.

Everyone knew it was my gift because the sheet of instructions was a little long-winded and apparently, so am I. Who knew?

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Cousin Courtney got a talking Tom Turkey, but when she pulled him out of the box his neck started oozing some freaky goo and he refused to talk. (I'd refuse to talk, too, if my neck was oozing freaky goo.)

So, being a resourceful kind of gal and freakin' hilarious, Courtney just held ol' Tom in front of her face and spoke for him, reading his phrases right off the box. As you can see from the look on my mom's face in the background, it was a riot.

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Nonner thought Festivus was boring.

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Cousin Kristina opened her gift and as you can see from the look on her face it evidently wasn't something she had put on her list for Santa.

Before you go thinking she was ungrateful, you should read the box:














Nothing says Happy Festivus like anal itch creme. I mean really. Right?


Think about it - the holidays are brighter when your butt is itch-free.

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Ah yes.... with my largely political family in an election year we were sure there would be political gifts. Sure enough - someone "personalized" a picture of the Bushes (by way of WiteOut and paste) to the lucky "Glenn Family Festivus Recipient". I find it no simple twist of fate that my Republican husband got it.

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But the Republican gifted a hand-made Joe the Plumber ornament, which immediately was given a place of honor at the top of the tree by Cousin Chad.

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Cousin Scott got some Farter's Underwear, which boasted a filter in the rear.

Of course, he modeled. And ripped them.

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Ooh, what is being shrouded in that large white trash bag? The look on Mom's face is one of pure trepidition, is it not?

Anyone holding a trash bag at Festivus has every right to be trepiditious.

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Cousin Courtney is a frequenter of the Friendship House in Miami. It holds a plethora of stuff not even garage sale-able and man, she hit the mother lode.

As soon as Mom pulled out this wicker duck Tater and I both exclaimed that a duck just like that one had sat on the back of an old school desk in our dining room when we were growing up. It had a plant in it. Mom's been getting rid of stuff right and left....one has to wonder if she ended up with her own wicker duck after all these years.

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Being a shopper at Friendship House myself, I'm shocked I overlooked this little gem dandy. Pink Santa! Hooray!

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Ooooh la la!

I hope she specifies this one for me in her will.

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Since Gentleman hasn't joined the family officially by way of birth, adoption or marriage, he couldn't actively participate in Festivus, but he and Tater put their evil heads together and came up with a sweet gift, which I got:

A g-string made entirely of candy necklaces. Since they didn't make it in a size XXXXXXXL to fit my specific hiney, I chose not to try it on for fear the elastic would give and thus shower Cousin Courtney's living room in candy. However...my husband felt it necessary to model my gift.

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That's right, folks, just call him Paul "Candy Pants" Hoover the next time you see him.















The air freshener on the butt floss was a thoughtful touch, I thought.

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After the votes were cast and tallied, the winner of the Turkey Award this year was Aunt Janet who gifted the anal itch cream. It was a close race between the itch cream and the g-string, which makes me think that 2008 should be declared The Year of the Butt.

The winner gets to engrave their name and some other little saying or, at the very least, the name of their winning gift on the plaque. For instance, Cousin Keith won the first year and of course his was something to do with being #1. Last year Cousin Chad won with his blow-up sheep, so his placard reads "Ewe Can't Touch This." I suggested that Aunt Janet's reads "Funny, 'Butt' I Won" or something to that effect. Given enough thought one could come up with endless ideas for her winning statement this year. Last year I was robbed with my tampon angel ornaments coming in 2nd. I already have a nail on the wall in my bathroom in anticipation of someday winning the coveted turkey. Maybe 2009 will be my year. I have a year to plan...


We all left with headaches and stomachaches from the laughing and just like every year past, we declared this year to be the Best Festivus Ever. I don't know how we keep topping ourselves.

Whew!

I hadn't intended on taking a break from the blog this Christmas, but it appears I have. To all who have stopped in after seeing the display at the Park of Lights, first, thanks and second, stop back in. I'm not usually this absent. Promise.

We've had a few snow days, a school Christmas program, school parties, a 7th birthday and bowling party, a family Christmas with my new step sisters and brother and all their kids, Festivus, a trip to the ER to get a piece of wood out of Kady's eye, working the entrance gate at the Park and now finally Christmas Eve. We're worn the heck out. I have oodles of pictures - the most exciting of which are of Festivus where my husband donned a g-string made of candy necklaces - which I'll post Friday when I've had a chance to catch my breath.

