FULFILLED

A dream come true...

Last night I was here
(forward FDD, row 22, aisle seat)

to see this

which was this.

Seats on the floor, next to my dear friend Rebecca,
it was a night to make my dreams come true. Michael even took us out to dinner beforehand!
(He then went to the movie theater to watch G.I. Joe...)


And everyone lived happily ever after.

GRATEFUL

Here's to you, Lindsay!

Monday night the male counterparts and I got together for family night and made this:

A Gratitude Tree!

We each had several little tags upon which to name any variety of things for which we find ourselves particularly grateful. I then oh-so-artistically hung them upon a dead tree branch, put the branch into a vase of very cheap/after Halloween clearance priced/quite stale but still lovely candy corns, and stood back to admire our new centerpiece.

All artistry was lost on said male counterparts. However, the humor of some of the tags was not lost on me. Check this one out, written by the one son who doesn't have a cell phone:

I also smiled at the entries "snow," "my laptop," "all electronics," and "girls" (complete with smiley face). And of course my heart warmed to read, "Mom and Dad," along with four tags printed with the word "family."

(I'll admit to being the one who did not join the crowd on that one, having already inscribed my tags with words like, "lotion," "new clothes," and "toilet paper." Yeah, I'm some sort of shining example...)

But the tag that really made me stop and think was this one, written by Michael.

Do you think there is a tag anywhere on those dried and withered branches that says, "My wife," or "The woman who makes me all those wonderful meals I eat, and irons all those clothes I wear," or even just plain "Keri"!?

And yet the dog made it up there.

Serious cause for reflection.

But, the truth is, although I would NEVER IN MY LIFE have chosen to put Sadie on any list of any thing I'm grateful for, I will admit that my heart--materialistic as it may be--was touched that Michael chose to do so.

And, though I don't have too many pictures to prove it, I think these next few photos are pretty representative of how all the fine fellows I live with feel about the dog.

(I stepped in poo yesterday, right after vacuuming dog hair off a white rug, so don't even think of asking me how I feel about the dog.)

But, truth is (enough with the truth already!) I, on my own, would never have given my husband something that would have made him a happy and grateful man, would never have allowed my children the fun they have with the fur ball, and would never go outside half as much as I do now. And that means I never would have seen things like this:

or this

or this

.

So, there may be reasons to be grateful for Sadie after all.
May be.

My husband says so.

If you haven't got all the things you want,
be grateful for the things you don't have,
that you don't want.

I like that idea. Time to fill out some more tags!

ADDICTED

Now that I am back from Mexico, back from St. George,
through being sick with not-quite-the-swine-flu-but-still-yucky-nonetheless,
and done teaching for two weeks straight,

all I have to say is

that I am addicted to these:

Pumpkin Spice Hershey Kisses. They are divine. I want to live a life so good that when I die I can go to heaven and subsist on nothing but Pumpkin Spice Hershey Kisses, Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory's white chocolate and cinnamon covered caramel apples, and the hot chocolate I drank on the cruise. Oh, and chips and salsa.

(It's a lovely thought to realize I can come so close to heaven while staying right here on earth!)

I would encourage all of you to run right out to your local Target to buy some of these seasonal delights,

but

some of you might live in Utah, and that means you would be depleting the amount of packages of Pumpkin Spice Hershey Kisses that are potentially mine.

So,

IF you live outside of Utah, happy shopping.

(And, yes, I do realize that it is selfish thoughts like above that will keep me from getting into heaven in due time. I guess I'll just have to eat my fill now.)

BUSY

I've been busy.
And now I'm gone on a trip.

I was not busy getting ready for the trip
(until about two nights before we left).

I was busy doing this:

Me: watching
Boys: playing

Doing this:

(I love it when my bangs look this good!)

And doing this:

Making witches.
It turned me in to one, too.


Especially when I looked up and saw the clock.
This is in the a.m.
And was about 25 minutes before I finally got to bed.

So that I could wake up at 6 o'clock
in the a.m.
for more of this:


and this:

Now that I'm on a trip,
I am just looking forward to this:

and this:

I won't be busy.

Adios, amigos y amigas. See you in a week.

CAPABLE

It can be done, folks! It can be done!

Didn't I tell you?

I should not bake.

Ever.

NOT CHEF-BOYARDEE

I should not bake. Ever.

Whenever I do bake, I do things like...
Add a teaspoon of red chili pepper instead of ground cinnamon. What?! They're almost the same color, and they were right next to each other on the shelf! It could happen to anyone (except my Aunt Laurie)!
But, man, that was one nasty apple pie.

I always think ahead and double the recipe so that we can have extra to eat.
At least there would be extra, if I didn't always forget that I was baking food and not charcoal briquettes.

And, just so you know (because apparently I didn't),
plastic trays, no matter how hard they may appear, do not work as cookie sheets in a conventional oven.
They will, however, create some awesome art pieces, if you like that sort of thing (and if you don't need your oven racks anymore).

Mostly, we don't like that sort of thing. And we also don't like eating charcoal briquettes.
But,
that's what we have around here.

Even when I'm extra super conscientious,
and
make sure I have all the proper ingredients,
correctly measure out all the proper ingredients, and
follow the directions step by step rather than adhere to my usual dump-and serve method,

something still happens, like
the phone rings, or
the dog pees,
or I forget to check the temperature settings on the stove,
and we get this:

in place of real banana bread. (Once I cut away the crusty parts, the insides were still good!)

And my family continues to have me (and a lot of blackened baked goods)
instead of my Aunt Laurie, or Lindsay, or Chef Boyardee.

Won't somebody please, please, take pity on us,
and bake us a plate of done-right cookies?!