The End Is Here

Don't look at your calendar, it's not December 21, 2012.

The end of November Blog Posting Month has finally arrived.

I'd like to thank you wonderfully patient people who allowed me to clog up your readers and drivel on about nothingness. I'd like to hug you for actually commenting on my nothingness and for the sweet, supportive emails. I'd like to kiss you...

if you looked like Simon Lappin
(just joking, Hubby)

I'd also like to say all of this writing was good for me, but it will take a few days of solitude for me to really say something like that (with a little feeling behind the words).

I honestly missed reading. REALLY missed it. I look forward to catching up.

oh. I just realized I missed my 3-year Blogiversary as well...

You and I? We're friends.
Only a good friend would've stuck by me when I was posting nonsense.

Thank you.

Congrats to all of you who successfully completed the NaBloPoMo challenge and to all of you who may have chosen the better path-- actually paying attention to your loved ones instead.

Now that the end is here, go out and play!
Or eat some chocolate,
I've got a tree to decorate with my kids.

29 Bottles of Crazy on the Wall...

Twenty-nine post in as many days...

It would be sad to go out sniveling, so let's see if I can wrap this month up with a bang, shall we?

What I didn't write about this November:

• The many times my newly housebroken child wee'd on the floor-- and then ran through it in stockinged feet, leaving pee footprints across my tiled floors. and carpet.
  

• How my children managed to avoid Typhoid Mary one Sunday and we're one of the few families unaffected by Hand, Foot and Mouth disease. (oh dear, where's some wood to touch???)
  

• I didn't tell you that the days leading up to Thanksgiving were some of the hardest I've had to deal with this year. The phone rang incessantly and my Wednesday cooking/baking went unfinished as I rushed to a woman's side. Her husband that was recovering so well from a cancer removal surgery had an infection and the hospital called to tell her to prepare herself for his death. He's still fighting as I write this post.

• On the same day, #1 Son phoned to say he was tackling the 15-hour drive to my parents as they rushed their beloved little doggy to a specialist. He's 17 years old (the dog) and the absolute center of their world. My Step-dad (who I have written about and love dearly) was a mess. Knowing he was a mess was the "straw" for me. "Petey" survived the surgery to repair 3 herniated disks, is recovering at home and Oldest Son arrived safely.
  

• Husband is desperately behind on his two University Online courses and because of it, it's like he's deployed except that I still have to do his laundry. and buy enough groceries. and his alarm clock wakes me at 4.45.

• We spent a small fortune to take the kids to something that people told us we "HAVE to go see" while in England. They grumbled through it and we drove home not speaking to each other. Fun times. I'm not listening to anyone else when they give us "tips".
  

• Remember when I moved house after Christmas last year? I have dreaded unpacking the hastily packaged Christmas items...with good reason. Three broken items so far in the couple of boxes opened.

This may all seem like I am sniveling,
but if that's what you read, you've missed the point.
Let me summarize:

• All of my children are well-- well enough to grumble, ruin my carpet and drive hundreds of miles to hold a Grandpa's hand.

• My woman-friend's children are all here, fussing and fighting as usual, but since her hubby is doing surprisingly well, she's comfortable in telling them to "Go home!".

• My parents have dodged that inevitable bullet one more time and are home with the dog with nine lives.

• Oldest Son is healthy, safe and has survived (one of the two) first holidays without us and the Hubby is here (distracted, but here) for the holidays.

• I am not moving. I don't have to pack.

• I am one blog post away from never doing NaBloPoMo again.

See?
It's all in how you look at it.

My life is half-full.

Never Write Never

WITH ONLY TWO DAYS REMAINING of NaBloPoMo,
I was going to tell you that there have been only two days that I felt pressured to get out here and post. I was prepared to argue that even though it's not very nice to clog up people's readers, that for the most part people are tolerant.

But something in the back of my mind was nagging at me, so I did a little research...
Here's what I said at the end of this 30-day post insanity last year (I'll save you from clicking on the actual post):


"Never agree to 30 posts in 30 days.
I mean, if you can do it, more power to you. But if you find you're typing while your children's giggles are slipping by, it's probably not worth it.

A couple of things I learned from being out here each day is:

There sure is a lack of tolerance for each other's creativity.

For instance, the music divide. Wow. Who would've guessed people could get so upset about music being on a blog? Here's my theory (and you'll notice my music was turned off a month ago), a person's blog is an expression of who they are. Music and the careful timing of songs with posts MAY be the one joyful, self-indulgent thing they did all day. Is it so hard for the anti-music folks to just turn the volume down? And yes, sometimes the music conflicts with a video or with your own itunes player... yaddah yaddah yaddah, but if it's so much bother, don't go there. If their blog is SO intriguing that you can't stand to miss a post, well, I think you know what you need to do.

The second thing was the Nablopomo. I really, seriously considered NOT doing it because for some reason people feel that they must read every post to be a loyal follower. That's a huge demand for someone reading 30+ blogs daily. Then I realized, I didn't start blogging to gain readers, I started it as an outlet for some repressed emotions. I decided I wasn't going to freak out if people didn't make it over for every post (to be truthful I didn't make it over for every post-- some were scheduled). I watched followers drop like flies and my feelings weren't hurt. I understood.

So, in summary. It was good. and bad. and I'm not doing it next year."