In the meantime, I'll share a picture of my kids tonight in the shirts the dogs caused them to get weeks before Christmas because the stupid chewing beasts shredded the package when the mailman left it within beagle-reach:

Because nothing says Merry Christmas like skulls.

Ho Ho Yawn

Folks, I am tired. And I mean tired. It is after 1am and I just finished wrapping our Festivus gifts for tomorrow evening. I really need to do the ahead-of-time stuff for the bruschetta for tomorrow evening, but at this point I'm afraid I'd end up slicing a finger right into the olive salad.

Tonight was Christmas with Mom and Pops and Pops' kids. It's a toss-up as to which of my gifts is best - the hot pink laptop podium from Mom and Pops or the camouflage cloth napkins, handmade by Sister Kendra. Y'all will be begging me for dinner invitations now that you know I have those babies, won't ya?

Kady ended up with MORE Littlest Pet Shop paraphenalia, a fleece blanket with her name on it AND a new backpack with her name on it. Sam got the DS game The Tale of Despereaux and an exploding Spy Gear doohickey which I'm sure will roll into the room and KABOOM at really inopportune times. Abby got a jacket with a skull and her name on it and a chearleading game for the Wii Fit. I know, skulls and cheerleading - she's a little tween enigma, eh? Paul got a cooling station for his laptop. When he opened it I said, "Oh good! I've been so worried about his hot thighs!" And of course he leaned over and made a suggestive comment about heat and thighs. He's so precious that way.

Tomorrow is my Kadybug's 7th birthday. I have yet to write her birthday letter, but then...I still have yet to write anything in her baby book. That poor 3rd child. She tends to get slighted since she was born five days before Christmas. We try so hard to make sure her birthday is special and completely separate from Christmas, but sometimes it's so HARD. Her BFF Jaycee is here tonight and in the morning we'll pick up two of her other friends to go bowling.

After bowling tomorrow I will deliver the girls back home, come back here to make the bruschetta I should be prepping right now, load up and fly to the Park of Lights to see Santa since we're not going to make it to Silver Dollar City this year to see the real one (they're going to have to be content with a "poser" as Kady calls Santa's helpers), fly to town for Festivus then come home, sleep a few hours then get up and go to the church for the Christmas program which I am directing. Eek! Thankfully, though, my Christmas shopping is done and Monday I can sleep in. I think. Unless I'm forgetting some event....must check my calendar....

Oh and for those of you close enough to go through the Park of Lights down by Wyandotte, PLEASE DO. Rumor has it we're getting OODLES of votes, way more than last year. We'd love to win 1st prize this year and we can't do it without VOTES. From YOU. So go through, go often and VOTE for #46! Please?

Redneck and Proud of It

We have the lowest package available on DishNetwork - the Family package. (Which doesn't include the kid-friendly Disney, go figure) While we get Nick, Boomerang, GAC and the Outdoor channel, we don't get CMT, the station that is home to My Big Redneck Wedding.

Remember back a few months ago I kept hinting around about a TV producer, audition tapes and other such silliness? Well, it was because a production assistant from Pink Sneaker Productions, the company in charge of producing such high-quality programming as My Big Redneck Wedding, I Love New York, MTV's Cribs, and Hogan Knows Best, among others, emailed and asked if we would consider auditioning for the upcoming holiday extravaganza My Big Redneck Christmas.

Well heck yes! I called all the folks from Mom's side of the family (even though Paul's family is WAY more redneck than us, they are considerably anti-social) and they were in so we got together, had a weenie roast one Sunday afternoon, filmed the hilarity (rednecks and weenies....imagine the conversations...) and sent off the tape with our redneck wishes and hillbilly dreams inside. The more time that went by we all assumed we didn't get on the show and frankly, I kind of forgot about it. Then one afternoon the production assistant called me to say she had just left a meeting where we had been declared the front-runners and they needed another tape ASAP. We made another tape, kicked things up a notch and sent it off again.

I had been told that filming would take place the first of November and the camera crew never showed up so we obviously didn't get on. Saturday I got a phone call from Cousin Courtney and Aunt Janet because they've got "big cable" and had watched My Big Redneck Christmas. Courtney said that even though she'd only caught the last 10 minutes of the premiere airing, she was really glad we didn't get on - she said the deep-fried possum was just too over the line for her. Aunt Janet's excited phone call was punctuated with my uncle's declarations in the background, "Those folks are professionals!" I guess the horseshoes played with toilet seats, the rolling junk cars down a hill to see whose would crash worse, positioning the yard reindeers in provocative positions and shooting the plastic Santa off the roof was what brought him to that decision.

