Thanks In The Giving

I have a million reasons to be thankful. Some days it just bowls me right over. 

Here is what I am thankful for, right this minute.

(This minute being 1:19 AM!)

My family.

My husband!

He's really is pretty much the cutest.

My sister's wackadoo rendition of the Monk theme song.

That it is Thanksgiving and I can wear olives on my fingers all afternoon.

Barnaby MacDuff's bravado, and Peter Pan's emotional weirdness.

I am thankful that they are healthy, that they are dweebs, and that they are healthy.

I am thankful that I get to be at work at 5:45 AM on Friday. Uh.

I am thankful for bleach wipes and flushable toilet wands.

I am thankful for the hawthorne tree in my back yard.

It may have tried to kill me that one time, but it sure is a beauty!

I am thankful for my kitchen.

I am thankful for my little brother.

I am thankful for squeaky cheese.

I am thankful for my Savior.

I am thankful for my body, and for all of the weird and cool and not-so-cool things it pulls on me from time to time.

I am thankful for Moscow.

I'm thankful for the Smiths!

(Thanks for inviting us to dinner today and letting me be in charge of ALL THE SIDES. Such power!)

I am so thankful for this little house I get to fluff up and decorate.

I am thankful we made it through four years of grad school, that we've paid every bill on time, managed to feed and clothe ourselves, and fake like we're actual grownups or something. I am thankful that during this tough time we have somehow flourished.

I am thankful that my husband is graduating in May.

MaymaymaymaymaymayMAY!

I am thankful that someday I will be somebody's mother.

Sixteen, Sixteen Minutes, Sixteen Minutes Gotta Get It Right

Thank heavens for No Shave November. The stubble!

Every now and then I like to do really nice things for The Holbsplaya. Like tonight, like how I let him take me to a junior high school basketball game. Just because he is so red-headed. 

First I played a fun game where I tried to count the number of boys that had already gotten armpit hair. 

Then I counted the bricks in the wall.

I hummed the Star Wars theme under my breath for a little bit just to see if I knew it.

I finished my can of Diet Dr Pepper and announced somberly, "The soda is gone, time to go home." Then I pestered The Holbs to go out into the lobby and buy me a Diet Coke. He obliged, he really is a good little redhead, and when he came back I told him all of the thoughts I had that he had missed out on while he had left the room. (My thoughts usually warrant narration, my brain is a fascinating place.)

I sipped my soda and thought for a bit about my hair, then about the girl's hair in front of me, and also about her jacket, which was very cute and very red. Then I thought about all the candles I have at home and how I hardly ever light them. I solemnly vowed to light them more often. That made me feel better.

My soda was already half gone, and I was starting to have that funny feeling like I was going to need to find a restroom in about ten minutes. That is a dreadful feeling! 

I asked The Holbs, "How much longerrrrrrrr?" and then frowned down at my boots. Then I had my boots do a little dance for me.

"Man, it is such an advantage being tall!" The Holbs suddenly said, interrupting my two-footed puppet show. "How would you know?" I asked. But then, how would I know either? Basketball games can be such tragic reminders of our own shortcomings!

So I decided to send some harassing text messages to the Bishop, who was sitting three rows behind us. 

Then I decided to practice my comedy routine. My comedy routine is something I'm pretty proud of. I made some highly witty jokes tonight if I do say so myself!

For about the last five minutes I watched the game. You know something, it wasn't so terrible.

At the end of the game we drove over to Mikey's where there were gyros and hummus. Mikey's!

And then I came home and didn't even eat a bowl of the $2 Cocoa Pebbles I got today at the Walmarts. That there is R-E-S-T-R-A-I-N-T my friends.

And then I sat and pondered those darned yams I bought. I wonder what I am doing with them for dinner? 

Under The Influence

Last night while I lay bundled and warm in my bed the flakes began to fall.

In the afternoon I padded around the house in thick sweat pants, fluffing up the corners of my nest, watching the ground slowly disappear under a thick dusting of sugar. I simmered a pot of soup and brought out the heavy boots from storage while The Holbs shoveled the driveway snow.

The dogs ran, biting mouthfuls of snow. Their barks echoed against the snowy sky, they chased and chased until blissfully exhausted, panting and shivering under the wet snow clinging to their fur.