Yeah... so my memory is not so good. This is a terrific argument for journaling your memories, but an even better one to read what you write occasionally. I will tell you what my plans are for NEXT year:

I plan to read blogs for the month. That's what I'm missing the most about this go. I can't believe how much I missed hearing about what was happening in everyone else's world.

I wonder if I will have an easier time remembering this if I have it tattooed to my forehead.

When's the Last Time You Gave in to the Silly Urge?

This post may self-destruct, since I'm still waiting for permission to post this picture (patience is my New Year's goal -- for the 25th year running)...

21st bday celebration

(I'm thankful that my son is recovering from his heartbreak)

I'm thankful that all of the terrible things that were happening the last few days paused (for the most part) until my family had Thanksgiving dinner. No details, but yesterday was the first day this week I didn't have to close myself off in a room to take a cry break.

I should take a cue from #1 Son and do something completely unpredictable and silly. I mean seriously, when's the last time your very-male child donned a blue wig and some lippy?

He's SO gonna regret emailing this picture to me.

What Are You Thankful For?

Wishing you wealth of family and friendships and a peaceful time to reflect on the things you are grateful for. Happy Thanksgiving!

My Least Favorite Holiday Song

On the last day of prepping,
(Because) my child's school is locked:

Twelve shoes a muddying
eleven calls a ringing
ten (blog) words a leaping
nine migraines threatening
eight yams a mashing
seven tantrums screaming
six loads of laundry

Five hungry guests

four Pumpkin pies,
three tired kids,
two roasted birds
and a mom wondering will it all end?

This is what happens when I am faced with a locked play group gate on the day I had planned to make my pies, cornbread for stuffing and to roast the first turkey... rubbish poetry.

Hope your wednesday is better!

You May Have Noticed...

...that it takes approximately 7 days of daily posting before I run out of deep, intellectual, thoughtful things to say. It's unfortunate that November has 30 days instead of 7.

The good news is, in less than one week my brain will recover.

********

The wrapper on my turkey this year...


seriously?

*********

The novelty of having a tree-lined garden may be wearing off. I have small mounds of leaves dotting the countryside that instead of being bagged or binned this week, are happily scattering in the wind right now.

*********

I didn't think it was possible, but Miss Ky is growing more obstinate. I can hardly wait for the teen years.
The odds of her making it to the teen years have just greatly been reduced (in the last 10 minutes) since she just broke into my Ghirardelli dark chocolate (brought all the way from Florida as my carry-on item) (yes, there was that much) and wasted it on a white sofa.

*********

Riddle:

What do vampires and my church calling have in common?

Abandoned husband and practically orphaned children are not eligible to answer.

********

Remember my turkey recipe? The one that has you putting a rub on the bird three days before cooking?
My turkeys are still not thawed.
This year could be a repeat of the side-dish only fiasco from last year.


*********

Perfect example of stupidity: I just posted 6 days worth in one post.
What's left to write about in the remaining six days?






Great, now I'm taking requests.

Magnitude Gratitude Monday

I am grateful for...

eggnog.

Any kind, any where. Basic, Pumpkin, Gingerbread, Cinnamon, homemade, store bought, with or without raw salmonella.

I love egg nog.

Could be why I am no longer a size 8.

What do you welcome back this time of year?

Thought for the Day

Women gather together to wear silly hats, eat dainty food, and forget how unresponsive their husbands are. Men gather to talk sports, eat heavy food, and forget how demanding their wives are. Only where children gather is there any real chance of fun. ~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960


This quote was not written by anyone who has ever been to my house at bedtime.

"Where's the turkey, Chuck?"

We haven't really been celebrating Thanksgiving.

The kids are in school until it's nearly dark, so T-day is just me preparing an overly large meal to clean up on a regular day.
Last year in our house with the non-existent kitchen, I couldn't pony up and cook anything.

You think I'm exaggerating.
Our kitchen consisted of one wall with cabinets (5 total) and a tiny work space consumed by a microwave and stovetop. The adjoining wall was the sink and refrigerator.
The other side? There was no other side. The stairs went up where the other half of the kitchen should've been. My friend is still making fun of me for thinking we could ever be happy in a house with no kitchen.

The thought of starting three days early to manage all of the things that had to go in our toaster-sized oven really overwhelmed me, and that's quite a feat because I LOVE cooking, so I didn't. Ok, I did attempt it, but last year our friends went home having had a dinner of side dishes. The oven gave up the ghost mid-turkey.

Do you own a jelly roll pan? Could you hold it up please? The width of that pan was too large for my oven. All of my 13X9 pans were too wide for my oven. The smallest turkey available would sit on the bottom rack and take the entire space. Only one pie could be cooked at a time. Then the thing didn't even cook the little turkey I put in it. To top the whole holiday off, our dorm-sized refrigerator died the Monday before and the landlord had warned us that when it did, she wasn't replacing it. Fun times.

In the past, this time of year would make me a little melancholy.

Twice since moving overseas, I was mentally crippled by the thought that my two youngest would never attend a school T-day lunch wearing Pilgrim hats or big, colorful construction paper turkeys on their little noggins. It's not a true childhood if you haven't made spice drop turkeys or been a little disappointed that you couldn't play the Indians in the pageant.
Who cares if my children have traipsed through castles galore and stood in the rain for a photo next to Stonehenge? No, "Gobble Gobble Gobble" coming from our TV, no "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving", no cold rubbery stuffing in their cafeteria lunch? Where's the justice?


