Ma'am, I'm Afraid I Have Some Terrible News...

* I am happy to report...

that for the first year since I began blogging, I will not be participating in this year's NaBloPoMo (posting every day in November), which means your reader won't be bogged down with senseless drivel about the latest shoes I've found.




You are very welcome.

But to kick off November, here's a post written like I think...



 * "Ma'am, I'm Afraid I Have Some Terrible News... "

I can't imagine anything worse...

wait I can--

I often contemplate the "which child would I save?" scenario... 

but I digress, already, in the opening sentence.

Sundays kill me. Mentally and physically. I often want to come home, feed everyone and then tuck into a cozy bed for an hour (or eight).  A couple of Sundays back, I did it. I took two children and "The Gruffalo" movie with me, even though it was crazy-sunny outside for the first time in days.

I fell asleep instantly, but it was fitful. My brain wouldn't slow down and in my semi-consciousness, I seemed to be struggling to remember what day it was and where I was supposed to be that evening.

I was awakened by the door bell.

Why are doorbells always so shrill and frightening?

Knowing I probably had a crumpled-sheets print on my face, I chose to look out the window first.

There, parked behind my car was a police vehicle

and there at my front door,

stood a policeman.

When our friend Dave was killed on his motorcycle, his wife was at a school meeting and so their 16 year-old daughter opened the door to the policemen. One stayed with her while others were dispatched to the school to tell his wife, D.

I looked back at my bed... only one child and the house is eerily quiet.

I looked again at the policeman standing outside at my unanswered door.
Where did my family go? Were they driving? Were they killed? ALL of them?! Did they walk somewhere on these treacherous, England back-country roads?

Are any of them still alive?

The door opened.
I could see my husband's long and very alive legs. That's when my brain finally kicked in... the uniformed police was Ian. Our friend.
His wife T (with the gorgeous blue eyes) had sent him over with a party invitation.




He's been told to never wear his uniform over here again--I don't care how sexy he looks in it.

*My family is playing Beatles Rock Band.

Miss Ky is always insistent on being the lead singer.  

A d a m a n t  about having the microphone.  

Diva.  

Did anyone else suddenly get a craving to put on some Adam Ant music?

*Something else this strong-willed child is determined about:  

sugar.

We went to London and had a picnic lunch with some other families. Someone brought chocolate biscuits (cookies) which Miss Ky wanted to hoard for her very own. We ordered her to put several of the packages back.

10 minutes out of the car park, an announcement was heralded from the back seat by Son #2,

"May Day! May Day! Clean up on aisle three!!!"

We turned back to see Miss Ky with a single coating of chocolate on all exposed skin parts.

HOW does this happen?

The little beast smuggled biscuits, that's how.

*The Hubby is singing the Beatles Birthday Song. It's frightening. Something between Michael Stipes and The B52s... not in a good way, since I happen to like REM and The B-52s.

*Tomorrow begins another week of packing lunches; running insanely through our over-scheduled routine; mountains of muddy football laundry; church training meetings, school activities...

did I mention laundry? Yay.

Yes, I would miss it all 

if I suddenly had the police at my door.

The lavender leotard is because someone fancies herself the "Princess and the Pea"- sensitive against all things itchy.
I am perfectly aware it does not match.

Hope you all had a happy Halloween, from our chaos to yours!

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Great British Advertising-Specsavers

Pearls of Wisdom or Not

• When the leg & body hair removal cream says "Not for faces", they mean it. The good side is, when the blistering goes away, I may have the lovely skin only acquired after an expensive chemical peel. In the meantime, my Halloween scary face is set.

• After spending a week in bed horribly ill, it is a bad idea to attempt to move heavy furniture no matter how much it's placement has bothered one during one's confinement. The good side is, a couple more days in bed will usually help the muscle spasms in one's back.

• A week plus in bed can help one take stock of their blessings.   Mine are: I own enough BBC and ITV Jane Austen films to get me through such a time; my 12 year-old can cook basics like mac and cheese and frozen pizza to throw at his unsupervised siblings home on school holiday; iphone (insert Heavenly Choir here) to check email and send txt messages to the kids like, "It's getting a little wild down there", "Go outside, the sun is shining!" and "Could you please bring me another water bottle?"; I happen to like broth and water--great blessing.

My first foray back into the world was yesterday-- to run a Harvest Festival at our church. A Harvest Festival that had been calendared the previous year by the Activity Committee that was no longer, so it was passed on to "the youth" which loosely translates, "to the youth leaders" which, if broken down further, means "the youth leaders that are women who won't shirk their responsibilities" of which there are two, myself and my counselor.

Being one of the few key holders, I had the honor of opening the building, getting the heat going and setting up. The other youth leaders showed at the start time of the event.

One of the highlights was a Chili Cook-off.

In New Mexico when you have a chili cook-off, you kind of know what to expect. Deep red-brown, meaty chili with or without beans. "Hot" means sweat drips down into your ears while you eat it.
Here, chili could be spaghetti bolognese or a fish-based sauce with wheat. 
If there's green chili added to the base, it should be labeled as "hot".

While passing out cornbread (that's a whole other post, but believe me, explaining one-by-one to over fifty people that "it is NOT cake and yes, should be eaten with chili" gets old really quick), my daughter tugs on my pants leg and looks up at me to say, "I threw up". I believed her, her breath wreaked of it.

Being one of the few key holders, I stayed for another hour and forty-five minutes longer and was the last to clean up and lock the building while my daughter sat in the car with a bucket--after being in bed myself for 10 days. I'm about to throw my exclusive church key at a few of our leaders...


when my face has healed.

Happy Halloween!!

F.O.U.R.

"Anything I've done up till May 27th 1999 was kind of an illusion, existing without living. My daughter, the birth of my daughter, gave me life." ---Johnny Depp

I get it. 

Happy Birthday my sweet, funny little girl.