2/7 The Park

As part of my fitness goals for the year, I have decided to take a walk whenever it is above 50 degrees. My temperature requirement comes not from myself but because of the boys. I don't want them to be too cold just for the sake of me wanting to walk.

Well, Thursday was GORGEOUS. It was almost 60 degrees and I was able to walk with just a sweatshirt. We decided to hit the road when we got home from picking up Luke from school.

I made the impromptu decision to walk down to the park. I saw down because it's pretty much a huge hill down to the park. It's 1 mile away (I checked later with my car), which wouldn't be too bad except for the hill.

Let me tell you, walking down a hill while holding a dog and about 75 lbs of stroller is not easy. It was all I could do to keep the stroller from getting away from me on the steepest parts.

I should have paid more attention. But the stroller was too wide to see.

The bump.

A part of the sidewalk had sunk and left a several inch straight up cliff between it and the next piece of sidewalk.

I hit that cliff going fast because it was downhill.

My strollers wheels were too small. They stopped.

But the rest of us kept going! All of the sudden I was flying over the handlebars as the stroller pitched forward, almost going upside down. I fell to the side and hit the ground next to Nathan.

Layla was confused. A car traveling alongside me on the road paused perhaps a little bit longer at the stop sign and then kept going when it saw me starting to stir. 

I pulled myself up and struggled to upright the stroller. I pulled back the canopy and two sets of eyes looked at me. Not a peep. Luke had his hand on the ground, bracing himself. Nathan was just sitting there, and I'm thankful that we still had him in the shoulder straps or else he would have probably fallen out.

I got them upright. No one was worse for wear. My pride might have been a little hurt.

So we continued to the park. Where Luke climbed the crazy ladder thing like a big boy and Nathan loved the swing.

And then we walked home. Slowly. My shoulders hurt for days, and I had a big bruise on my elbow. But what an adventure!

Leggings-as-pants #5,043

I was on campus the other day with Luke in the stroller (when I'm in campus with Luke I look like a walking safe sex PSA -- and the undergrads, you can see them thinking about it). I walked past the bus stop and saw a young woman.

Wearing leggings-as-pants (new people -- I have a crusade against leggings a pants).

And her leggings-as-pants were so tight and sheer that you could see her SPARKLY underwear right through them.

She was sparkling right through the butt of her leggings.

The family band howls at midnight

Tonight, we broke out Dad's birthday present—Beatles Rock Band.

Now, Dad's birthday is in September, but because of his crazy schedule, he hasn't really been home long enough to make the trip to the basement to play the game. So tonight, after filling up on our traditional Thanksgiving lunch of White Castles (seriously) and a traditional dinner of all the fixings at my Me-Ma and Pe-Pa's house, the five of us headed to the basement. (Donnie and Stephen, being military, are away from us this Thanksgiving, boo hiss!)

We played and played. Dad loved it.

Then, as we were really hitting our groove (Dad was singing), Jennie started—quietly, stealthily—to howl.

The music was so loud that we didn't hear her at first.

But Layla did.

Did you know that Layla, being pack animal, and the cousin of the wolf, howls when her people howl to her? (I suppose it's embarrassing that we figured it out. But it's great fun to get her howling. When I was a little kid and didn't yet have a dog but wanted one so bad, I used to sit out in our tree house and bark and howl. The dogs in the neighborhood would answer me, and I thought that was so cool.)

Anyway.

We're singing and playing our hearts out.

And Layla started howling.

Background vocals from the dog!

And we started laughing.

And laughing.

I had tears coming down my cheeks.

We could barely see the screen, but valiantly, the show went on!

We finished the song in fine fashion, still laughing and wiping our eyes.

Layla wagged her tail, and Jennie giggled.

(I hope you all had wonderful Thanksgivings!)

So a scared dog walks into a car...

In September of 2008, we experienced a hurricane.

I know that sounds odd, since we live in Indiana.

But when Hurricane Ike ripped through Texas, it sent storms and wind all the way up through Indiana and Kentucky.

That weekend, we were home at my parents' house in Kentucky. We had to drive back to Indiana through the Hurricane.