Then there's Black Friday.

I hate crowds. I hate being jostled and elbowed and tackled over a $20.00 dvd player, but I hate missing that energy more.
There's no black Friday in a country that doesn't celebrate Over-eating Thursday.




It's a new year. This year I have


the Aga.
And the convection oven.
And the workspace of a restaurant.
I am a happy little cooker.

I have invited the entire county of Norfolk at this point and I am the proud owner of several bags of spice drops (we will begin Pilgrim and or turkey hats this week).
The kids have filled out holiday forms and will miss a day of school.
The Hubby is home and not deployed.
Warm, fuzzy blessings abound.

I'll still miss that early shopping when sane people
are in bed, but you can do that for me, right?
Put things in your cart you don't need only because they're on sale, and then turn to wave in the general direction of England.
It'll be like we're up at 4.45 am together!

In the famous words of Charlie Brown's Marcie (with my adaptation , of course), "But Thanksgiving is more than eating, [peeps] ... Those early Pilgrims were thankful for what had happened to them, and we should be thankful, too. We should just be thankful for being together [in cyberspace]. I think that's what they mean by 'Thanksgiving,' Charlie Brown."

Stop Barking, I'm Here

Well throw the doggy a bone. I didn't think it could be done, but I am back from the cinema feeling terrible for Jacob! still very much Team Edward though.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, throw that rock from off your body and...

...pick up a copy of New Moon at your local library (thought I was going to say "run to the movies", didn't you?).

****No spoilers here****

I have no idea how these movies come across for the folks who don't eat, drink and breathe Twilight. Negative reviews I've read are from people who haven't read the saga and realistically, a movie should be able to stand on it's own, but I can't help but feel that a movie critic should at least have a little background on the movie he's going to watch (something other than the cheesy preceding film filled with strange stuttering, bad hair and even worse makeup).

Read that run-on sentence like it was meant to be read-- from a breathless, excited movie goer.

Son #2 and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and have intentions of seeing it a few more times. Part of my enjoyment was watching the teenage girls-- loved their energy. I also feel like Chris Weitz is to be congratulated for sticking VERY close to the book and even though he kept a little of Hardwicke's artsy spin on the film, it was done in a way that was more believable. Loved several scenes and wished I had a remote to rewind them, but out of respect for those of you STALLING, I won't discuss them just yet.


Have you been yet? What did you feel was improved ?

When commenting, please be careful not to spoil for anyone-- you could just email me!

When was the last time a book series or movie had you marking days off of a calendar?

Most importantly: Exactly WHEN is Eclipse scheduled to come out?

What if Snow White Had Been Given...

...one of these?
You are looking at a Howgate Wonder, grown locally. I buy them at a carboot (flea market) by the box (which is actually only about 5-6 apples, they're so big). They taste wonderful and are supposedly good for cooking. None of ours ever make it that far. An apple a day...

That's a large Braeburn next to a Howgate.

If Snow White had eaten one of these, all the Princes in the world could've kissed her and it wouldn't have made a bit of difference.





I'm thinking of another apple right now...

In less than 7 hours this Twimom is off to New Moon! Let's see if Chris Weitz can manage to make a dog-lover out of me (good luck, I'm Team Edward all the way!).

When are you going?

Did I Mention...

...that I met Simon Lappin?


Fine, moving on...

To join in on the "thankful" theme:

I'm thankful for Wednesdays, because it means I only have two more days of packed lunches to make.

I'm thankful for the Hubby who texts me to say, "How about picking up pizza on your way home?" Not so thankful that he ordered one pizza covered in jalapenos and now my car smells bad.

Hmmmm, not feeling so thankful that my calves must be ginormous in the world of boots because every pair I tried on had to have a shoe horn applied behind my knee to zip (and at one point I thought I had triggered a heart attack, I was working so hard to smash my leg into the tiny strip of leather).

Oh, and I'm thankful that despite it being more logical to go to Tesco before Miss Ky was out of play school, I waited and took her with me. NOT thankful that I now had her in the store, pulling clothing off the racks while I fought for personal space in that madhouse, but thankful that if I had gone when I wanted to, I might have been smashed by the tree that was lying across the road.

So to summarize, I'm most thankful that I am not a pancake right now.

What was special about your day?

I Wonder if Celebrity Stalkers KNOW That They're Stalkers?

Isn't Simon Lappin dreamy? Did I mention that he's Scottish?

I can say that here (that he's dreamy, not that he's Scottish-- I could say that anywhere) because Hubby gave up on reading my blog when it became silly. My photo of a photo in the CanaryStore catalog (they don't give the photographer credit, sorry)

When Hubby went away to play in the desert last year, I was forced to utilize his and the kids' season tickets and attend the football matches. I hated to admit I enjoyed myself, but I did and when he returned, he got me my own ticket.

Now I am the Norwich City junkie. It's just fascinating to me that I can watch these guys play on TV and then stand and chat with them at Carrow Road.

Yesterday I had plans to take the family for a surprise cinema evening to see the new "A Christmas Carol" movie when an email came in from the hubby:

"There’s a reserve game tonight at 7:30. It’s against West Ham United.
This one will have Jon Otsemobor and Simon Lappin signing
autographs beforehand at 6:45.
A shame we live so far from Carrow Road."

I responded,

"We live far from Carrow Road? Did you say Simon Lappin?!"

