Apparently.

I swear, to all that is chocolate, that I haven't slept this much since my honeymoon, when I had three consecutive days of sleeping for 12 hours each night. The last two days have been naught but a napping frenzy for my body, with a complete eight hours of sleep each night, and a three-hour nap in the morning after dropping Sydney at school.
It is, therefore, completely and utterly wrong that I still feel crappy.
As I asked Brian this morning, "Is this what being 39 means? Does it mean that a cold can push me down and flatten me out for so many days?" "Apparently," was his response. "Apparently," is right. And everyone's best advice, or sympathy, is to point out that, at 39, I need to be taking better care of myself. Granted ... maybe. But I've been doing okay lately. Except for running myself ragged for the last several months. (I'm convinced that this cold is a direct result of moving to Houston.) Still, I can see where this incredible sickness could be considered a spotlight shining on my immune system, or lack thereof.
Whatever. I'm tired. I want to feel better. I've had a bad day on top of a bad week, and I just want to go to bed. Here come tonight's eight hours.

Not Irish coffee

I got a couple Irish jokes in my e-mail today. Since I have nothing to share with you in regards to my day (I slept a lot and still feel crappy), I'll give you the giggles, at the expense of stereotyping my ancestry.

Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door.
"Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell ya."
"Of course, you can come in. You're always welcome, Tim. But where's my husband?"
"That's what I'm here to be telling ya, Brenda. There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery."
"Oh, God, no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me."
"I must, Brenda," he said. "Your husband Seamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry."
Finally, she looked up at him. "How did it happen, Tim?"
"It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout, and drowned."
"Oh, my dear Jesus! But you must tell me the truth, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?"
"Well, Brenda, no. In fact, he got out three times to pee."

Mary Clancy goes up to Father O'Grady after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears.
He says, "So what's bothering you, Mary, my dear?"
She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news. My husband passed away last night."
The priest says, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, did he have any last requests?"
She says, "That he did, Father."
The priest says, "What did he ask, Mary?"
He said, "Please Mary, put down that damn gun,"

A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a confessional booth, and sits down, but says nothing.
The priest coughs a few times to get his attention, but the drunk continues to just sit there.
Finally, the priest pounds three times on the wall.
The drunk mumbles, "Ain't no use knockin', there's no paper on this side either."

As personable as a lionfish

Colds suck.
They do. There's no other way to say it.
Also, today, my cold made me an awful person to be around. I was incredibly irritable, very tired, and easily crabby. It did not make for an attractive Kimmie, and I give all the credit to Brian and Sydney that they even managed to allow me to be near them, rather than lock me in my bedroom. As, let's face it, they should have.
I did apologize to both of them, though.
And I look forward to a good night's sleep tonight, feeling better tomorrow, and taking a nap after dropping Sydney at school, thereby enjoying some peace and quiet.

Go skiing, already!

Brian and I visited a ski shop today.
You know, I used to be a really good skier. I used to go skiing all the time. I've still got a big bag full of ski stuff, as well as my skis, in the storage unit. And it's been six years since I've been skiing.
Brian and I wandered through the shop, checking out the jackets, pants, hats, skis, boots and kids' stuff. All the stuff was super cute, and all of it was worthy of streaking down the mountain. And all of it made me sad.
I think it was looking at the kid stuff, the clothes that Sydney would be wearing this season, that made me actually cry in the store. All I could think of is how happy Howie would be to get Sydney up on the mountain. How, at five, she would be logging her second season on the mountain this year. How he would just love buying her new outfits every year, and how he'd dig getting her those tiny skis, and how he's be so proud of her for choosing skis over a snowboard (which she has).
I haven't skied in six years. The last time I was on a mountain was in Steamboat Springs, Colo. Brian and I had just found out that I was pregnant, and had just told Mom and Howie. It was, quite simply, one of the best ski weekends.
And getting back on the mountain, without him, terrifies me. I mean, I know that he is just flipping out right now that it's been so long since I've skied. I know that he is the voice in my head right now that's screaming at me to get some new pants, a jacket and skis. I know he's pissy at me, and wants nothing more than for me to get myself, and my kid, on a ski slope. And I know that he's the most angry about not being able to ski with us.
But this is where I get selfish. I can count on one hand, in 30 years, how many times I've skied without that man. Doing it now scares me. It upsets me. It makes me sad.
Brian's pushing for a ski trip, and in theory, I'm down with it, but in actual practice, I also know that the first day I'm up on a mountain I may just cry the entire time. It makes me sad.