Debris scattered the roads. We passed many places where there was no electricity.

But the worst of it for us happened about 20 minutes away from home.

On the interstate, the wind whipped part of my weatherstripping off the top of my car. As we drove, it flung down on the roof of the car with load and repeating BANGS. We stopped as soon as we could, at a gas station that looked like it was the only place around with power. We bought electrical tape and borrowed a pair of scissors and taped the weatherstripping back to the top of my car. The electrical tape is there to this day.

The damage was done, though.

Oh, no, not damage to my car.

Damage to Layla.

The weatherstripping was too loud, the wind was too loud, the drive was slow and tense because of the debris.

Our dog that normally slept the whole way home has been nervous in the car since then.

Panting. And more recently, trying to dig in the seat to get underneath something. Getting off the seat to it on the floor of the backseat.

We finally decided we needed to do something.

My cousin, our vet, suggested we get her a crate for the car so she can feel enclosed and safer.

We went to look at crates.

They are $80. So we decided to try something else.

Hence, the trial of the dog seat belt.

The dog seat belt is a harness that you put on your animal. The harness has a loop on it, and the seat belt to the car goes through the loop and clicks in, leaving the dog seat belted into the car.

On the box, the large dog sits patiently. Almost like a human, a big smile on his face.

Stop and consider this for a minute. We were going to attempt to put a seat belt on our dog. Because dogs just seem like they would like something like that. On our dog. I shake my head at our foolishness.

We slipped the harness on Layla in the parking lot of the pet store. We wanted to try the contraption out on our short drive in town before we take her out of town. Surely she would like not slipping around when the car makes turns and stops.

Not so!

Layla. Hated. The. Seat Belt.

First she wriggled right out of the harness. And looked at us with a smile. We put it on tighter and buckled her in. Hal even sat in the back with her.

More panting and general dog stress and anxiety.

So Hal found and purchased a $20 soft carrier that folds up and has loops so the seat belts can buckle the carrier into the car.

Layla did not like the idea of the carrier at first. It looked suspiciously like a crate. We don't use a crate here anymore, and while she always liked her crate and will go into it with no problems, I don't think she wanted to show too much enthusiasm.

So I crawled in the crate.

(I didn't fit.) This became apparent when I tried to crawl OUT of the crate and got my butt stuck. I had to wriggle out like a demented snake.)

My silly crate tricks did the job and she doesn't mind it.

But the big test will be tomorrow.

Safe Crate vs. Dangerous Car.

I can't wait to see who comes out on top

Typing

Lots of drama going on at school right now, but I'm not going to write about it here. Suffice to say, everyone (me included) has bad attitudes right now.

On happier notes, I am most addicted to a computer game. What kind of game, you may ask. Well, it's not anything cool like Myst or World of Warcraft or even Return to Zork (although I was highly addicted to Zork back in the day). It's not even Bejewelled or Farmville or Mafia Wars.

It's a facebook game called Typing Maniac.

What does it say about me that I am addicted to a game that scores you on how quickly and accurately you type?

I'm pretty sure it says "Major Dork."

I guess I'm used to this title by now. I can't help but play it. I'm currently the leader out of my friends, although I assume that's because they are all normal and got tired of it before they cared enough to get good at it.

And I should be good at it. I've typed since I was a young kid. I remember typing a 99-page story on the computer in 7th or 8th grade (not in one sitting, of course). I wish I still had it. I'm sure it was horrible. I worked and worked to learn how to type. We had computer class in grade school with Mavis Beakon, well, the class was with another teacher, but Mavis Beakon was the computer program typing instructor. My gut tells me that I loathed Mavis, but I cannot recall why. In high school, we had and entire year of typing when we were sophomores, and the first semester was ON A TYPEWRITER. Please, a typewriter? I'm happy to report that the students at my school now have one semester of typing, and it's in a computer lab. Not to mention the hours and hours I spent typing as a reporter, journalism major, and creative writing major. And now I'm in grad school, home of the gabillion-page paper.

Typing is my blood, man.