"A Christmas Carol" took an immediate bin dive.

It finally occurred to me about 8.45 when my nose was frozen, ears aching and kids were all still awake, what he had meant by being so far away from Carrow Road. My kids didn't go to bed until 10pm on a school night.



BUT, it was worth it. We had such a good time and I didn't do anything humiliating like star-struck babbling, "I think you're the best player and you should get Man of the Match for every game!"
No, I managed to remain slightly controlled and dignified.

There's still the Christmas party opportunity to embarrass myself.

I should mention here that Hubby's a great sport-- he happily took my picture with Simon last night and joked that I could photoshop the kids out of it.

Grays Have More Fun

Norwich City Goal Keeper, Declan Rudd

When I was younger,

I dreamed big

and didn't see the hurdles other people saw.

A friend and I called Pat Benatar's agent,
and asked if she would consider playing
at our High School Prom.
We weren't discouraged when kindly told she wasn't available.

Norwich City's Manager, Paul Lambert

We called for Thin Lizzy too.

Neither were at our dance.

Now I am older

and I don't dream as big

Midfielders Darel Russell and Simon Lappin

but I also don't see the invisible lines

that may have been drawn between

celebrities, sports stars and

me.

Huge thanks to the Hubby who was good enough
to take a picture of his wife drooling over Simon
(and where did those kids come from? This was supposed to be MY photo)

Because of that,

I have more fun

than the women who don't take risks.

Have you stepped out of your comfort zone lately?

You Might Be A Blogger If...

You know things have gotten out of control
when lying in bed,
at that moment just as the drowsiness hits
you sit straight up,
frantically run down the stairs,
and log on to post something at ten minutes before midnight.

Only someone insane would do that.
Or someone determined to post every day for 30 days.

********************

BT Can You Hear Me, Someone Come and Save Me, SOS

IF you are reading this non post, it is because I am stranded on an island in the Atlantic Ocean (and Blogger scheduler was forced to go on without me).

It's not a tropical island either (duh), so there's no bikini, Hawaiian Tropic, or paper umbrellas adorning my drinks. Chances are good that I am wearing a Mac and Wellies with no need for sunscreen, and there's no pool boy delivering virgin coladas.

Are those violins I hear?

When the weather goes bad over here in England, so does my internet. Something to do with above-ground cables blah blah blah. I bet the rest of the world has internet when the wind blows...

Anyhoo, after a year of grumbling, we finally convinced BT to send us a new router. One that doesn't require that we switch it off for a minute four or five times daily just to get email out. That was a week ago. A. week. ago. In a country where Amazon can deliver your package an hour after you order it (ok, slight exaggeration).

Apparently either BT or Royal Mail don't work as efficiently when the wind blows either.

Please Help. Send cables.

Lucky 13

Friday the 13th used to equal car crash for me...

There was the one in the late 70's where my teenage friend thought she'd drive me home from a bonfire party in the desert and crashed into a car that had been abandoned on the side of the dirt road.

There was also the Friday the 13th in the early 80s. The same friend drove us through an intersection and plowed into a car that was pulling out of a parking lot.

I'm not sure if the roll-over accident on a deserted road somewhere on the Navajo Reservation was on Friday the 13th, but it was the same driver...

My first year away from home, there was the double date I went on with three people I barely knew. After the driver missed a turn in the road and flew over some train tracks, the car came to an abrupt stop-- barely escaping a telephone pole.

You can imagine why the "more mature" me regards this day with a little respect.

I don't consider it an "unlucky" day, because how lucky could one person get? I'm still here.

One of you
will find this November Friday the 13th
a very lucky day...

the winner of the Muddy Bloody giveaway is:
Tara's View Of The World

Congratulations!


If any of you know Tara up in Canada, I'm sure there are no hard feelings here. She's a pastor's wife who hasn't always been treated as kindly as you'd expect people to treat their Pastor's wife. She's recently moved house--while suffering a back sprain-- because their new landlord (just moved to a new town a few months ago) sold the house out from under them. She's got three beautiful (and very active) children and a loving husband. Having met her through our blogs a few years ago, I sincerely consider her my friend. Congrats again Tara, you deserve a little pampering!

Thank you everyone for playing. Two chunks of advice:

• Try this facial. Muddy H2O Chocolate or Chocolate Blueberry. You can buy single packs and there are retailers all across the U.S.
• Never ride in a car with reckless teen. Ever. And if you're stupid enough to do it once, certainly never do it again. and again. and again.

Have a safe and happy Friday!

Drum Roll Please ...

...as I unveil my most recent portrait.

I have gained a few years (thought I was going to say "weight" didn't you!). I am also getting much grayer, but I think I take a lovely portrait, don't you?





Yes, Miss Ky and I had our first Mother/Daughter facials, and I thought it was important enough to share with the world.

This isn't just any facial, either--

It's MUDDY H2O Chocolate Blueberry mask!! I had to forewarn Miss Ky not to try to eat it, but with the honey mixed in, it sure smells good!

If you recall (or not) when I first told you about this mask I used a testimonial from another blogger (who has gone private so I can't link to her). She had said that in her marriage, where a blond goes to being a red-head and her husband didn't notice, she was sold when after a Muddy H2O mask, he stopped dead in his tracks and said, "Your skin looks terrific!"