Now, my mom has told me several times "Honey, you're just not as redneck as you think you are" but I disagree. For one thing, Jeff Foxworthy - who might as well be the Pope of All Things Redneck - defines the word redneck as "A glorious lack of sophistication." Now, we are gloriously unsophisticated, but we are not white trash. Oh yes, Virginia, there IS a difference. I think people have skewed the term redneck into hillbilly bordering on po' white trash and there's probably nothing all of us true rednecks can do about it. It's just that when people see shows like My Big Redneck... they are getting a false impression.

My hopes all along had been to get on the show and clarify this, but obviously they got wind of my conversation plans and nixed it in favor of the people who dangled a cigarette out of the mouth of the mounted deer head on the living room wall. Sorry, our deer is a non-smoker because of Kady's asthma.

Out of curiosity, I'd love to read comments from y'all giving me your personal idea of what a redneck reallly is. Do you think it's all mullets and wife beaters or is more duct tape and Southern engineering? Or maybe it's buying holiday centerpieces at a dollar store? Or possibly angel ornaments made out of tampons or tossing a hunk of roadkill into the turkey fryer around the holidays? Seriously, y'all, leave a comment and tell me

What Redneck Means To You.

R'minder

There's a new review up at my review site for a product that is near and dear to my heart.

Please take a few moments to check it out!

Plum Crazy

The other day as my aunt and cousin were getting ready to leave my house my aunt asked if I had ever read a Janet Evanovich book. As she held Foul Play out to me I said, "Oh that reminds me - the other day I got an email from Janet Evanovich's 'blog monkey' declaring me to be one of their favorite blogs." It was at that point my Aunt Janet's jaw hit the ground and my Cousin Courtney jumped from her car. Aunt Janet nearly screamed, "YOU GOT AN EMAIL FROM JANET EVANOVICH???" I clarified: "No. Her blog monkey."

I hear blog monkeys can be very flattering - this one had me at "one of our favorites."

After much fast talking from them both I took the book so I could partake of the reading wonderful-ness they were both gushing about rather excitedly in my front yard. I'm halfway through Twilight right now, but with all the snow days we're forecasted to get this week I figure I'll start Foul Play tonight. And no, up to this point in my life, I have never read a Janet Evanovich book, even though my friend Trishia has been trying to get me to for years. I know. I should probably be flogged or something.

The newest book in the Stephanie Plum series coming out January 6th is Plum Spooky. While you wait for January 6th, have a gander at this Preview of a New and Exciting Book/Holiday Greeting YouTube from Ms. Evanovich herself. (Or maybe her blog monkey. Or blog rhinocerous since the blog monkey takes care of emailing. Just a thought.)

Two redneck women, a can of cooking spray and a Christmas tree

Last Saturday I trekked all the way to Little Kansas, OK, to visit my BFF Tiff (who has a brand spankin' new blog, by the way). We met her and her husband, John, back when Kady was probably two, so we've known 'em awhile. Even though I'm 11 years older than Tiff we hit it off right from the start. I swear there are times we share a brain. When they moved to Tahlequah, which might as well have been on the other side of the universe, I was devastated, but I love 'em and wanted the best for them. But....not once did I ever make to to Tahlequah to see them. I know. I'll just put my BFF Award right next to my Mom of the Year Award.

So when I sent Tiff a text last Thursday and asked if she minded that we invade her home on Saturday she said she nearly fell out of her chair in surprise and utter excitement, because, ya know, I often do that to people - excite and surprise.

She had sent the directions in a text message and after Sam's basketball practice we were on the road. Now, maybe I'm just a really slow driver, but Tiff said it would only take 45 minutes to get there. I took us nearly two hours, however, the last 30 minutes were spent driving back and forth on a seemingly endless red dirt road, swearing the entire time that I heard banjos. If I'd seen one toothless hillbilly, barefoot in overalls I'd have been SO outta there, BFF or not. We finally arrived, chatted, got the grand tour of the house, the kids ate, we chatted some more, I burned a few Christmas CDs for her and then she announced it was time to put up the Christmas tree.

Her tree is GINORMOUSLY HUGE and while I was a little jealous, I was also a little intimidated by the behemoth she said we were going to put in her dining room. It made my 6 1/2 foot living room tree look like a shrub and my 5 foot dining room tree look like that poor tree from the Charlie Brown Christmas special. She also had this gargantuan base for the tree that was supposed to rotate the tree to make sure all ornaments have equal face time. I would never be able to have a rotating tree because no matter how hard I try to convince my children the back of the trees need ornaments, too, they just don't get it. My tree would be all sparkle, sparkle, sparkle....bare....bare....bare....sparkle, sparkle, sparkle....

