Every Batman has to start somewhere

I walked into the den to find this little scene yesterday - NOT that there is anything abnormal about Nick playing on the computer. We even caught him downstairs in this same position one night well after eleven - when we thought he was asleep in bed. Little sneak! He is way too literate in the subject for my taste already. (Maybe it's a good thing, who knows.) His whole outfit totally cracked me up though. He was watching Lego Batman 'movies' over and over, apparently the cape was necessary for this exercise. Right after breakfast the first thing he asks invariably is "so, it's okay I go hop on da 'puter?". I'm a little a-scared.

(Please note that one of the garlands only has half of the lights working. . . I got a good week out of them before they burned out though.)

(Please do not note the mess on the desk. Thank you.)

A Christmas Poem for You

Twas just days before Christmas
and all through the town
the snow won't stop falling
and the satellite's down.
Far more snowmobiles than plows
can be seen on my street
as we search through the pantry
for something warm to eat.
After shoveling my way
out to feed all the creatures
I'm feeling quite numb
through all of my features.
I'll put the kiddies to bed
turn the fire up just right.
Merry Christmas to all
and to all a good night!

Wow, and hope everyone is safe and warm inside on a night like this! (At least here! Brr.) Sorry for the lame poem. My brain is frozen. I told my mom the snow was up to my knees this morning and then had to take it back, because it was only half-way up my shins. Well, NOW IT IS! Big furry snow boots don't help all that much when the snow is higher than the boots. Time for new boots? (Isn't it always?)
Poor Mr. Barney McDreamy (the 'barn' kitty) is confined to cruise around in the paths I made because otherwise he'd sink in over his head. His fault though, really, we keep trying to bring him inside but the most inside time he can handle is overnight in the garage. Otherwise he howls like a banshee. I'm babbling. So sorry!

Tinkle All the Way

Every time Nick hears "JingleBells" (Particularly the Jimmy Dean version) he breaks into a huge grin and through an excited giggle he shrieks (yes, shrieks), "YES! I wud dis song! Tinkle Bells is my fwavwite!" Then he literally bounces up and down singing through the entire thing. If I didn't already love Christmas music, that would sell me on it, right there.

So you might have guessed that I haven't really been doing laundry this whole time - well, maybe a little, but I've been busy, man! I've been hauling out the holly, decking the halls, wishing you a Merry Christmas, and letting it snow. I love the way everything glows at Christmastime. Beautiful lights inside and outside, rosy cheeks, crackling fires (Ah, the insistent cry of the tea kettle ready to make something to warm you to your toes). Even cars get a little merry with wreaths wired to their grills. I love having garland and twinkle lights throughout the house. It just feels so cozy and warm even if deep down inside I know that I'm wearing thermals, tights, wool socks. . . Look to the lights and feel warm. That's NOW though. The last two weeks of dealing with blasted twinkle lights officially gave me two grey hairs (I'm sure it was the lights.), which OF COURSE I have just as officially yanked out and sent on their way. But in the course of cursing out yet another series of inanimate objects I saw the light (if you will), or was enlightened (if you won't) about myself and my other - more masculine - half (you know, Tyler).


The tree (which we picked up from Tyler's friend, or as his sister so aptly put it "let me guess, Tyler knows a guy. . .") was already lit and Tyler had helped me find my sanity with a couple of strings of lights that decided to stop being lights once they were on the tree for thirty minutes or so. THAT night in itself was traumatic enough in the light department, but all ended well and fairly quickly. The next day I started in on the bazillion lengths of garland strung with lights. Not one of fourteen or so strings worked all the way. I know they worked when I took them down last year. What could have possibly happened to them all packed away nice and neat over the past months? Seriously. If the whole string wants to go out - fine, if a couple of lights don't want to work - splendid, but HALF the string? Or if you twitch the string this way or that it works? Come on, how long have little twinkle lights been made? Could it really be that hard to make some that aren't so finicky?

After replacing a few bulbs on a string and testing a ridiculous amount of them I still had one string that was half lit and half not. I was ready to toss it out the window, or in the garbage can at least, but McGuyver sitting on the couch couldn't let it go. He took over and switched out every unlit bulb - even the ones I had already changed. When that didn't work he started going through the wire connections to each bulb looking for who knows what.

McTyler- See, this light has three wires going in to it.

Scroogey Me- Uh-huh.

McT- Most of them only have two.

SM- Mm. (Fascinating. Can we throw it away yet?)

McT- I just need to find where the third wire comes in again. . . it bypasses this one, and this one, and this one. . .

SM- Then what? (Then we get to throw it away? Besides electricity isn't really your thing.)

McT- I don't know, I'm not good with electricity.

SM- Hmm. (Whatever do you mean? Like the time you melted a screwdriver fixing a ceiling fan? Like that?)

