On a Snowy Day

Dough is rising, chicken is marinading, black beans are cooking, and my mouth is already watering for some CPK pizzas tonight.
The fire is keeping our house at a comfortable 72*, even though the wind chill temp outside is 1*.
All 3 children that were pretty crabby an hour ago are now napping.
I have a batch of citrus blueberry muffins (from scratch thankyouverymutch) in the oven that will be ready to glaze in 9 minutes.
Aaron is working from home.

I'd be selfish to ask for anything more out of this perfect day.

Sugar Coated

The world beyond our doors looks delicious, today.
A sugary, white frosting fell during the night and continues to drift down from the sky and stick to every iced surface as little flakes of coconut dusted atop a cake.


Even my deserted garden beds appear mouth watering again, since everything looks like one big frosted doughnut.

Reese was just delighted when she woke up to the surprise, this morning.
If only school had been canceled so she could stay home with us.

Winter has offically begun.
Those who are not fans of Winter say, "Aye".
Aye, Aye, Aye. (<----all three of those are from me.)

I kind of hate snow, but I've been trying to see the silver lining in it, and every year the snow grows on me a little more. Today, the silver lining was easily found when I felt how tickled my daughters were by the sight of the first snow. They've longed for months for the snow to return and stick on the ground. And just like they do when a cake is taking an hour to bake or when we're on a long road trip, they've been ringing my ears since October with,

"Is it time?

"Is the snow coming, yet?"
"When will it snow?"

"When will it be time?"
"Is it time?"
"Is it ready?"
"Are we there yet?", "Are we there yet?", "Are we there yet?"

...
...
...


"How about now?"

I awoke to the wake of destruction caused by my sick day. Aaron did a swell job caring for me and for the children, and even purchased a new vacuum and sucked what looks like an assorment of woodland critters from our living room carpet, and I am very grateful for his service. But it's a reality that the aftermath of any Mom getting sick is always a category 5.

It appears that while I was "snowed" with meds, my home was frosted.
With a mess! A HUGE mess. A Monday House x 10

Toys, clothes, dishes, everything, everywhere, on top of everything. Covered in a layer of everything. Smelling of diaper and fringed with kleenex.

So it would be easy to wake up irritated with the disaster.

But, thanks to the absolute joy brought to my children by the fluffy confections falling outside, my walls are bursting with optimism that today is going to be wonderful.

I think we've all got a sugar high.

And if I've got a frosted mess that is sprinkled with these faces, well then...

looks like that cake is finally ready. Yum.

The world beyond our doors looks delicious, today.

hahahahaha

My running friends will appreciate this.

And for all of the girls that looked at me like I was insane when I tried to talk them into joining our winter late-night running group when it was 15 degrees outside, you'll really appreciate this one.

And for my pals in California that were whining about missing their saturday run last week because of "all the rain", all I have to say is, "wah waaaah". You get to run in shorts like 11 months out of the year, ok? I need my "special head lamp, running gloves, cute hat, base layer shirt, running socks, and reflective jacket" (no compression pants... yet).

Laughers be warned. Come out with us once and you'll catch the fevah!

Sick Day

I have the flu.
My husband rocks.
I just left my bedroom for the first time in like, 10 hours, and wow. My house looks like a bomb went off in it.
I'm grateful for a best friend who reminds me with her good attitude to look for the positive spin on lousy days. I may have the flu, but I have the flu on a Saturday, and that means I just spent 10 hours in my bed!

I took a "sick day".

Dear Moms,
When is the last time you were able to take an actual sick day? I've been racking my brain and since I had children, I honestly don't think I have ever taken a full blown, real life, actual sick day. But that's what I had today. Aaron took care of the children all day, and periodically took my temperature, then brought me meds, kleenex, and fluids. I "called in sick", checked out of reality, holed up in my bedroom for 10 hours and "took the day off". It's like being a guy. I have no idea why men are such babies when they get sick. I had a fever of 105* last night and I feel like absolute garbage, but today was pretty freaking awesome. Bedside service, unlimited napping, and no responsibility? Hellz yes.

I'm on a lot of medication right now and probably shouldn't be allowed near the computer.
Props to Aaron for rockin' the Super Dad cape today.

Fashion Show! Fashion Show! Fashion Show at lunch!

After nearly 10 years of marriage, I have come to the conclusion that I am not the one and only love of my husband's life.

That's right. Aaron has a relationship on the side:

with his t-shirts.