(I'm sounding more dorky by the minute.)

So anyway, I'm addicted to Typing Maniac. I play it often. It is a great way to relieve stress, which is very important right now (you see that? I brought it back around to school drama. I am so good!).

What games are you addicted to?

M-W

If you are in ever a need to know the meaning of a word, you go to a dictionary. These interesting books also help you with spelling, part of speech, and sometimes even origin.

Oftentimes the book will give the phonetic pronunciation of the word, in squiggles and lines and backwards e's that no one understands.

The internets have changed the dictionary forever.

On M-W.com, Merriam-Webster, those divine dictionary divas, have banded their forces of good together to create a world wide web of word wonder. The info is all there -- the definition, the spelling, the phonetic pronunciation, the word type.

But yes, oh yes, there is something much grander.

M-W will PRONOUNCE THE WORD FOR YOU.

*crickets*

OK, perhaps that's not very exciting on its face. But think of the possibilities.

This site may or may not include "bad" words. Curse words! Things that would get you detention!

I may or may not have played some of those "bad" words in my day. I, along with others, may or may not have played them really late at night at the college newspaper. There may or may not have been loud speakers involved.

"What, Emily? You don't like the entertainment page? My computer has something to say to you--"

Computer: Mother$*@!#^

It's also possible that we constructed our own phrases by playing two computers off each other. A favorite word of some of my friends was, ahem, "Ass clown." (Pardon me, I'm quoting.) It is possible that two computers side by side could mimic the saying of this particular compound word by having one computer say, well, "Ass," and the other one saying "Clown," making up for the fact that the particular combination of the two was not in the dictionary (not that I would know).

We laughed and laughed. Well, you know, we may or may not have laughed and laughed at these things.

(Let's be honest, I may or may not have looked at the site and played some of the words while writing this blog. And still laughed and laughed. It's possible I'm 12.)

Of course this all would have happened after deadline really late at night. If it happened at all. And I'm not saying it did. But if it did happen, it was pretty freaking funny -- or, well, would have been pretty freaking funny. If it happened. Which it may or may not have.

I'm going to get retroactively fired from the paper. Sigh.

Wild and Wacky Wednesday

You know I still have mushy brain that I am so discombobulated that I ....

GO TO CLASS AND LEAVE THE BACK DOOR WIDE OPEN!

Hal got home from work before I got home from my late afternoon class. The dog was anxious. The door was wide open. Layla couldn't handle that level of freedom, apparently.

Luckily, there were no robbers or squatters in the house.

Judy

Almost every night on the cruise, we went to the piano bar.

There were several regulars (besides us) at the piano bar. None were more memorable than Judy.

See Judy (the one in the glasses):



Nights found Judy by herself in the piano bar, smoking like a chimney and swigging down a variety of cocktails. Sometimes we were worried about her ability to stay on the bar stool, although she never fell off. She and my cousin Laura bonded immensely; Judy called Laura "Kentucky." Judy happened to have a lovely voice and accompanied our piano man on several songs during the week. She was a nice lady, even though we always talked with her when she was a little bleary.

We had fond memories of Judy.

And then, a month or so after the cruise, I got a frantic phone call from my cousin Kayla. Kayla was beside herself trying to get ahold of anyone in our family, and of course, we were all away from our phones. Judy had been spotted again!

On TV.

Reality TV, to be exact.

Tonight I got to see the whole show (I had previously had seen the Judy clips).

Judy stars on "World's Strictest Parents."

As you might imagine, she's not a one of the strict parents. In the show, she sends her son to live with the world's strictest parents so she can help him understand that "marijuana will ruin his life." Judy is pretty adorable on the show. She is kind and sympathetic and really cares about her son.

I never thought I would be in the presence of such stardom.

Who knows the people you'll meet at random cruise bars?

Naked Boys Singing

*

Naked Boys Singing
The best play I never saw
But this guy: Priceless

(Among the things we were going to do in NYC was finding the Naked Cowboy. We never found the Naked Cowboy. However. Before we went, we heard about a little play called Naked Boys Singing. We tried and we tried to convince my mom to see it with us. She REFUSED! We did, though, find this lovely guy in Times Square, where he stood promoting the show. He probably thought we were nuts because we were entirely too excited to meet him and take our picture with him.)