Miss Ky and I washed our masks off and I finished making dinner. At the table the Hubby said, "Is that your skin? No makeup? It's glowing!" so does that mean... never mind, I'll take the compliment.

I'm sold on this product, people!!

When Heidi (of Gabriela and Heidi, founders of Muddy H2O) emailed me to say she was coming to London, I turned my schedule upside down to go meet her in person. We had a great time.
I've got pictures of us in front of the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge, but if you think I'm posting them, you're crazy.
Heidi is pixie-sized and standing next to her in a photo was a really bad idea on my part.

Now, a whole day galavanting around London with great company (her husband is as charming as she is!) was enough for me, but she brought me MORE goodies from Muddy-- including Pit Powder and Pit Stop, which the Hubby and I both love. (Please... check it out)

So, it's your turn to have great things come your way.

Leave me a comment. I have a little Muddy H2O love I'm going to send a lucky person... and if that's not enough? I am including a British copy (movie cover) of New Moon to read while you're making your skin pretty, AND I'll include some Cadbury (only the British Cadbury) hot chocolate to drink while reading the book as you make your skin pretty.

You don't have much time-- sorry, some crazy person with great looking skin set the rules. You have until the next post (tomorrow) goes up.
Good luck!

Because I'm Apparently a Joiner

With NaBloPoMo happening, I don't have time to answer the update emails I receive from everything I've joined in the past, so I'd like to address them here if that's alright.

Shelfari folks: Should you read (this) book? Well of course you should. Good or bad you can't go wrong reading a book so stop stalling and pick the stinkin' thing up. This even applies to Julie and Julia that I anticipated as eagerly as the arrival of our fourth child but then was so disappointed reading it that I had to write a scathing book review-- a first for me.

Face Book: I am so glad your farm is doing well and the mafia has promoted you, but I don't know if I'll be much help with either one (and please tell me where you rent your spare time because mine never stretches far enough to play games). Oh, and I'm really not interested in friending abusive ex-boyfriends, but thank you for asking.

Blurb: Of course I remember I have a book in progress. Just like I remember that I have unfinished crocheting from 10 years ago; about 12 half-completed scrapbooks; four books with book marks on my bedside table (and three magazines purchased recently that haven't even had a page turned yet); several items in my laundry room waiting for mending or superglueing; photos uploaded to ASDA, Snapfish and iphoto to have printed....

Disney, Children's Place, Clean Play Edited DVDs, Seriously Chai: You're right, those are some great sales I wouldn't want to miss. Too bad I'm going to though.

LDS Living: Bless you. You've saved Family Home Evening for a few years now.

Creative Memories: I don't want to be a consultant anymore, no matter how much you offer me in my sign-up kit. You see, as much as I LOVED doing CM in the states, it won't be the same over here. You insist I have to sell to people with APO addresses like myself and I don't hang with military -- living and functioning in a little America goes against the whole reason we choose overseas bases (I also had a panic attack when I got to the book keeping part of things the one day I did start filling out your contract just for giggles). I do believe in gathering our memories and keeping them safe, but I have no desire to take up accounting again.

And last but not least,

Spammers Unite! Could you all please just get together and give me one all-purpose email? If I have any body parts I need enlarging, watches that need selling, little blue pills to refill, links to be clicking on or hot live females, I could just go to one place. So much easier. Thank you for your concern for my lifestyle though, it is very considerate of you to flood my Spam box (thank goodness for Gmail filters) with your fears for me.

I hope you (updates) understand. This posting every day for a month has triggered creative writing juices I thought had escaped along with the amniotic fluid from five births. I'd rather consider the (fictional-but very real to me) woman that is nagging me in my sleep to tell her story. She's becoming rather insistent and this morning I couldn't even have a coherent conversation with the family because of the swirling story line that won't go away...

Blogger Friends: Your emails, comments and posts feed that creative beast-- so please, keep it coming!

How is NaBlaPoMo affecting you this month?
What useless drain on your time have you given up?

Head Out On The Highway

The all-time strangest international call I've received yet:

Oldest Son:
So hey, guess what I'm doing.

I'm recalling a recent call that began with, "So, I'm in the hospital" and ended with "H1N1" (he was in the hospital for testing, they quarantined him to his apartment).

Me: In the hospital having needles poked into you?

Oldest Son: Nope. I'm doing 81 miles per hour on a Texas highway". He lives in New Mexico

For the benefit of those just tuning in, my oldest son who is 21 years old struggles with some pretty heavy depression moments (which luckily seem to be decreasing in frequency as he ages). While he was in high school, I lived in constant fear of what I thought was inevitable...
This year, he had a very dramatic breakup and for a few months now we've been riding a very strange, calm wave in anticipation of breaking up on shore.
He never mentions her.


First thought in my head is this call is a goodbye, he intends to drive insanely fast and crash his car.

But he sounds energized.

Me: Wwwhyyyy are you doing 81 mph on a highway in Texas?

He's going to see his friend for his birthday. He's fine. He's excited about this little break so it's safe to nag...

"Are you sure your truck is in good enough condition to be doing those speeds? How long since you've check the tread on those tires? Isn't it illegal over there to drive while talking on the phone? Do you have a bluetooth on?! Do you have any money in case you break down? What about the CV joints, are they doing ok? What is the speed limit there, anyway?!"

I'm nothing if not thorough,

even at nagging.

Do you think he'll call me on the way back home?

At Least There's A Tour

The 11th hour and still nothing...