We hoisted the metal pole on the bottom section of the tree into the hole on the base, Tiff tightened the screws and voila, section one of three complete. Yah right. We lifted the middle section and put it into place, except it wouldn't go all the way down into the fitting. We tried to pull it back out and start over, but it was stuck. We took turns holding the base of the tree while the other tried to yank that middle section back up. There was a piece of wire that had gotten in the way, thereby causing the two sections to be forever fused together. We were both scratched up, sweating and had muttered a few cuss words under our breath when Tiff said, "Wait. I have an idea." She went to the kitchen cabinet and whipped out a can of canola oil cooking spray. When I busted out laughing she shrugged and said, "What? The WD-40's in John's truck." And then she sprayed her Christmas tree pole with canola oil. Eventually we managed to get the wire out of the way, but I don't think it had anything to do with the cooking spray, and we took the pieces apart and put them back together correctly. We put the top section on and stood back to admire our handiwork. While we were admiring Sam hollered from the living room, "Y'all know that tree's leaning, right?" The boy nearly got a can of canola oil thrown at his wee head.

But he was right - the tree was leaning and doing it bigtime. After some wiggling, head-scratcing and muttering, Tiff got a screwdriver and crawled under the tree to tighten the screws again. And again. And again. No matter how many times she tightened them they would not hold that tree steady. After she read the directions on the rotating base, it was apparent that her tree was entirely too gigantic for that base. We dismantled the tree, piece by piece, she found a roll of painter's tape (the duct tape was with the WD-40 in John's truck) and she sat in the floor to figure out how to Southern engineer it. She removed the little plastic collar that was designed to steady the a "trunk", aka pole, in the base, then said, "Where's the dang canola oil?" Then my BFF Tiff sprayed canola oil all over the pole and what she did next was so visually hilarious and borderline x-rated that I can't even begin to write about it. When she saw the expression on my face and realized what she was doing we both lost it. She ended up on her back on the dining room floor, I ended up doubled over and we both laughed till we were out of breath. Abby walked through at one point, didn't even ask what was so funny, just shook her head and kept on walking.

When we regained our composure I suggested that instead of lubricating that poor tree any more, why not just use the tape. Of course, by that point we were both slap-happy and our minds were in the gutter so every comment from that point on was chock full of inuendo and made us cackle like a couple of hens. Two hours after we began, her tree was finally standing proud in her dining room, it's base wrapped in tape, and tied to a closet door because it was still a little lean-y.

I'm not sure how to end this story. There are so many ways.

Like, "Redneck Christmas to all and to all a can of canola oil!"

Or, "All I want for Christmas is some WD-40..."

But I think I'll leave you with this - "And remember kids: All of life's problems can be solved with your BFF, a roll of tape and a can of cooking spray."

All Lit Up - The Photos

Since some of you aren't local enough to come visit my display in person I thought I'd share some pictures from the park. Click to make 'em all big and stuff.

Here's a shot of the clothesline. Duh.











Possum #1. Hangin' out on the outhouse.















View from the road.










Possum #2. Lookin' for some vittles.














This sign drives Abby nuts. One of her friends was with us the other night when we went through. She asked, "Uhm....wow.....who misspelled 'very'?" Abby rolled her eyes and said, "Ugh. Mom did it on purpose."















Ooh and here we catch a rare glimpse of Redneckus Americus Oklahominid in his native habitat. See how he interacts with the pastel fowl surrounding him.
















If you're close enough to NE Oklahoma to come through here you really need to see it in person. And if you've been through, please leave a comment! I'd like to see if anyone is actually paying attention to the giant sign with my web address on it.

Pondering

* Why is it that I have my best hair days on the days I have no plans to leave the house? While I'm sure someday he'll look back and remember fondly about how gorgeous his babysitter's hair was, I just hate it that Nonner's the only one who sees how awesome my hair can be.

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* How much money and talking-into do you think it took to get Barbara Streisand to sing "Silent Night"? I mean really.

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* My mom buys the kids an ornament every year that most generally has something to do with their current interests. For instance, we have a metric ton of Tinker Bell ornaments because well, the girls really, really like Tink. Sam has a karate dude for the year he started karate and the year he was into Cars prompted the Tow Mater and Lightning McQueen ornaments.