Have cupcake, feel better

I hate to admit defeat after only about 14 hours, but I think I've fallen victim to Sydney's cold. I'm sorry, but I can not stand that kindergarten has turned my angelic little girl into a festering pool of germination and nastiness that I fear bringing into my home.
And now, there is a cold, running fast and loose through my house. And all I can do is struggle to keep it away from Brian.
Yesterday for Sydney: Stuffy nose in the morning. Cold medicine administered. Complaints of tiredness on the way to school. Snot. Stuffy nose in the afternoon. More snot. Cold medicine. Early to bed.
Today for Sydney: Stuffy nose. Snot. Claim of "feeling much better." Cold medicine. More snot. Cold medicine. Early to bed.
Today for me: Two sneezes while making breakfast. Blowing of the nose. Long nap. Stuffy nose. Tea. Sore throat. Nose blowing. Snot. Sneezing. Admission of sickness. Tea. Barely veiled plea for sympathy on Facebook. Blog about cold. Hopefully, early to bed, too.

Also, I totally frickin' LOVE this picture of a cupcake. I don't know why, but it's too cute. It's the happiest cupcake picture I've ever seen.

Wednesday ITEM! list

ITEM!: For the first time in a long time, Brian and I watched all three movies that arrived from our Netflix queue: Cowboys & Aliens, The Debt and Moneyball. I'm further pleased to note that we liked each one of them. None were disappointing, and all kept our attention. None were cheesy, and all were deemed good choices by me, the Queue Controller. I don't know what will be sent to us next, but I hope they're good, too! [Editor's Note: I picked this particular Cowboys & Aliens post photo because of how AWESOME Daniel Craig's ass is in these chaps. No kidding, the price of admission for this movie is worth it because of the glancing views of him walking away from the camera. His butt is fan.tas.tic.]
ITEM!: I didn't blog last night because I was up late reading. I love it so much when "I was reading" is my excuse for anything. And this was the absolute truth: I was finishing up the Hunger Games trilogy. Those are some good books right there.
ITEM!: This morning's task was to register my car and get some Texas license plates. To do such a thing, I needed to go to the county tax assessor's building, of which there are about eight. The one I found was about 15 minutes away. The line was, when I entered it, about 20 people long. But guess what: You stand in line, and when you arrive at a window, the person at the window helps you with whatever you are there to handle. There's no checking in and being given an assigned number and bank of windows to wait on. There aren't any chairs either, but the line moved fast, and my paperwork was finished before I got there, so the visit was relatively painless. So, within 45 minutes, I entered the building and then exited the building with my license plates and registration sticker. Huzzah! Now, on to the driver's license! 
ITEM!: I'm excited to note that the next few days should be cool here in Houston. We had a ton of rain today, too, and the cooler weather will be welcome. I hate having to turn on my air conditioner. In January. To combat the humidity. Ugh.
ITEM!: I want to dig into my storage unit and bring up some additional decorative items. I don't know which boxes I want, and I don't know what I want within them. You know what I do know? That I don't want to have to bring them upstairs by myself. They're probably heavy.

Return of the Cozy Chair!

And so it happened, that on Sunday morning, I decided that the time had come ... for Cozy Chair to come out of the storage and return to my bedroom. Therein it takes its rightful place in my heart, and under my bottom. I love that I was able to walk into my living room Sunday morning, tell Brian that I need his brute strength, and that he was up for it. There were steps, of course, to shifting my bedroom around for Cozy Chair: move my nightstand, move the bed, move Brian's nightstand, empty the armoire, move the armoire, fill the armoire, bring up Cozy Chair and ottoman, bring up Cozy Chair cushion and floor lamp, and finally, randomly shift around other things to appease my obsessiveness. After all that, wall hangings and artwork needed to be moved. Even now though, I'm on the hunt for a new floor lamp that matches my bedroom nightstand lamp (Ikea, here I come!!). But just you all know, I'm sitting in my Cozy Chair right now, and I'm watching TV, and it makes me happy.
You know what else makes me happy? The DVR in my bedroom right now. There is something to be said for a happy marriage meaning that there are two televisions that each spouse can call their own. And this is aimed more at me than Brian. I need my own TV. I need a viewing system that is mine, and mine alone. I need a DVR that I can program for all my own shows, that I don't have to wait until the next day to watch. I need freer access to my stories, and that isn't possible with a husband who watches television as much as I. This happy marriage requires two televisions and two DVRs. And as of this morning, it is complete.