For more Bad Haiku Friday, check out Laura's page, with a compilation of others playing along.

Harvard (Hahvahd)

When my mom, sister, and I were in Boston and New York, we visited Harvard. We had taken the on and off trolley with my school friend Jessica, and we were ambling around the campus of the perhaps best-known ivy league school.

Of course, we were lost.

We stood on the street corner, map in hand. Our map was in a tourist book. I had control of the map, and was working to orient myself to the map and my surroundings.

To do so, I turned the map (and the book) upside down.

A couple of seconds or so later, a lovely young woman stopped jogging, took her ipod headphones out of her ears, and she approached us with a smile.

"Can I help you find something?" she asked politely. "I go here."

She was very nice and pointed us in the direction we wanted to go.

After she jogged away, a smile on her face (those ivy league-ers can SMILE while they JOG), I remembered that I had the book upside down.

"She didn't think I could read!" I wailed. "The book was upside down! That's why she stopped!

"She thought to herself, 'Those girls must go to a STATE school!'"

Time Traveler's Wardrobe -- 1995-1996 -- Part 1

There's something I haven't felt quite right about.

You see, sometimes I'm hard on people for the clothes they wear. We all know that the fight against leggings-as-pants is a good fight, and I stand by that fight. But sometimes, sometimes I think about my own wardrobe. And, whilst a leggings-as-pant (legging-as-pants?) is nary to be found, there are probably some other horrible fashion items.

"So easy, little blogger, to criticize us while you remain invisible," those wearing leggings-as-pants might say. "And you're probably ugly and fat." (Because we all know that when a woman gets hate mail, it mentions her looks and/or her size.)

So I decided to venture back, long long ago, to a magical time. Some people called it "The Nineties." My friends, the years we will visit spanned 1995-1996. Your faithful blogger was 13 and in the 8th grade. Do notice, however, that I haven't asked anyone's permission to take this wonderful journey -- so I have tried to crop and black out faces of others to protect them from themselves. I tell this to you only so you don't fear that some of my friends and classmates have a horrible "black box" disease.

Surely we will find some horrible clothing in this beautiful time. A time called adolescence. Let's start at the end of the year, shall we? Graduation.

Oh, 8th grade graduation is a glorious time!



Girl, it's pink and has buttons. How can we go wrong?!

Oh yes. Oh yes. I see the problem.

This whole photograph was recently posted on my friend Courtney's facebook page. I have kindly cropped Courtney out of the photo. One of the comments reads: "Stace, you really should bring back the shoulder pads. Totally hot. It really does scream 'I am a woman going places!!' Of course, that place was high school. But still..."

So, ok, obvious shoulder pads. Sleeves when most girls went sleeveless. But still -- this dress isn't too bad. Appropriate for a church graduation (we even had to put an extra button where the neck plunged lower than it should have). Authoritative. I had white stockings on. I was a 13-year-old business woman. I am not embarrassed by this dress. I don't think I look half bad! Point one for me over the girls in leggings-as-pants. I wasn't even old enough to know better (you, ladies in your leggings-as-pants, are old enough to know better).

Exhibit 2: The Final Dance

Oh Lord, what angst! The FINAL dance of our middle school lives!



Forget the fact that I look WRETCHED in this picture. (And that Jennifer has black box disease.) I am sure I was telling the picture taker something about my film camera. Yes, kids, FILM. Can you imagine? I would go to a dance and only be able to take 24 pictures. And then I would have to get them DEVELOPED. Which could take DAYS.

But the outfit! The outfit.

This shirt is SASSY. This is the sassiest shirt I owned. It had a bajillion of tiny buttons down the front. But you didn't button the buttons! You just put the shirt on over your head. How awesome. But look at that plunge, people. J.Lo got it from ME.

I can imagine that my mom breathed a sigh of relief when I started wearing this shirt around. I looked almost normal! You'll see what she had to deal with here, soon.