This is the ugly side of NaBloPoMo.

When it's late and the bed is calling and nothing has been
written because of the insane day.




At 6 am I found myself slapping my way through the dark to reach the phone (that I couldn't quite remember it's location). When I found it, the Hubby who was also in a very deep sleep was beating his alarm clock trying to get the ringing to stop -- I couldn't remember which button to push to answer the phone.
It was his work. The schedule had been changed and he was needed--pronto. In the complete darkness of our room, I thought it was the still the middle of the night.

Miss Ky was now awake.

A boy got up.

One boy was off to the bus stop at 8.00; 2 others off at 8.20; drove Miss Ky to play group at 9.00.

Cue the marathon meeting from 9.30am until 11.30 when I had to leave to fetch the wild one from play group. Then I headed back to the meeting--with Little Mermaid lunch box in tow (Miss Ky's, not mine).





We left that meeting at 3.15.

There was then the boy/bus/football pickup, a quick run to Tesco for bread and a eagerly anticipated DVD that was NOT released like iTunes lead me to believe,


friends over for dinner...



belly-shaking laughter until 10.30 pm and wishes for a safe drive home as the temperature begins dropping to freezing.

There needs to be about 4 more hours in each day.

Today there were no pictures taken of the fog that blankets our house every chilly morning...
or sun sparkling on the wet leaves that suffocate our driveway.
I'll have to make up for a day with no photos. But the great ending of the day means there are no regrets.

It has occurred to me that I haven't posted photos of the once very neglected garden. It still has another season of work to go, but it's heaven. These are all from October.


So what'd you do today?

Oops I did it Again

...no, not head into a blog post with a really annoying song, but I got too twisty for you.

Sorry about the confusion. There are a couple who found their way to MUDdy, bloody related posts, but for the most of you-- time's an issue because we're all *trying *to *post *every *day.

Just remember to swing by on Thursday the 12th, it will all be explained then.

*****************************

Miss Ky in the back of the car: "I'm singing too."

Me, "pop"ping out to BBC1 (closest thing to rocking out): "Oh yeah? You like this song? It's by Cheryl Cole"

Miss Ky: "Oh! I LOVE Cheryl Cole, she's my favourite!"

Mommy doesn't share your sentiments dear, but I love you for loving your music.

(Miss Ky's other favs are Beyonce, Alesha Dixon and Alexandra Burke)

****************************

Last night Joe McElderry performed Circle of Life from The Lion King on The X Factor. Miss Ky was transfixed by the dancers...

"Look! Those girls are pretty. They have Sleeping Beauty dresses!"

Pink lights bouncing off twirling ruffles has sold this girl. The camera zooms in on Joe, "And look! There's the prince!"


Joe, you have a very young fan that considers you a prince.

Who cares if you don't win the X Factor, that should be enough right there.


Photo from The Mirror, UK

495

Update on Number One Son: He sent me TWO very sincere text message "thank you"s and phoned me to make sure I got them. He's forgiven.

This is my 495th Blog post

For those of you die-hards that didn't erase me from your reader (thank you PM, I know you used to really dislike this reader-overload time of year), I am having a celebration/giveaway for my 500th post!!

Thursday, November 12th will be my 500th post.

The post of honour will contain fascinating information about MUD or BLOOD or BOTH
and I will be giving away a prize of MUDDY or BLOODy-related items.

I'm envisioning the stampede already.

Ok, seriously. You will be very pleased, not disgusted by my prize.

Hmmmm... still too cryptic? Are you kidding?

HINT: The key words have been mentioned several times throughout my previous 494 blog posts-- the most recent dirt (mud) being dished in September.

RULES: Folks that comment on the celebratory post (500th, Thursday the 12th, keep up with me, will you?) BEFORE the 501st post goes up (on Friday the 13th), will be entered to win.

BONUS: You clever bloggers that actually take the time to decipher my little riddle of "mud" and "blood" and comment on the post(s)most likely to be to what I am referring, will have double entries on (each) post that you leave a comment declaring you have found one of my favourite things. Those comments can begin now and must be completed before the 500th post (the celebratory one, remember? Thursday the 12th) is published.

It's getting complicated, I don't want to play....

Disclaimer:
Let's be realistic.

It is NaBloPoMo where blogtime is precious, so don't go reading EVERY single verbose post that mentions these either of these two words.

ONE comment for Blood and ONE for Mud will get you double entries on each one.

• ReCaP: Comment on Thursday, Nov. 12th.
  
• For bonus entries, comment now until the 12th on any post that may be referring to Bloody or Muddy things I love.
  

If you're still stumped,
call me.

ONE prize winner. I always lose my mind and want to send everyone something. That statement is for me, not anyone else.

What two cryptic words
would you use to describe
some of your favourite things?

Careful How You Treat Your Mama

Number One Son is especially grumpy being confined to his house on an H1N1 quarantine.

He doesn't want us to call him in case he's resting, and when he calls us (and his Grandma), he gets irritated when we ask all the usual questions.

Today's call:

"I'm just calling to let you know I'm still alive."

"O.K., thanks for that, but you don't sound any better."

Heavy sigh that I'm assuming is accompanied with eye rolling.

"What have you eaten?"

"Cereal"

"No soup? No veg, no fruit?"

Sigh, "Will you call Grandma?"

"You want me to call her internationally?"