Goin' to the Big Game

I had a poetic, sweet blog post planned for tonight, but now, having watched a day's worth of football, I'm not feeling at all poetic or sweet. I feel triumphant, and weirdly anxious, about my Patriots making their way to the Super Bowl. What happens, you know, when the team that you cheer for ends up in the Super Bowl, is that the enjoyment of watching the Super Bowl -- as entertainment -- is over.
I typically enjoy the Super Bowl as an event, complete with yummy snacks, some beer, and humor over the commercials. When you have emotion in the game itself, as when your team is playing, it becomes a personal thing, and less fun. Watching this game on Sunday in two weeks, is going to be a painful experience for me. It'll be impossible to enjoy, unless my Patriots begin the ass-kicking early and put my mind at ease. I won't be able to handle a game in two weeks like the game tonight. It will be excruciating for me, and better for everyone else if they're not in my home that day.

He's a Prince ... of Persia

Someone please tell me why I seem to be so drawn to the movie Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time. I swear, if it's on, I'm watching it. I think I may have watched it about three times today. There is something wrong with me.
It stars Jake Gyllenhaal as Prince Dastan, an adopted son of the Persian king, who is wrongfully accused of killing said king, when really, he's on a noble quest to return a mystical dagger fueled by The Sands of Time, which can turn back time, to its rightful guardians, led by Princess Tamina, played by Gemma Arterton.
By all accounts, this is not a fantastic movie. In fact, it's incredibly cheesy. But what it does have is male and female protagonists that like each other a whole lot though they can't tell each other that; CGI action scenes; a scenery-chewing Ben Kingsley; and enough activity to intrigue this entertainment junkie. The good is tempered by an equal amount of the ridiculous: Gyllenhaal's "accent;" Gyllenhaal's hair; and Gyllenhaal as an action hero.
The movie is based on a video game. Video games have sequels. Apparently, this video game had more than one sequel. Inexplicably, I want a sequel to this movie. I read today that Gyllenhaal wants a sequel, too. I think Disney should make that happen. To appease me and Jake Gyllenhaal.

Thoughts about today

39: Brian suggested that we go out to dinner tonight because, as he said, "You don't turn almost 40 every day!" He's wrong. Every day this year, I am one day closer to 40. Every day I do turn almost 40. This is bothering me.
39: Sometimes, when shopping for jeans, a brutally honest guy can be just as good a fitting room critiquer as your own mom. Thank you, Berlin, for helping me get through one of my least favorite things, jeans shopping, so I can buy one of my favorite things, jeans.
39: I visited my local Barnes & Noble and spent the gift card I got from Santa Claus (Thanks Mom, for helping Santa!). Purchases: Tina Fey's Bossypants, Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games, and Deborah Harkness' A Discovery of Witches. My To-Be-Read Pile just doubled.
39: Birthday brownies taste, theoretically, as good as birthday cupcakes, but they just feel less celebratory. I should have found my closest Sprinkles.
39: I enjoy having a Starbucks first thing in the morning and one later as my nightcap. It makes for a happy Kimmie.
39: I wonder if it's too late to take up running. I'd have to be a treadmill runner since my knees are so bad, but I wonder if I can do it. How does one start running? Is there a method to this madness?
39: I've decided that when I turn 40, in less than a year, I'm going to be in the best health of my life. Achieving that will make being 40 worth it, I think. Project!!

And with that, Tuesday is over

My tummy is growling, and I'm thirsty.
"Someone bring that girl some ice cream and a hot tea!!"
Why, thank you!! I'd love some!!

