Thomas the Tank Engine Begs for Mercy

Devil...or Angel?

It's Fun to Be One!!

The boys' Luau party was a real hoot. I think I sat down once for about 5 minutes during the entire party, but it seemed like everyone had ball. Several people offered congratulations on my organizational skills because everything seemed to come off without a hitch, but here's the skinny -- the air conditioning was broken from the night before until about 30 minutes before the party. We had to store the babies' cakes in the basement to keep the icing from melting off. ALSO, my dessert bombed and I had to order a last minute cake from Publix the day before the party. The order got lost resulting in the cake having to be hand-delivered about 45 minutes into the party. Sam and Tom turned out to be allergic to food coloring and had to be given Benedryl and put to bed shortly after the cake and presents portion of the proceedings. And my niece's child stripped completely naked and declared she was getting in the pool. But it was such a mad house with kids and grown-ups stacked like cord-wood that apparently no one noticed any of this stuff in the general chaos of the day. A sure sign of a successful party!!

Pictures and Stuff

O.k., so I'm just plain tired, tired, tired. But a lot of stuff has been going on, lately, and I'd love to share. So I think I'm going to cheat and just show a bunch of pictures. Nobody minds that, right?

At the end of August, I threw a baby shower for our best friends in the WORLD, Tamara and Phil. They are having their first child, Sophia Elysse, in December, and I wasn't about to miss out on a chance to throw a party for them. We had a couples shower at Tamara's mom's house in Decatur. We had a crowded house, but the food, beer and wine went the distance, and we all had a great time.

I can't figure out how to caption these !@#$% pictures, so the first one is obviously Tamara and Me. The second is Jason, Me, Tamara and Phil (who REALLY enjoyed the open bar and is pinching the devil out of the mama fat on the back of my arm -- note the fact that I managed to look serene until the shutter clicked -- then I clocked him one). Then comes the truly fabulous cake that I had patterned after the invitation. The only problem is the cake decorator didn't quite pull off the fact that the male figure is supposed to be slightly turned. Instead, it just makes it look like the guy has one leg shorter than the other. We referred to Phil as "The Gimp" for the duration of the party. I also can't figure out how to flip pictures, but I had to show you a full body of Tamara at almost 7 mos. preggers -- She had to wear this t-shirt that says "Pregnant (Not Fat)". Contrast that with the one of me at around 7 months with the trips. I considered a t-shirt that said, "Wide Load" but figured why restate the obvious.

Dust Bunnies and Large Members

Now there's a title that grabs attention if I ever made up one. The two do actually stem from a common theme, believe it or not. For the past week, I've been on strike. I've only scrubbed the toilets that actually had a ring. I've only dust mopped when the dog-hair-balls were literally starting to make me feel sick. And the closest I've come to cooking was defrosting frozen chicken fingers in the microwave.

What have I been doing instead, you ask (and for the sake of argument let's pretend you did)? RESEARCH!! Or at least that's what I'm going to call it. It has come to my attention that romance novel writers can actually make a living writing about love, romance, and (you knew it was just around the corner) LARGE MEMBERS!! So I have dedicated myself to reading a string of novels written very much in the style of Jane Austen -- only with some red-hot love scenes thrown in to appeal to those of us in the 21st century. This particular author's pen name is Julia Quinn, and she's a Harvard Graduate with feminist leanings. It almost makes the whole idea of becoming a romance novelist seem academic -- except for that whole "his throbbing manhood" issue.

Herein lies the problem. I just don't think I'm capable of writing the naughty bits. I blush while I'm reading them, and honestly cannot imagine how much worse it would be to actually write them myself, put my name on the cover and have to tell my mother, "Here's your baby girl's life's work." But the idea of being a published author is appealing. And a published author with a decent paycheck not only ices that cake but throws in a side of ice cream to boot. Still...telling my mother would be like serving it up on a bed of compost.

Oh well, it's all moot anyway. The blank screen facing me before each blog is daunting enough for right now. How on earth are you supposed to keep going for 300 pages? I'm going to have to start doing more interesting things just so I'll have stuff to talk about. For right now, all you have to look forward to are 1st birthday parties and our first school picture day -- both of which are happening next week. I'm really excited about it, and can't wait to share details once it's all over. I guess someone else will have to handle the naughty bits for at least a little while longer. I think I'll stay G-rated for the time being. It's less embarrassing for me AND my mother.

Transformers, Scuba Divers and Fish

Upon noticing light leaking from underneath Jack's door, I entered his room to find him trying to place a three foot dragon into a 12 inch baby carriage. Wordlessly, I pointed toward his bed. "I'm just playing," he said. "I know," I replied, "but remember how tired you were yesterday and how many times you got put in time out? You didn't even get to visit very much with Aunt Tamara and Uncle Phil because you were in trouble most of the day. If you go to bed and get lots of sleep, then you'll feel good tomorrow and can play and have fun instead of being grouchy."

"I'm mad at them," said Jack. "At Aunt Tamara and Uncle Phil?" I asked, starting to get confused. "No...I mad at Transformers cause they scare me." Thinking we were getting to the heart of why his lights were on at 9 p.m., I began to talk about why there were no Transformers coming to get him, and that even if they did show up his Build-A-Bear Cheetah would do his scary roar and chase them away. "And Scuba Divers?" Jack asked. "Scuba Divers, too" I promised. "And fish, too" Jack added. "O.k." I said. "Fish, too."

Turns out Cheetah's roar didn't seem sufficient for all those foes, so Jason was drafted to come downstairs and tell all the Transformers, Scuba Divers and Fish who were thinking about scaring Jack to bugger off once and for all. With that accomplished, Jack curled up with his stuffed hippo and went to sleep.

As I readied myself for bed, I began to think of all the things that keep my eyes wide and staring as the night drags on...War, Politics, Random Acts of Violence and in general the vast uncertainty of the future stretching out before us. If anyone knows where I can find a stuffed animal with a roar big enough to take on these boogie men, please e-mail me ASAP.

Jailbirds