"Yeah. If I call her she will keep me on the phone doing the 'What have you eaten?' thing."

(subtle, son)

In our family, food is love.

• I can go for days without having a decent conversation with the Hubby, but if I make him a hot dinner every night with enough for the next day's lunch, I know he will feel loved.

• I pack the kids' lunches like they're going on a 10-day trek through the wilderness. It's how I love.

• Hubby makes his to-die-for cheesecake just for me (usually when I give birth to a child, there's got to be an easier way to get this cheesecake).

• When the kids are feeling affectionate, they will share the sweets they've hoarded away in their rooms.

It's our life.

So, worried about the swiney mess suffering all alone in his apartment (which is furnished better than my house) I rang my old favourite pizza place in NM and asked them to take my sick little boy some love food.
I also suggested we just put a tip on the credit card right then, but the voice on the phone insists that the Son will have to sign the slip.

"Um, I'm sending you to a house quarantined with Swine Flu, do you really want him to use your pen?" He did.

I ring the GrumpMeister:

"In thirty minutes, answer your door."

"What?! Oh! What?! (grumble grumble)..."

"I ordered you a pizza and when they bring it you have to sign the receipt."

"Grumble grumble...(big pause) ...how much do you want me to tip him?"

I know, in about an hour after the warm stringy bits of cheese kerplunk their way down into his unloved belly he will be thinking warm, loving thoughts about his mother.

I hope his memory is REALLY good about this time too because when I'm ninety and messing my own diapers? THIS is the kid I'm going to insist on living with. Paybacks.

Fawkes on the Run

On November 5 in the year 1605, England held a celebration for the opening of Parliament. Guy Fawkes, in protest over the Protestant leadership's treatment of Catholics, conspired to ignite a revolution by using gunpowder to blow up the building. Oh, and he wanted to include in his great bonfire, the Royal Family. As kindling.

There was probably a more diplomatic way to spark a protest, but what do I know? I didn't live then, so I can't really say if this was a last resort effort to get someone to listen. I know as a wife and mom, one may take desperate measures to fire up those around her.

Unfortunately for Mr. Fawkes he was caught before he could destroy Parliament and now, over 400 years later we celebrate his determination (to end the torturing and hangings of Catholics) by having a grand bonfire and fireworks complete with a burning effigy of the ill-fated chap.

What's not to understand?

Remember, remember the fifth of November,

The gunpowder treason and plot,

I know of no reason

Why the gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.

I think for most, bonfire night means refueling friendships by having a little outdoor party with drink and music.
For my kids, it means fireworks and cheesy light up toys.
For me, it's a little macabre when they throw Guy on the barbie, made worse by watching children happily dragging their Guy Fawkes effigy up for consideration in a contest just before throwing him into the bonfire.

If you're feeling a little deja vu-ey, you're o.k. I did write about this last year and had pictures to share, but this year it's just me and the kids and the hubby in our cozy house.
Don't worry, we're not protesting. We like a good effigy burning as much as anyone, our bonfire is just on another night.

Good times, people. Living here is a blast (sorry, I couldn't help myself).

Read more at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/allison-kilkenny/guy-fawkes-protesters-fin_b_346720.html&cp

I'm Not a Doctor But I Play One on the Phone

So, Number One Son calls up, "You're a mother..."

Well...thank you...?

Apparently "Mother" in his eyes means one can diagnose illness and prescribe the appropriate treatment over the phone.

I diagnosed, from 5000 miles away, that he was suffering the beginning stages of H1N1 and prescribed what he should do.

He is a young man with a mind of his own. I really wish he just wouldn't waste my time and energies if he's not going to listen to what he asks me to tell him.

Two days later, the hospital diagnoses him. I was right. What can I say? I do NOT get paid enough.

Funny thing about all of this?
He was at work AT THE HOSPITAL as a CNA when the fever hit and he WENT HOME TO CALL ME.
Wow.

Now in this same exciting week, I had to postpone my reluctantly-agreed-to Jamie At Home party (I am SUCH a sucker. Please, if you need to sell something, come right here --just follow the giant "S") because so many people have been stricken with this flu.
The consultant admitted she was also feeling poorly and I gave a couple of suggestions, mainly that this is not your general I'll-be-ok-in-a-day-or-two flu.

Her response kind of caught me off guard, "What are you, a Doctor?"
Rude.

I do NOT get paid enough.

Let's Talk Turkey

I was considering, in this 30 days of nothingness posts, that a recipe or two might be considered a post.
What better recipe to share this time of year then the roast turkey I swear by?

My husband has been the Tday guinea pig one time too many as I tried out recipes mild and recipes for the insane. There was the year that I took Martha Stewart's advice and laid stock- soaked cheesecloth over my turkey while it cooked.
What a pain in my backside.
NEVER, ever waste cranberry/pumpkin pie/homemade dinner rolls time basting a cheesecloth every third eye blink.

We now have a set menu with all of the "bests" I have found over the years-- including orange-zested cranberries, Pineapple Sweet Potato Poon, and Chocolate Pecan Pie. Our table is a carnival of flavors peaking with the most flavorful turkey you can imagine.

I wouldn't ever want to be considered insensitive to readers so in fairness, let's first learn how to make a Peanut Butter Tofu Vegetarian Turkey, shall we?




Or not.