Guilt, thy name is Kimmie

Well, that was one of the worst afternoons of my life. Not just of my life as a mom, but my actual life.
Sydney had her five-year appointment with a new pediatrician today. I knew, going into it, that there would be shots involved. I knew that she would not have an entirely pleasant experience. But I also knew, as the mom, that this was going to the be the best thing for my baby girl, and that we would both have to soldier through it together. The beginning of the appointment was fine, as they are, because all the bad stuff is saved for last. And that last part just about tore my heart out.
First, the finger prick and blood collection to check for anemia and all that. She cried, and complained profusely about how her finger hurt. "I don't want that to ever happen again," she said.
Lastly, the four, yes, FOUR booster shots. The nurse and I laid Syd down on the table, and while I held her torso and arms, the nurse held her legs and administered the shots. This did not go well. She got nervous as I held her, even before the first shot. I tried to calm her, rubbed her forehead, and talked to her as the nurse did her work, but the screaming and crying got to be too much for me, and eventually, all I could do was cry with her and tell her I was so sorry. Oh my god, the screaming. It was awful. And the logic, too. "Mommy, make her stop hurting me!!"
I swear, this was the first time that she could put together that I was allowing her to be hurt by getting these shots. It wasn't anything that I was about to stop. All I did was tell her that I love her, and not stop the nurse from hurting her. I know I'm overreacting, but I feel like I betrayed her in the one way that I'm never supposed to, by letting her be hurt in my presence. I'll hear her screaming in my nightmares for the rest of my life. I'll see her face when I close my eyes tonight, and it will haunt me. In fact, I may just sleep with her tonight. I can't stop hugging her.
We did discuss the reasons for the shots -- in the car on the way to Target -- and why they were so important. We talked about the medicine in each of them, and what sicknesses the medicine was saving her from. She continued to cry in spurts and hiccups the entire ride to Target, and I could barely hold my own composure when she'd start again. I couldn't comfort her enough.
There is nothing in the Target toy section that I would have not bought for her tonight. She earned both those dinosaur toys, and my guilt wouldn't allow me to limit her reward for getting through the afternoon. Tonight, as we discussed the appointment again, and she told me that I can't let that happen to her again. I was told that the next time someone wants to hurt her, I'm to push them away so we can run to the car and get away from them. I also have the option of running over them, since they won't be in a car. To clarify, I am to never let that happen ever again, and to never let anyone pinch her finger, either. It wasn't hard to promise that, as we hugged and discussed the day's events right before bed. When she needs another shot, we'll discuss how much of a liar I am, but until that day comes, I need her to trust again that I won't let her get hurt by anyone.

Clooney rocks, but of course

I love how my husband so gamely sits through my award shows with me. I mean, I love these shows, and I can sit and watch the red carpet and talk about how good, or not, someone looks, and how pretty, or not, their outfit is. I find things funny that most people wouldn't. I find things aesthetically offensive that most people wouldn't. My husband goes along with all of this. He'll dig in for the catty comments, and laugh when I share why something that person said is funny. He asks a lot of questions, which I'm not a big fan of, but mostly, he's a good partner in watching awards shows.
Tonight's award show offering was the Golden Globes. Presented by the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, the Globes are always a good time, as they include food, booze, and a more comfortable table seating arrangement than other award shows. Tonight's show, while entertaining, was less than amazing, as most of the thank-you speeches were long lists of people's names rather than chatty vignettes with a touch of emotion and humor.
Highlights: Ricky Gervais; George Clooney, as usual, who won for The Descendants; Octavia Spencer winning for The Help; Laura Dern's dress; Michelle Williams, with her shout-out to Busy Phillips; Claire Danes; Tina Fey photobombing Amy Poehler during their category nominations; and the Modern Family acceptance speech.

Disappointments: Woody Allen winning anything, because I just can't stand his movies; The Help didn't win its category, which is a conspiracy, I believe, towards an all-female ensemble cast; Bridesmaids didn't win its category, which is a conspiracy, I believe, towards an all-female ensemble cast; Meryl Streep, who always wins, keeping some other nominee from winning because of a part that only 10 people have seen; Tintin, because it creeps me out; how Angelina Jolie never seems to smile; and most every win being from cable.
I guess there's always next year. But first ... on to the Oscars!!

Saturday night, on the iPhone

ITEM!: Well, this is weird. I'm typing this post from my phone, as I'm in bed right now and too lazy to go get my computer. I had thought that I would just go back to sleep, after I woke up from my Sleep Appetizer on the sofa a bit ago, but it seems as though I'll stay awake for a bit longer watching football highlights. And as I shall stay awake, I shall blog.
ITEM!: Hey, did I ever mention to you how much I enjoy it when my football team wins? I knew my Pats would bring on the win over the Broncos tonight, but the ass-kicking that was exhibited tonight was epic. It's pretty awesome how quiet all those Tebow Time people are on my Facebook feed right now.
ITEM!: I got two new tires on my car today. Apparently, the state of Texas frowns on tires driven down to their wear bar, and failed the Jetta on its state inspection because of them. No biggie, as I knew that the tires had to be replaced, but I was hoping for at least a couple more weeks on them. Now I've got the unexpected cost of the tires on my credit card, and the anticipation of buying the other two in the next month. All that's left are the windshield wipers. Than I get to deal with the registration offices.
ITEM!: Tomorrow, I think I'd like to dig through my storage unit boxes and find some fun decorative pieces for my house. I've got some spaces, and they're bugging me. Kitchen and entry way, you're on my list.