I will note that this picture was a photo of everyone I ate lunch with. We had the best lunch table. Some of the BOYS even sat with us. We were rockin.

Exhibit 3: Camp Joy -- 8th Grade Trip


Some schools did cool things like go to Washington DC or Space Camp for class trips. We went to camp. In the snow. And, actually, it was a blast.

I have two pictures from this lovely trip. The one above is a wardrobe disaster of epic proportions. Hot pink and black warm-up pants. A white sweatshirt with a, get this, MAROON logo. And a Charlotte Hornets sock hat, which was purple and teal (the Hornets were the thing back then, by the way. And, no, I didn't live in North Carolina. Why do you ask?).

In my defense of this outfit, we were camping and I was currently pushing someone's butt through a tire. You can't dress up for that. We were team building or something. It was an obstacle course. It was freezing. We were dressed in layers to keep us warm.


Unfortunately, I'm on a bus here. I don't have a need to keep warm. I apparently have a need to wear a backward baseball cap (and, don't worry, it's ALSO a Hornets hat. I think I once stole it from one of the boys and never gave it back. Go me!). The sweatshirt I am wearing is awesome. I think it was my mom's when she was playing volleyball in college. It has a V-neck and a COLLAR. It also has an arm band detail on one arm. I wore the heck out of that thing. I have no excuses for wearing this style in 1996. I probably wore it longer than that. I will tell you that I look about 100 x better than Jennifer does next to me. But I'm nice and I cropped her out (she was incredibly tired).

So far, so good, right? I mean, can camping clothes really count? I imagine they probably do, and if so, I failed that test. However, I still maintain that so far, I'm not doing too bad.

Exhibit 4: Where things start to go, perhaps, downhill

At first, this is an innocuous picture. I am wearing a white shirt. I actually look relatively trim, for me. But what lurks under the surface may frighten. I have taken the liberty to pointing it out.



Do you see it? Tied around my waist was my FAVORITE FLANNEL EVER. EVER. And, frankly, it's frightening that I had enough flannel shirts to have a favorite one. Kurt Cobain died in 1994, but his legacy lived on in Catholic school girls in northern Kentucky.

This picture was taken at a dance, and I will have to find another picture. With the flannel ON. Also, I am wearing what looks to be a simple necklace in this picture. However, it's not my necklace. I stole it from a 7th grade boy. My necklace, if I recall correctly, was huge and from Chuck E. Cheese. I may also have been wearing a beret. It's a decent into madness, I tell you.

Because that's where this all gets interesting. In the flannels. And crazy hats. And stage make up and bell bottoms (oh, the 8th grade play). A boy I "dated" and I had virtually the same haircut at one point in time. 1995-1996 was a tumultuous year for me in terms of fashion. This post only eases into the mayhem. I will have to hunt for more pictures (these were relatively handy, in a box on top of the boxes) and get back with the true representation of moment in flannel.

So, see, ladies in leggings? I am no longer the invisible criticizer. I am bearing to the world my fashion mistakes. I am rising to the challenge of proving that while I do not live a life without fashion disaster, I have overcome. For example, I do not currently wear flannel. Well, to be honest, my pajama pants that I'm currently wearing have a flannel plaid pattern. BUT! I can recognize the bad. That means, dear leggings-as-pants wearers, I can recognize the bad on you.

I know this post only gives you readers a fever with the only cure being more flannel. And I will deliver. Oh yes, I will deliver.

Ode to a Pillow

It was embarrassing, but it had to be done.

When we moved, we bought a king-sized bed. Hal picked up some king-sized pillows for us a couple of weeks ago.

After several weeks of tossing and turning and punching the pillow and aching necks, we gave up. We had to find some different pillows.

Tonight, we went out on a quest for new pillows.

Now, I've always had a problem with buying pillows. It always seems like the pillow doesn't work until I break it in. I've also never understood how you are supposed to know what pillow is going to be good for you by just feeling it in a store.

Hal agreed -- and came up with a solution.

