Reflections...

Have you ever caught a glimpse of yourself in a mirror or your reflection in a window and you think "Dang, I'm not looking so great today." Only then the next day, you see yourself again and it's like "I'm sensing a pattern here..."

By the third or fourth time that happens, you start to realize that no, it wasn't a bad day. That's what you ACTUALLY LOOK LIKE.

I am cute on a good day. At my best, I may even be kind of pretty. I have never been, and will never be, "beautiful," at least not in my own eyes or, I think, in the opinion of the general public.

But even when you feel like an ugly duckling for the most part, there are times in your life when you feel halfway decent about your outward appearance. Like "Yeah, I've got it..."

Maybe because I came out of my pregnancy 20 pounds thinner than I went into it. Maybe because I gave birth to what I consider to be one of the most beautiful, perfect creatures that ever was. Maybe just the glow of being a new mama again. I don't know, but I've spent the last few weeks feeling pretty dang good.

Until I caught my reflection. I am not looking good. I am struggling. Even with my sassy new hair. Something must be done. I will let you know when I figure out what.

Sundays...

Sundays are nice when you have absolutely nothing to do. My house could be cleaner, but everyone needs to mosey every now and then. I have a sassy new haircut and it's a shade of red that Hubs doesn't appreciate, but life is pretty good.

I love my two little sugars. Sundays remind me of that. Even when they're sniffly and grumpy or throwing up on you after riding the Sky Trooper at the county fair (so sorry about that, Boy. It was a bad, bad idea.), they make the world go round.



And this face? This girl is going places. I can just see it.

All I want for Christmas...

I need to post this before I forget.

The Boy started a Christmas list this week. Wanna know what's on it?

1. A remote controlled dump truck that we saw at the "fancy" toy store today, which Santa will try to produce for half the ridiculously inflated price, but fail miserably.

2. One of those poles with the extending claw on the end for picking up cans on his litter walks with Pap.

3. An alarm system with loudspeakers that will allow him to conduct fire drills at home. Complete with the little fire handle you pull to set off the alarm and flashing lights.

4. Life Alert. Yes, of the "I've fallen and I can't get up!" variety.

I...I just...well...

He's mine. Aaaaaalllll mine.

Boo, hiss on la...

In releasing some long pent-up anger, I managed yesterday to play my part in hurting a person I consider one of my very best friends. I should definitely have put more thought into the impact of my words.

I've apologized and I think (*hope*) we're okay, but it's been eating at me all night. I'm not a villain, but I sure as hell acted like one. So I owe the universe something good today. Taco retribution, if you will.

Two months?

Happy two months, little girl. Mama is more proud of you every day!

C'mon lady, have a heart....

Today, I got a postcard in the mail "asking" for a donation to the local volunteer fire department.

Now, I'm all for supporting my local VFD. Those guys are awesome.

But the donation "request" tells you to send the card back in with your payment. So now I've got this visual of me dialing 911 and the guys down at the fire hall flipping through a rolodex of returned "donation" cards, and being all, "Oh THAT house? They didn't send a check. Let's make some dinner before we head over there."

Like the time I donated to the Troopers' association. The next year, I just didn't have the spare cash laying around. They called back like seventeen times, getting meaner and meaner every time. And I am now convinced that they are out there somewhere, looking for my license plate, so they can pull me over and call me names and make me cry.

I'm nervous enough in my car, so I guess I'll send the VFD a check tomorrow so I can at least stay home in peace, without my conscience screaming "Shoulda supported the VFD!"

Random crap day...

Overheard at Rite Aid:

"Oh, sir, are those your nuts?"
"Ah yes, almost left them here!"

*giggle*
I am twelve.
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Seriously, work? No better. All they'd have to do is confiscate my Swingline and I might turn into Milton.
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Everyone seems to agree that my husband is quite the douche for busting out my back glass. He , of course, thinks it was a nice "honest" mistake.

To quote my cherry blossom friend, "Shouldn't surveyors have better spacial skills?"

He's not amused.