No alarm clock tomorrow!

I think it's official: I'm officially getting older. This week, as Brian's car has been indisposed, I have had to be getting up early, driving him to work, and then taking Sydney to school. After I pick her up from school, we drive out and pick up Brian from work, and then come home. It's been quite some time since I've had to log that many hours in the car commuting to and from a job. It's tiring. Especially since I'm still freaked out about someone crashing into me from behind, and stressed that such a thing could happen with Sydney in the car. The entire week has been exhausting.
I can't wait to go to sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning, I get to sleep in, if Sydney will let me.

A Barbie just for Sydney

Sydney and I found something pretty awesome at Target today. Most times, as we wander the toy aisles at Target, we have a strict "We're not buying anything today" policy. Actually, that's my policy; she tends to disagree with it ... all the time. But every once in a while, we come across something that makes us both say, "Wow," and it gets put in the cart.
Today's discovery was ... wait for it ... Paleontologist Barbie.
She's awesome. Check her out:
<----
She comes with those nifty dirt-digging boots, khaki capris, a dinosaur shirt, and a pith helmet. Also, she comes with a pretend shovel and pretend bones that snap together to create a (very small) brachiosaurus skeleton. Honestly, she's fantastic. Okay sure, she's got the pretty hair, and the eye makeup, and the boobs, but she, more importantly, is the tangible evidence that YES, A GIRL PALEONTOLOGIST exists in the world. AND THERE'S A DOLL OF HER. Dismissing entirely that this doll is "Barbie;" this doll is a paleontologist.
So, I want to thank the "I Can Be ..." Barbie people for bringing the doll paleontologist into my home. After three years, I haven't found any other paleontologist dolls; have you? (Other "I Can Be ..." Barbies: doctor, ballerina, ballet teacher, teacher, computer engineer, chef, movie star, veterinarian, lifeguard, cooking teacher, zoo doctor, art teacher, babysitter, race car driver and architect.)
I tend to avoid the pink aisle because of its preoccupation with princess-ery, ball gowns and make-up. Sydney has little interest in it, as well. It must have been fated or something that we would both be okay with wandering that aisle today. And that there was only one Paleontologist Barbie on the rack. And that we saw it among all the other Barbie pinkness. And that I was in the kind of mood to break policy.

So choicy those people!

I just finished watching the People's Choice Awards. It was irritating. I hate so much when a televised awards show will make a big deal of not having enough time to announce all the winners, as the People's Choice Awards did, and then, in the same breath, broadcast a ridiculously "humorous" segment about style helpers, or something that takes up a good three or four minutes of air time. They could have taken all their little funny bits and actually presented six or seven awards, or had another music act play. I hate those little segments. They bug me. And tonight, every time one came on, I changed the channel on the TV. That was my Choice.
Besides my perhaps irrational hatred of humor as derived by award show creators, I did have a good day today. I made super yummy grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner: sourdough bread, mozzarella and cheddar swirly cheese and bacon. That made for a delicious sandwich that could only have been better with some tomato slices in it, too. (Next time.) Check me out, Y'ALL, I'm cooking dinners.

All in all, a Tuesday

In today's news, Kimberly:
~ ATE too many calories. A mocha, and a couple bites of the reduced fat cinnamon coffee cake at Starbucks? Really? The sloppy joe wasn't a bad thing, but the single serving of mac and cheese? Not a great idea. ... The calorie count goes down the drain for the day.
~ SPENT too much time outside, and it was a cold day. My feet and hands are finally at their proper temperature, though my nose is still feeling a bit chilly.
~ DIDN'T get to finish catching up on Terra Nova. I'm about halfway through the second-to-last episode, having watched the three episodes before that this afternoon. Tomorrow, I finish the season (or series?).
~ WILL get my blogging and computering done early so I can go to bed early. I need more time sleeping tonight.
~ MAY end up crashing in Sydney's room though, as she has the heater. A warm camp out on her floor may be just the right thing.
~ WAS the best wife ever. Ask Brian, he'd confirm it.
~ GOT closer to my 39th birthday. This is a problem because really, it's just way too close to 40.