It was embarrassing, but it had to be done.

We tried out the pillows. On the floor. Of Target.

I don't even want to think about how dirty those floors were. At one point in time, Hal had picked his pillow, and I, after dragging my feet in the whole "experience the essence of the pillow" process, had three pillows lined up on the floor. I tried each of them. I tried them while lying on my back and my stomach and my side. I got over the embarrassment.

And I picked a pillow.

A pillow that does not form a "V" when I lay on my back, blinding my peripheral vision and making me feel like a dog in a cone.

A pillow that isn't so huge that I sleepily try to burrow into it at night.

A pillow that hopefully won't leave me with a slightly stiff neck in the morning.

What happened to the other pillows? They've been made into the sham pillows, the decorative ones we throw off the bed. Our bed is going to look so FANCY with all these pillows.

I will give a full report on the new pillow, which is, according to the label, "Firm." I hope the embarrassment is worth it.

Ugh.

Yesterday in class I was giving a mini-presentation about a book I was assigned to read. I was supposed to be saying "scientific psychology" but I kept saying "scientology."

I would not have realized it except one of my classmates kindly stopped me to say, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Scientology?" Then everyone burst out laughing. Including me. What a fail.

Silly sister

Hal, my sister, and I went to dinner on Friday night. On the way home, "The Climb" by Miley Cyrus came on the radio.

My sister BELTED out the chorus, singing very loudly and theatrically. (Which is not to say well.)

When the chorus was over, we hear from the back seat, as if we in the front seat were awestruck by her talent: "You're welcome."

People are Strange

Just a few things I saw on my trip that I thought were a little funny (I'm sure there were more, and I will update with anything that comes to mind):

1. Man in NYC airport has on a surgical mask (I'm assuming to protect him from swine flu). No biggie, there were several people wearing these things. However, as he walks through the airport, he stops, takes off his mask, and TAKES A DRINK OUT OF THE PUBLIC WATER FOUNTAIN. You've got to be kidding me.

2. While on the train to Venice, a family group from Miami (we know they were from Miami because they talked very loudly and I heard them say so) got on the train. They had the Biggest. Luggage. Ever. The train only had the capacity for carry on-sized luggage in the overhead compartments. The family proceeded to spend the next half hour trying to find places for all of their huge pieces of luggage (which most often meant taking up seats), while one of the older women in the group kept saying things (loudly) like, "You pay too much for a ticket for this to happen." Then, once settled down, the young men in the group were talking (loudly) and using a variety of expletives. Classiness all around.

3. Person trying to take pictures at night had a HUGE tripod and a little tiny point and shoot digital. I understand that those cameras can take pretty good pictures, but a tripod? I didn't have a tripod for my DSLR.

4. Pub crawl member (with a pub crawl shirt on) passes out in Venice train station. The rest of the group leaves him there. Poor kid.

Mistaken identity

I have forgotten to include this story until now. It came up again this past weekend!

In January, my mom's side of the family went to an Italian restaurant to celebrate my cousins' birthdays. My parents piled seven of us in their minivan up to the restaurant. While in the car, we somehow got onto the topic of eating breakfast or rushing in the morning or something. My aunt Kim and I had the following exchange:

Kim: Walt [her husband] drinks his coffee in the shower.

What I heard: Walt's dad has his coffee in the shower.

Me: How do you know that?

Kim: Because I've seen him!

Me (very confused now): You've seen him? How have you seen him?

Kim (now also confused): Because I've had to do something in the bathroom when he's in the shower and I go in there.

Me: You'll use the bathroom when Walt's dad is in the shower?

Kim: WHAT?!!!!

Laughter ensues.

This weekend, we went to watch Kim's daughter, my cousin Kaysie, play soccer in Indy. Kaysie is on a U-17 select team. Imagine mine and Hal's surprise when we went to dinner with the team and the parents, and the server asked us WHICH GIRL WAS OUR DAUGHTER so she could get our order. I look pretty good for having a baby at NINE, don't you think?!

Trivial Pursuit

Tonight my parents, Hal, Jennie and Peter, and I sat down to play Trivial Pursuit.