Dry-Cured Rosemary Turkey
First Place Turkey in Sunset Magazine's Thanksgiving Recipe contest

Use a turkey that hasn't been infused with broth or butter (why let them have all the fun when you can slide your hand under turkey skin to butter it up yourself?)

3 Tablespoons Sea Salt (or Kosher salt)
3 Tablespoons dried Marjoram
3 Tablespoons dried Thyme
3 Tablespoons dried Juniper berries-- do NOT leave this part out. If I can find them here, you can find them there.
1 Tablespoon black peppercorns
2 teaspoons Anise seeds
1 turkey, 14-15 pounds
12 fresh Rosemary Sprigs (3 inches each)
12 cloves of garlic, peeled
1/2 cup (1/4 lb) unsalted butter at room temp.

Three days before serving, finely grind salt, marjoram, thyme,juniper berries, peppercorns and anise seed.

Remove and discard leg truss from the turkey.
Pull off any lumps of fat.
Remove all "goodies" from turkey cavity (sorry if this sounds patronizing, but my sister-in-law cooked her turkey with the stuff still in place--two years in a row).
Rinse turkey inside and out and pat dry.
Cut off wing tips and reserve for gravy.
Rub herb mixture all over the body and sprinkle any remaining in the cavity.
Cover and chill for THREE days.

Three days up already?

Preheat oven to 325˚ (convection not recommended). Put Rosemary sprigs and garlic inside turkey body cavity. Gently push your hand between the skin and the turkey breast to separate the skin from the breast, fun times people...
Spread about half of the butter under the skin.

Melt remaining butter and brush lightly (don't rub your rub off!) over the top of the turkey.

Coat a V-shaped rack with cooking-oil spray and set in a 12 x 17-inch roasting pan. Place turkey breast down on the rack. Roast for approx. 1 3/4 hours.

Now if you don't believe me regarding the ingredients or just how good this turkey is (or maybe you want the pan gravy recipe that goes with it), pop over here to Sunset's original recipe!

Crumbs, I'm hungry now. I wonder if it's acceptable to have Thanksgiving several times in November?
Gorgeous turkey photo from Monica Buck, Sunset Magazine, November 2005 issue

Eye Can't See You

I'm going to the eye doctor today. I'm tired of squinting at the cinema screen and seeing two full moons once a month (full moons make me a little crazy-- I certainly don't need two).

No easy task getting an appointment in the military medical facilities, but I did it.
Wait, no I didn't, the hubby had to throw his stripes around.

The process goes something like this:

• Begin calling Appointment Line at 7:59 because they open at 8:00.
• Get recording that tells you Appointment Line is closed.
• Call back to get a busy signal

OR

• receive the message telling you that the next available operator will get to you.

Did I mention that each time you listen to a five minute description of what to do if you didn't want the Appointment Line?

• Push more buttons when prompted.
• 8:14 get a live voice who tells you all of the appointments for the day are taken.

Well, that's what you get at the stateside bases.
Here, I learn that all of the appointments for November are now taken.
I called on October 26th.

• After much prodding on my part, I get the live voice to tell me that MAYBE if I call back on Monday (one week away), something will have been cancelled and I can get that-- for sometime in November.

Sexy Guy called two hours later to demand to know why the appointments for dependents are nearly impossible to get. They scheduled me for today. Go figure.

It's no wonder I've gone a year with a chipped tooth and am just now seeing an Optometrist TEN years after my last appointment.

Anyone want to break out into a verse or two of "I can see clearly now..."?

And She's Off...

...to a brilliant start. I nearly forgot to post today.
Today marks the beginning of thirty days of nonsensical posts and me whacking my head against the wall in wonder of why I do this to myself every year.
NaBloPoMo has started again. If you recall last year I said, "Never again", but the really great thing about having brain cells eaten up by five births is that one tends to jump in with both feet to things one shouldn't because one can't really remember what it was like last time (same thing can't be said for the five deliveries-- I remember them vividly and there won't be a sixth!).
So, fair warning: Delete me from your readers now. It won't be pretty. There might be ranting about the XFactor that will mean nothing to you bloggers out of the UK... for example,

WHO decided that Danyl Johnson was the "most hated contestant"? The media?!
The same media that was hedging bets that he'd be the first to go?

Where was the media when we were all demanding Dannii's head when she made the totally inappropriate comment about his personal life? Did THAT look like audience"hate" towards a man that is clearly an exceptional singer?

Don't get me started about how Cheryl and Dannii are fueling the so called "hate" with their comments, "Your arrogance..." "Your cockiness" "You are not connecting with the audience" etc.
WHAT? Last night the hubby and I turned to each other, "Did we miss something?"

BTW Cheryl, it's obvious you don't like Danyl but your nasty little snippets are enough to make me NOT want to buy your music no matter how catchy I find it. Trying to make him appear arrogant and cocky will NOT keep your people in longer.

OH, and Louis comment, "My guys (John and Edward) get all sorts of mean headlines, but they come out every week smiling".
That's because "your guys" are a joke. This competition to them is a joke. Danyl actually wants this-- no wonder it's hard to get on the stage with all the fuss in the press against him.

Danyl, if the media were in our living room with cameras rolling, you might enjoy watching 3 little boys chanting your name at the TV while waiting for the results to be read out and an entire family cheer as you are declared safe. An entire family who sees nothing but a fabulous performer and talented singer.
I imagine that there's many more households like it. It's unfortunate the media can't cover the real news.