Rain, okay; big puddles, not so much

So much rain is coming down,
pools wide, large and deep,
stalled cars get pushed, need tow trucks.

I love me a random (but TRUE!!) haiku.

Fish killer

Okay, so I got my e-mail notification of the blog posting this morning. Here's the thing: I hated it. The e-mail itself included the text of the post as well as the image. What it didn't do, that I had hoped for, was include the link to the blog post itself, sending you to the web page for the piece. I wanted the link, not the text.
Yes, I am that particular about the blog. Its Internet-ish integrity will not be messed with. You don't know it, but I have my own issues with some of Blogger's formatting, and I deal with them on my composing page. When the post is finished, it looks almost exactly as I want. And I will not have my fixes get all messed up in an e-mail. I simply will not have it. (So definitive about the most random things sometimes.)

Brian and I decided that we'd get Sydney a couple fish for her bedroom. His idea. My condition was that we get a real tank (not a large one, by any means) with a real filter system (so I can't be completely responsible for cleaning), with some rocks and decor for the inside (to help the fish be comfortable), and at least two or three fish (so if one dies -- which fish in my care tend to do -- we won't have any empty tank until replacements are bought). We haven't decided on when exactly we are going to do this, but I find myself thinking about it tonight, not coincidentally, after I chose this post's photo. I think I'd like to get her some clownfish, is what I mean.
So ... ... fish. You all know what a tangled web that is for me. I struggle with our decision, of course, but given the choice between fish, and the kitten that she "really really wants," I'd roll fish any day. Maybe Valentine's Day.

Caution: CONSTRUCTION

I got caught up in making a couple changes to the blog today. Totally and completely random changes, but changes nonetheless. One little thing I added was an e-mail subscription gadget on the left there, and down towards the bottom. It allows for you to submit your e-mail, and you get a notice every time I post something to the blog. I signed myself up for it this afternoon, and I'll be able to tell you in a few minutes if it works or not. I also changed a couple pictures, added a TV shows I watch section, and included a new search space for when you (or I) want to find something on the blog from a keyword or search term.
I'm thinking about changing the color scheme, too. Pink is awesome, but I wonder what other templates Blogger has cooked up in the last couple years.
Also, I downloaded the new Blogger app for my phone. That means, my dears, that from anywhere, I can post to the blog, including any picture or pictures I've taken with my phone. The world is open for the blogging! No longer will I be trapped here, underneath a laptop, in order to get my words out! no longer will I be a captive to the HTML version of blogging! (I'm not sure that terminology is right, but I'm using it because it sounds good.) No longer will I have a good idea for a post, and have to "remember" it for later that day when I get to my computer! No longer am I unable to throw something up here at a moment's notice! FREEDOM!!

UPDATE: I did play around with the new templates, but didn't see anything I like better than my pink one. I do like the green and blue flowers, but I'm so afraid of losing this most excellent pink format, that I won't change it.
Also, I just removed the e-mail feature. I don't like it. It's ugly.

EXTRA! EXTRA! Kimmie's making dinner!!

One of my dear friends, Jeannine, made mention of a couple of her New Year's Resolutions on Facebook last week. One of them was to have five or six dinner meals that she can make, that are easy, and that the family likes, in regular rotation in her kitchen. (Jeannine and I have similar insecurities in the kitchen. I say "insecurities" in regards to myself, rather that "inferiorities," which is really my problem, but that sounds too mean.) Anyway, I decided, upon reading Jeannine's Resolution, that I, too, would have recipes and meals that I can cook, and cook well, for dinner. My goal, currently, is seven. I've done my experimenting so far this week, and am proud to say that I've made a couple yummy dinners so far.
Monday night: noodles and butter, with salt and pepper. This is one of my favorite entrees, but doesn't qualify as one of my Seven Meals. I just hadn't gotten to the grocery store.
Tuesday night: BRINNER -- Texas-shaped waffles, scrambled eggs and grapes. I used regular batter for the waffles, but would like to try other flavors.
Wednesday: I bought us some pizza to-go. I'm not Superwoman in the kitchen, you know.
Tonight: Mom's tuna casserole. It turned out quite good! Sydney didn't like it, of course, but Brian did, and I'm pleased to say that it tasted just like it did the last time Mom made it.
I have an idea for tomorrow night, and for a couple other nights, as well. Don't tell anyone, but I'm getting excited. I'm feeling adventurous, and successful in my quest so far. I almost can't wait to hit the store and create my dinner tomorrow. WEIRD!!