These aren't just any t-shirts.

T-shirts to Aaron are like cats to lonely old ladies.

Yeah. He takes in all the strays and freebies, and even if they aren't a good match with his current family of shirts, he adopts them anyway, because he is too emotionally attached to get rid of them.

To "help" Aaron with his t-shirt hoarding, I took the 20 or so shirts that hadn't been worn in several years, and put them in a storage basket in the top of our closet.

Recently, Aaron had a panic and went searching for them. Oh the excitement on his face when he rescued them from hibernation. He sentimentally went through the stack, giving each abandoned cat some much needed love and affection as he tried them all on.

Let's meet the Felidae:

First up, The Billabong Shirt. This baby was part of Aaron's regulart t-shirt rotation when we were dating. I remember thinking, "I am 18. He is 24. 24 is kind of old. Definitely too old to be sporting Billabong."

That was 11 years ago. He still wears the shirt, occasionally.

Next, Quicksilver. Also from the 10-15 yrs old collection. This was actually a nice shirt in it's prime.

Back when it was light blue. Excessive washing and wearing has faded it to an unsightly seafoam white. the collar and sleeves are threadbare.

we had to take a break for a sniff-test.

The Souvenier Maui shirt was brought back by my parents, from Hawaii, for Aaron in 2001. There is a big tear across the chest caused by some branches he was clearing out of the backyard. It also got chainsaw oil spilled on it (which is what put it into retirement)...I think that's what he was sniffing for.

And now, a video clip to demonstrate just how much he loves his t shirts:

Do you see how excited he is to "introduce" you to his cats t-shirts?

Following the Sleeveless Fresno State shirt, he modeled the 1994 Santa Clarita Stake Basketball Champs T-shirt. This shirt has become less of a threat, because when it hit 20 years old it was given "heirloom status", so the risk of him wearing it out in public is minimal.

The Enormous Green Bay Packer's Shirt also got pushed out of my concern, because we're in Razorback country, now, and no one cares about the NFL.

When we were engaged, we painted our ghetto kitchen table a crackled red. It was pretty rad. Unfortunately, Aaron's BYU Intramural Basketball Champion shirt was splattered with red paint. He still keeps it, but is bitter about not being able to trophy it around on his person anymore.

There are easily 40 more shirts. Just as dirty. Just as faded. Just as old. Just as holey. And just as loved by my husband as the other shirts. Monogamy is too cruel a rule for this guy.

Until Christmas.

Aaron gave me one present that was better than all of his other gifts to me, combined. A gift that changed everything. A gift that tells me how much he truly loves me.

First, a little back story for those of you who didn't watch Big Brother last Summer are respectable human beings. Let me fill you in, the last house guest to be kicked out of the Big Brother house was Enzo, the insurance adjuster from Jersey (WOW am I really typing this? Yes. Yes I am. Confession: We totally watched Big Brother last Summer. Moving on...) Enzo got "the shun" by Big Brother and was forced to hand over his clothes, and wear a Penguin Suit for a week. (Still with me? Ok.) At the end of the week, the houseguests gathered around for a ceremonial "shunning" of the Penguin Costume.
They "Shunned the Shun".

And because Aaron is Aaron, he would randomly shout, "shun the shun!" for weeks after the episode, when anyone in our house would complain about not liking something, particularly.

And because Quincy is Aaron's kid, she picked up on it, and still says "Shun the shun" for no reason at all.

Ok, back on track here.....
Aaron gave me one truly FABULOUS Christmas gift. A gift that supercedes all over Christmas Gifts ever given.

A Shirt Shunning.

Forget Penguin costumes, I get to select a shirt to shun, and it's utter destruction will ceremoniously be documented in an upcoming post.

My selection?
The Alpha Male of fugly t shirts.
The Big Don Dada.

It's only appropriate that we begin with the 15 year old Sacrificial Belizean Nakie Guy Shirt.

How should we go about handling the 2011 Shirt Shun?

Will it be cut into a fazillion pieces?

Burned by fire?

Eaten by cats?

Rescued by Hoarder Henry?

Hanging? Stoning? (not with My Love wearing it, of course)

What will be the fate of Mr. Tied Up Fugly Shirt?

I think we need a contest.

Let's hear your best suggestions for t-shirt destruction.

Winner gets a Championship Ring, bragging rights for removing something unsightly from the earth, and of course, a Free t-shirt.