The other day I called my mom to ask if she had bought Ab's ornament yet. She said she had and I asked what she got her. See, Abby's only interest this year is The Pink Skulls of Doom (thanks to Sam's son Chicken for the name - that's what we call them all the time now) AND whining enough thinking she can wear us down into buying her a cell phone. She's not getting a dang cell phone so I think it entirely fitting that she have a skull ornament for the tree. At this suggestion my mother's head nearly exploded and she screeched, "Heavens NO I am NOT buying that child a SKULL ornament! That's....that's....well, it's just sacreligious!"

My argument? "Mom, it's not sacreligious. Jesus had a skull."

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* I took some great pics of the kids last weekend and am planning on framing some and was planning on using them in my Christmas cards. However, since they got their skull shirts early thanks to 2StupidDogs, I'm considering taking some more of them in their skull shirts and using them instead. I wonder how far the screams from my mom's house will travel....

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* The other night Cousin Courtney had called to tell me about the two gigantic, bright stars in the sky not really being stars but Jupiter and Venus. I hollered at the kids to follow me out into the yard so we could look at them and ooh and ahh and stuff. Just as we stepped onto the front porch this HUMONGOUS falling star fell right in front of us. It was honestly the biggest falling star I've seen in my life, which a bright trail behind it and everything. What happened next was a big ol' mess of screaming and falling and crying and laughing.

Just a few nights before that, Abby, Paul and I had watched the movie Signs with Mel Gibson. Okay, wait...that made it sound like we watched it with Mel Gibson, but I assure you we didn't. Anyway, the movie is about aliens who invade earth, apparently to take it over and while they're getting ready to invade they make crop circles and stuff. It's one dang scary movie - the suspense is brutal. So when Abby saw the falling star and subsequent trail she apparently thought we were being invaded and let out this ear-piercing, blood-curdling scream, which scared the poo right outta her little brother, who turned around to run back in the house and plowed right over his ltitle sister, who landed on the ground on her backside, and her falling knocked Sam off-kilter and he fell, too. This domino effect of confusion happened in about 5 seconds, but I watched it all in slow motion. Then I laughed till I needed a pantyliner.

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* The same night we watched Signs we also watched Mean Girls with Lindsey Lohan. Okay, again, no, Lindsay Lohan did not sit on my couch and eat popcorn and watch herself in a movie. Anyway, that movie just cracked me up. It just reminded me so much of how high school really was. Cliques and groups and popularity issues....gah, so glad that's over.

That being said, I am astounded how many dang people from high school I have reconnected with since I've gotten a Facebook page. Just about every day I either find someone new or they find me. Just this morning I got a friend request and it said we had one friend in common and that friend-in-common was a girl I was in Girl Scouts with and well, I just figured she'd decided to add me because of her. I confirmed her and went about my merry way. I mean, there are a couple of people on my friends list I have never met in my life, but they read my blog, so I added them. Kind of like how Zoot and DadGoneMad have me as friends even though I'm really just pretty much a fan/stalker. Not that I'm saying I have fans OR stalkers because okay, let's face it, I'm just not that popular. Yet.

ANYway, turns out she and I were in Band together and I like, totally went with her brother in Junior High and he was the first guy I ever held hands with and oh wow, she's like, in law school and stuff. *blink blink* Oh my gosh, I just channeled my 15 year old self.

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* If I ever volunteer to direct the church Christmas plays again, tell me to not be stupid. Tell me about how no one shows up to practice and how they all repeatedly say, "I can't do this - I look stoooooooopid!" and tell me how my own daughter is the very last one to memorize her lines and honest to gosh, just tell me to take up cross-stitching if I need something to do that bad.

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* We try to drive through the Park of Lights every few nights, not only to vote (display #46 - just for the record) but to check to make sure everything's still lit. A friend informed us we had a light out the other night and fixed it for us, but we don't want to rely on the kindness of our friends to take care of any issues.

The other night after church we drove through again. The church is literally right across the road from the park, so any time we're at church we go through. It just kind of makes sense. It had been really windy that day and the coffee kettle and tin pan had nearly blown off the "table" in the display. I asked Sam to get out and fix everything. He gladly jumped out and arranged everything back to normal. He turned and was heading back to the car when he stopped, turned around and went back to pet the possum sitting next to the can of USDA luncheon meat. You just have to wonder what the person in the car behind us thought.

An itty bitty giveaway.

Head on over to my Review blog to see the newest itty bitty giveaway. If money falls from the sky soon I'll throw something else in with the prize.

So I guess I'm sayin', don't hold yer breaths, peoples, but won't you be surprised if it does?