Not bones, but wanting a sandwich

It is pretty awesome how my dogs can wake up from a sound sleep and bolt out of the bedroom when they hear Brian in the kitchen. This morning, at about 4 a.m., they woke and moved at such an alarmingly fast and sudden rate that they even woke me. The jumped off the bed, and I quickly followed. They ran into the living room, and I followed. I was convinced that something crazy had just happened, when indeed, it was just Brian opening the refrigerator.
They just did it again. Sleeping on the bed, in a seemingly deep state of rest, and they heard something. Who knows what it was. Brian swears he was ninja-like stealthy. But they both sat bolt-upright and raced ... raced ... off the bed and into the other room. Honestly, it startles me every time they do this. Which makes me feel dumb for being startled.
Oh well, I guess that all comes with the territory when you've got a couple ravenously starving creatures with good hearing that also like to sleep on your bed.

A dozen good things about today

1. Lisa
2. Pediatrician success
3. Dog love
4. Spelling flash cards
5. Texas waffles
6. Sunny skies
7. Archer
8. Andrea
9. Last 20 minutes of Tangled
10. Being smarter
11. Toy sorting
12. Going night-nights

What is she, a six-topus?

I'm enjoying the look of my house de-Christmas-ified. I'd only spent about a month in the place before doing the decorating for the holiday, so seeing it without all the Santas, snowmen and reindeer is like being in the apartment for the first time. I've moved stuff around, reorganized other things, and shifted bits and pieces by an inch or two here and there. I imagine myself walking around the place randomly tomorrow, moving things, and walking around with things, trying to find the perfect spot for each.
Also, I finally unpackaged my Ursula doll, and she's sitting on my bookshelf. Frustratingly, she only has six tentacles. Who at Disney did that bit of fact checking? Did someone not notice? Or was it intentional? Couldn't they just charge us another two or three dollars for the doll and make it with the eight legs an evil octopus requires? ... Hmm. Oh, well. Even though having only six legs diminishes a little bit from Ursula's evil octopus-ness, she's still pretty awesome, and is doing a good job of guarding the bookshelf.
Also, I'm still trying to figure out the best places for my plants. Some seem incredibly happy with where they are. Others, not so much. It's a bizarre game of Musical Chairs for Plants that's existing in my home lately. Today, the large spath (-iphyllum) moved into my bedroom atop the armoire. (I am concerned that having two plants on the armoire is too much.) The smaller philodendron is now on the dresser in the guest room. And there needs to be another plant in Sydney's room. Actually, I think I need a couple more plants, but ones that won't grow arms and legs that have to hang. I need vertical plants. A new mission.

End of January 1; still good

As first days of the year go, I think this one was okay: I was permitted to stay in bed until 8 a.m. I was offered a Starbucks drink. We tried a new Mexican restaurant. The weather was much cooler and drier, thereby making my hair manageable. Sydney was entertained by her LeapPad and iPod, and I didn't here anything about doing something fun for her. Oliver and Daisy were lovebugs all day. My "Be Smarter" philosophy is working. I had a cooking conversation with my husband, during which he did not laugh at me once. I've declared war on the person who walks their big dog around the back of my building and doesn't pick up the big dog's big poops.
My list for the second day of the year isn't too bad, either. I need to take down all my Christmas decorations, pay rent, pay a couple bills, hit the grocery store, find a new pediatrician for Sydney, call State Farm about my cracked windshield, and find someplace to get my car inspected for Texas registration.
About that last one, I received an e-mail from the state of Arizona today reminding me that my auto registration will be up the end of the month. I obviously won't be paying them, but it did serve as a reminder that I need to get the car registered somewhere, and it might as well be in Texas. Texas requires a plethora of (or just two) tests, as well as an in-person registration at one of the county tax branches ... or something like that. Ugh. Something else cool for my list for January.
Also, there's a shop across the street that offers waxing and mani/pedis. As I said to Brian, "Wait. Eyebrows and a pedicure in the same place right across the street from my house?!?! Suddenly, my Tuesday is shaping up quite nicely!!" He vetoed, but I may sneak in there anyway.