---At this point MacGuyver-Tyler jumped up from the couch and disappeared into the garage. He returned (Before I could throw the lights away.) with some kind of little electric current tester-thingy.---

SM- Um, what are you doing now? (You do know we could replace this string this for TWO dollars?)

McT- I just have to figure out where the current is stopping.

SM- Oh-kay. (awkward pause) I was just going to give up. (and throw them away.)

McT- Yeah, I kind of got that.

SM- So. . . you don't just-want-to-throw-them-away-and-buy-another-string? Much easier. (For two dollars!)

McT- Nope. I need to figure this out. This wire has (blah-blah) volts here but only (blah-blah) volts here.

SM- Cocoa?

McT- Working. Maybe later.

SM- Mm, yeah. Did I mention we could just throw them away?

McT- Yep.

BUT, long story short (because this went on for two tivo'd episodes of Chuck) - He checked all the little wires around each connection until he finally figured something out and saved the stupid light strand (and two dollars). So, what did I learn? The things I don't know how to do are completely my fault because I simply don't care enough. Tyler seems to know how to do everything not only because he cares, but because he can't let it (anything) go until he understands it completely. What's worse is that it drives me a little crazy when I don't 'get it' and he does. . . just not crazy enough to figure it out for myself.

I'm a Junkie.

The signs - you know you should stop, maybe make dinner or put the kids to bed. So you put it off and then when you get around to doing all the things you should be doing all you can think about is when you can get back to your little addiction. How much longer? Can you take it? Your sleeping suffers because you stay up feeding your craving almost until it's time to wake up. Then when you finally turn off the light to get an hour or two of sleep your mind is too busy to let you rest. At last you see it affecting your family. "What are you doing, Mom?. . .Oh, never mind." And your husband comes home from work wearing vampire fangs just to get your attention. (And does he ever - get your attention, I mean.)



So, I stubbornly refused to touch any of the Twilight books for, hmm, years, I guess. I felt it must be a Buffy rip-off and I was far too loyal a fan of the Buffy / Angel love story (and Joss Whedon) to fall for another lesser vampire storyline. I did the same thing with the Harry Potter mania - Scoffed at the fanatics waiting in droves for their pre-ordered copies of the latest wizarding installment, and then I completely sold out. (Not that that had anything to do with Buffy. ) I read LITERATURE, not pulp-fiction. Sheesh. What a faker I am. As much as I love plod slowly through a multi-layered piece of 'serious ' literature, have I ever been so engrossed that I would literally fly through thousands of pages within a few days because I could-not-put-it-down? (I can stop anytime I want, I swear.) I don't think so. (Well, at least not when a grade hasn't been attached to the reading in some way.)

Bottom line - you can count me among one of the Twilight groupies now. (Dang-it.) Edward's team, of course. Now that the reading frenzy is over though, I'm a little lost. I went through the entire series in a week - Thanksgiving week at that. Now I have that strange feeling of surreal loss that you get when you close the last chapter of the world you've been escaping to and you're just not quite ready to let it go. Whatever shall I do, Wherever shall I go? To the laundry room, I guess.

Gobble, Gobble!

Before

Happy Thanksgiving to all you turkeys out there! (Heh, heh.) SO, Thanksgiving went off without a hitch, except that for the first time in recent (or ancient for that matter) history I was finished with my portions of the meal (Turkey, Cranberries, Stuffing, Gravy and two pies) early. That, my friends, was more than a little disconcerting. Through all of my day-before prep I was silently repeating the mantra of "I can be ready on time, I can be ready on time". (Not unlike the "today is my best day yet!" mantra from freshman year - thanks to my roommate, Amy the Great). It must have worked though because I popped out of bed at six-thirty ready to pull the turkey out of the brine and stick him in the oven. The only holdup came in the form of the thirteen onions I had to cut between those roasted with the turkey and those for the stuffing. Onions are my Achilles heel in cooking. I've tried everything to get past the stinging, watery eyes - even as far as tying saran wrap around my face. Alas, it has all been to no avail. Tears run down my face as I blindly wield my knife, and every chop I make is one closer to lopping off a finger. The closest I've come to be able to survive this feat is turning the kitchen fan on high, strapping on my ski-goggles, and breathing through my mouth. It's not pretty. Tyler seems to think it's funny. I think it's necessary - you won't be seeing this girl on food network.

Lovely, I know. (I think the blur is totally appropriate for this picture - it's the way I was seeing!)

So when Mr. Turkey reached the perfect temperature to be done a full forty-five minutes earlier than I had planned for I didn't know what to do. It was like arriving early to an event that has assigned seating. Completely out of my element. I didn't know what to do. Good thing Tyler can keep a clear head in such times. He turned the oven off and cracked the door. My hero. The turkey was saved.

After :)

I put the boys to work helping me make thumbprint turkeys for the place-cards and put master-chef Tyler to work making the gravy from the pan juices. Delicious! The wonderful food everyone brought in was amazing. What a yummy day, and I didn't even need my flashcards.