Contest closes at mignight on Thursday, January 13th.

Leave a comment. Enter now!

The Purple Pinkie

My Pinkie is Purple.

What?
Why?
That is weird.

In many countries, when children are given the Polio Vaccine, their pinkie nail is stamped with purple dye.

Did you know that the polio vaccine is live and must remain cold, or it will spoil?

The effort involved in manufacturing, transporting, and administering the Polio vaccine to the ends of the earth so it can be available to everyone, is pretty beautiful (Don't worry, this video is a happy success story, not a sad one about the horrors of Polio)



Incredible, right?

After 25 years of organizing and hosting national immunization days and administering BILLIONS of vaccines worldwide, efforts are finally paying off.

Polio has been 99% eradicated!

That is something to celebrate.

But what about the one percent?
Really. ONE percent is keeping a disease from being totally stamped out, forever.

The problem is that one percent can turn back into two percent, then grow to 3 percent, then five percent, then ten percent. And then we've got a problem.
But right now, it's only one percent. We are so close to never having to worry about Polio again!

Immunity works as a blanket protection and I can't have holes in the blanket around my children.
I refuse to contribute to the 1% keeping Polio alive, so I've painted my pinkie purple, and I am spreading awareness by telling everyone I know that vaccines are safe.

They are safe. You know that, right? If you don't know that...please, call me. Let's talk.

I'm keeping my pinkie purple until the official Purple Pinkie Day on February 23, which is when I hope you'll bust out the nail polish, and join me in the fight to raise awareness for vaccines, and stamp out Polio forever.

Sometimes, buried treasure should just stay buried.

Tonight is our Relief Society meeting for home, family, and personal enrichment.

The theme is "buried treasure" and everyone is supposed to bring 5 things that represent our hidden talents.

At first, I was like, I LOVE this idea! It is always fun to learn new things about people you know really well, and it's a good opportunity to get to know some new girls that I don't get to talk to very often.

But hidden talents? I'm not really one to keep many things secret about myself, so this was a bit of a challenge. What are my hidden talents???

Um let's see...

1) being a lazy schlub (<---did you catch that, Angie?). I haven't washed my hair since Sunday. Sunday! And no, this isn't one of those blogs that I typed up 3 days ago and scheduled to post today. It's Thursday. So, I pretty much rock at being gross. It's the whole "don't wanna work out cuz then I have to get off my butt and go change into workout clothes" thing...but backwards. Don't wanna get dressed, cuz then I won't wanna go run with my night group after enrichment, tonight. Hidden talent? Maybe. Are my friends reading this? I'll be the one that shows up to enrichment tonight dressed like Sue Sylvester.

Don't sit too close to me. I stink.

2) Freak Magnet. This is a divine gift that I've been blessed with. They come to me in flocks. Old ladies want to tell me about their recent surgeries and difficulty urinating. If only I had one of those giant U shaped magnets to take tonight...I could stick the word "Freak" to it and call it good.

which leads to my next hidden talent:

3) writing about my run ins with the freaks on this here blog. It's good for a laugh, that's a hidden talent, right? The problem is that I'm supposed to bring something tangible that represents my buried treasures. Is there anything LESS tangible than a blog? I think not. Perhaps all of my blogging has been a waste of time...sort of like how you are feeling while reading this post. You'll never get those 5 minutes back. Sorry. There's still time, if you stop now, you can save yourself!

Ha. You're still reading. Who's the freak magnet, now suckahs?

4) The super powered nose. Both a curse and a blessing. Hidden Talent? I can sniff out a chocolate bar a mile away, man. My nose is awesome.

A few weeks ago, I went to my friend, Tia's, and when she opened her front door, I said, "are you cooking rice?"
I was still outside and I could smell rice cooking in her kitchen.
Unfortunately, I can also smell a fart from a mile away. And I am totally aware of how bad I smell right now. (see talent #1)
But you don't have to have a super powered nose to smell that.

5) speaking of farts...(yes, really. I warned you to just stop reading. You didn't listen.)I should just take a bag of beans tonight for my "talent". My friend, Hillary, calls me the "bean whisperer" because of all my bean recipes...at least I THINK it's because of my bean recipes, but the name "bean whisperer" is probably because she's been running with me before, and she didn't have any music to drown out my my sound effects.

There.
Do you feel like you know me better?
What? Too much?

I so don't have any friends left.

So those are my five "buried treasures".
What are yours?