This doesn't happen often. In fact, the box was covered in a layer of dust we could trace smiley faces in.

Hal and I went first. I then had to ask a question for mom and dad.

I looked at the card and couldn't believe my eyes.

"I'm just reading what the card says," I say, and begin laughing.

I read the card.

"What roll in craps is called the Big Dick?" the card says.*

Everyone starts cracking up.

Later on the question turns to my sister. "What is the nickname of Kentucky?"

She screams, "Wildcats!"

Which is, of course, the wrong answer. We all started banging on the table, cracking up. Peter, her partner, was infuriated. She took back her answer and said, "The Bluegrass State!" which worked better for everyone.

In the end, my parents won, and we all had a great time.

*The answer is 10.

Overheard at Christmas

Jenn at Juggling Life recounts funny overheard statements, made usually by her family, every week. The past two days have been full of some good ones for us.
__________________

Christmas Eve finds us opening presents one by one by age, youngest to oldest. My family all raised a glass during the space before my present, which is usually filled by my brother Donnie who is not able to be with us this Christmas because he is serving in the Army in Iraq.

The family: To Donnie!

___________________

Tonight, discussing the funny things we (my cousins and I) did as children:

Mom (to Jennie, who was sitting next to her boyfriend): You didn't like to be naked. I hope that hasn't changed.

___________________

The clue on the Catchphrase machine was for "Test Tube Babies."

Aunt Lisa: The little things that come from between your legs!

Everyone: WHAT?!

Aunt Lisa: Oh, like what you do when you get married!

Everyone: [Laughter for the next five minutes]

____________________

My father was imitating my sister when she was little.

Dad: "My bucket huwts. I have dia-wee-a."

____________________

My Uncle John likes to teach my cousins by calling their boyfriends and girlfriends by the wrong names. My cousin Jacob's girlfriend's name is Sarah. His grandmother's name is Shirley. (Walt is Jacob's dad.)

John: I'm glad Shirley isn't here tonight.

Dad: That's not very nice to say about Walt's Mom.

____________________

Mom made drinks called a Woo-Hoo (also referred to as a Ho Ho in honor of the season) to give to the adults. My aunt Tami entered the room.

Mom: Tami, do you want a Woo-Hoo?

Tami: I thought I already had one.

____________________

A Day in the Life (Saturday, December 6)

My sister and my cousin came down to IU for my sister's volleyball tournament. This was incredibly exciting.



Kayla and I get a little breakfast. Jennie had already gone to play her first game. (Kayla dyed my hair the night before!)

After breakfast, Kayla, Hal, and I got to watch a lot of this:



It's a little early for me still.


Jennie is gross. She and Kayla are roommates!


The three of us smile pretty for a picture.


After more of this, we require Jennie to come to lunch with us. We needed to get out of the gym!


Jennie and Kayla rejoice in finding IU's famous Sample Gates.


It took several tries to get this one.


Kayla tries to take a picture of Hal and I for our Christmas card. It is epic fail, everything in this picture is in focus BUT us.



This one could be cute -- but what's going on with my hair?!



Hal has fake smile.



Cute. And fuzzy.



Kayla is confused at the Noodle place.



Distrustful of the table number. (We're apparently 10 years old this weekend, by the way.)


Sisters!


Mac and Cheese


Then more, much more, of this.



For hours.



Until we finally get to go to dinner. First time for Jennie and Kayla to have Turkish food! They liked it.



And then a trip to the grocery store results in a Santa sighting.

After this, we all went to bed. :)

Ornament

I squinted my eyes, puzzled, at the line gold ornaments in the Target Christmas aisle. There hung an ornament of gold block letters.

That can't possibly be right. Surely not. Why in the world?

Who buys an ornament that says whore?

And who buys an ornament that spells whore incorrectly? It says HORE! What does that even mean?

I scooted a little closer, turning my head to the side to see if my eyes were deceiving me. My eyes that the eye doctor declared unchanged in prescription when I had my check up this week.

Oh dear.

The ornament says HOPE.