Just in case you forgot...

You cannot post on blogspot with Internet Explorer 9 -- you have to downgrade to IE 8. And now that I have my lovely, old laptop back, I'm back online!!

When suburban plants attack...

Ah, gardening weather. Time to get out and put some plants in the ground. You know, the ones I bought last summer and have been nursing in pots ever since. I went out, pulled back the weeds and sunk a few in the ground. That's when I ran into something I've never seen before. It's a short, fuzzy-looking, pale green weed with heart-shaped leaves. It's lovely. Until:

This stinging nettle plant, known as the “heartleaf nettle,” has a natural defense mechanism: When touched, tiny hairs deposit burning toxins into the skin.

There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home...

Having a Black Christmas

Oh, do I have a revelation for you. Remember how I keep trying to figure out where I got my wacky, unrealistic goals for Christmas? I figured out where they came from. Ready? My husband! That poor man is trying to channel the year 1964. Yeah! His father used to make this fun, fun, fun time for the kids, and he's determined to do the same. Strange, sick little man. And by that, I mean my husband, not his father. It's strange the baggage we live with, isn't it?

Next year, it's store-bought cookies for me! They're better than mine anyway. But first I have to get Lewis Black's new book. ;)

So thankful...

So, so thankful.

I know what you're thinking -- she's thankful that it's over, right? No. I'm thankful for lots of things, most of them strange.

I'm thankful for food that's not made mostly of sugar. Lord knows I can't take anymore sugar. For at least three more hours. It's toast for dinner for me. Dry toast.

I'm thankful that I'm not my brother. In Iowa. Visiting his self-centered in-laws. "Let's schedule our 50th anniversary party over Christmas so we can make the kids all travel through the snow to visit us. And make sure they bring their spouses, so we can be free to do what we want when we're finished playing with the grandkids." I called their house this afternoon and told them strictly not to wake him up if he's napping. They yelled until he got up and answered the phone. *sigh* I told him not to stress as they'll be dead soon. If God is kind to us.

I'm thankful that my son didn't blow up suddenly at any point this Christmas. He almost melted down last night over a defective computer game he got for his birthday. As if Christmas doesn't overexcite him enough, his birthday is Christmas Eve. But he had a great Christmas. Even when my mom gave him a blue towel for Christmas. I think it was a gag gift to go with the $20 bill, but you never know with my mom.

I'm thankful for the dishwasher. Need I say more?

I'm thankful that I won't be cooking next year. No one eats the cookies or candies that I make, and I'm okay with that. We can do some Pepperidge Farms and Godiva next year, and no one will mind. I'll probably make some peanut brittle for my lovely husband, a pecan pie for my lovely dad, and a veggie cheese strata for my lovely mom. But that's all.

I'm thankful that my kids' brains didn't collapse, even though I left them to their own dietary devices this year. And they ate peanut M&M's all day. I realized with some chagrin this evening that I hadn't fed them all day and that they hadn't asked for anything. Oops. And I'm thankful that they didn't barf. Oh, and that they won't go bowlegged before tomorrow. Probably.

I'm thankful that my kids are growing up and I won't be going to the 5:00 children's church service next Christmas Eve. Enough is enough. Seriously, who has a "Happy Birthday Jesus" party and gives cake and punch to little kids at 5:15 on Christmas Eve? It's time for good music and candles again. The turning point is the year that the kids stay up later than you do. We're there, baby.

I'm thankful that no one was killed getting the 4x4 beam up into the attic to support the new cozy swing that hangs in my daughter's bedroom. What an ordeal! But my man and I pulled it off.

I'm thankful for my husband who helps me do the impossible. He's my counterweight, the Simon the my Garfunkel. Team Verge can take it down. "Tag me in! Tag me in!"

And I'm thankful for my internet buddies that help me when the husband doesn't get it. Thanks to you all! And merry Christmas!

And to all a good night...

Good news, bad news...

So, there's good news and there's bad news...

Good: My white-paper-bag Solstice luminaria in the driveway are lovely. I haven't set the neighborhood on fire yet or anything.
Bad: My husband put out the trash, directly in front of them. I love him so.

Good: The Boy put up the mistletoe in the hallway.
Bad: I'm going to be bumping my head on that danged jingle bell for the next three weeks.

Good: The lemon cookies turned out pretty well, despite my not having enough honey.
Bad: I'm single-handedly eating all of them.

And on it goes... :) I wonder if everyone else's good and bad mix together quite so consistently.

Like Martha freakin' Stewart!

Didja ever cook something complicated for dinner, just knowing that the kids were going to love it? No, me either. Every time I make meatballs, I think to myself, "Well, there's an hour I'll never see again!" Fortunately, I love them! (I cook the onions first, so they have a caramelized sort of flavor. Mmm.)

On a brighter note, I actually mailed a hand-knitted scarf to a dear old friend today, and included some catnip mice that I made from baby socks. I even wrapped it in an old Hickory Farms box that I re-covered with wrapping paper using spray adhesive. I felt like Martha freakin' Stewart!

Then I took the kids to Target. AND didn't get a mint mocha. Hmph. Next time I fly solo!

The house is still a mess, but I don't care anymore. My Amazon boxes arrived. The house is adequately decorated. The Husband had bought The Boy's presents, and I've taken care of everyone else. The Boy has decorated the gingerbread house. The Thanksgiving cranberries have been made into orange-cranberry bread and put in the freezer.

So, tomorrow morning I'm taking a few hours off -- and getting a mamogram. Oh, I am a wild and crazy woman on the loose!

Christmas in Dixie (Part 3)

You know it's almost Christmas when the maple trees start to turn. Yeah. Not that it's anything like Vermont -- the leaves turn a rusty dark red, while the vines turn yellow. The live oaks only turn a slightly darker green. The elm tree in my yard just goes brown and then naked. It's a lovely time of year!

On a related note, it is not redundant to decorate an orange tree. Just as the fruit becomes orange, blue balls can be added to show your allegiance to Gator Nation. Yayyyy...