In the night I cranked on the heaters, lit all the candles, pulled out the blankets, turned on the Christmas music. Some knitting and some football and some cold toes in warm socks, and a Monday looming with nowhere to be but in this house, under the influence of snow on snow on snow.

Sir Barnabus MacDufflePants

This is a post about Barney.

Ohh Barney, Barney, Barney.

If ever I need a moment of entertainment I like to look at Peter Pan and see what he can come up with for me. Usually he's doing something weird, like analyzing the pattern of the wood grain on the furniture or sitting forlornly under the bag of doggie toys hung just out of his reach making needy eyes at me. That dog is always thinking about something, you know. You can stare into Peter's beady little eyes and see the depths of the oceans, the heights of the mountains, the eternities of the Heavens, the square root of Pi. He is just a weird little dog.

And then, there's Barney.

Barney is a little bit stupid.

You stare into Barneys eyes and all you see is goofiness.

He is the biggest ball of love and devotion you'll ever meet.

Barnaby MacDuff joined our family on a stupid day in July. I can't really say what possessed us to do it. We were just running around town coming up with random things to entertain ourselves with ("Wanna get a soda?" "Sure!" "Wanna walk the mall?" "Sure!" "Wanna get a dog?" "Why not?") and then there we were, staring into the eyes of the cutest, sweetest, tiniest, funniest little baby Scottie.

He was only barely six weeks old, which is awful, if you know anything about puppy development. We saw that little dude sitting there in that cold metal cage and I just knew he was too little, that he was all alone, that he needed litter mates, and that he really needed a mama.

So we brought that dog home so I could breastfeed him, obviously. I'm really glad we did. He's brought a lot of heart to our little family of four.

When Barnaby sits it is not with the daintiness of Peter Pan, who sits almost in slow motion, his ears perked just-so. If Peter Pan had pinkies they would constantly be up. When Barnaby sits he just collapses onto the ground with a THUNK, legs spewed every which way. Either it is deliberate or not, I haven't decided. Maybe he selects his resting spot ahead of time and then artfully dives into it? Or else maybe he is just ambling along with no preconceived strategy to life until something deep within his psyche shouts sit! and then, THUNK.

 I guess depending on your perspective on life it is either one of these things.

Sometimes I like to play a little game with Barnaby when he is laying on the couch. I stand in front of him with my arms folded and just look at him. The minute we make eye contact his tail starts rotating fast enough to propel a small jet airliner. Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk it goes against the back of the couch, his eyes open as wide as they will go while he lays there like a dead fish. When I move my eyes away from him the thunking slows, until it stops and he sighs. Phew. I'll give him a minute and then I'll look at him again, and then whump-whump-whump-whump goes his tail against the couch again. Some days I feel like we do this for hours. He is so, so sweet. 

Barnaby MacDuff will make you fall in love. 

But Barnaby MacDuff is always getting himself into trouble. It is like trouble follows him around, fascinated by the amount of things it can convince Barney to do.

I try not to admit this to myself, but actually if I were a dog, I'd be a Barnaby MacDuff. For sure.

Mama loves you, Barneyskoodles.

I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing

I am feeling pretty amorous feelings about my life today to tell you the truth.

The way the clouds leaned in close to kiss the mountains, the way Maggie jumped with excitement when she saw me for our walk, and how she told me she'd been so excited to tell me about her weekend. Something about how the leaves swirled around our feet as we dodged kids on bikes, and how afterwards I ran the fastest and strongest run I've ever been able to run before, and how I even remembered to fold The Holbsy's laundry too.

I hummed Jingle Bells all the way through my grocery shopping. The tune gave me the just the pep I needed to maneuver the crowded aisles and not get upset when I was violently cart-boxed at the jam section. The WinCo is a scary place on a Tuesday afternoon! When I got back to the car I saw that miraculously I had completed my grocery rounds in under sixteen minutes, how is that even possible? It was a Christmas miracle.

A word on the WinCo. The WinCo is a CRAZY PLACE. It's like I go to WinCo and then so does the whole town, all at the same time, and it is people! carts! food! lines! screaming children! bulk wheat!

Now that I consider it truthfully, I do not really think it is possible that there are enough homes in the Moscow area to house all of the people who seem to magically appear inside of the WinCo when I walk through the doors. They are like extras in a movie, fake people with their fake carts full of fake food that you just know they're not going to eat. I like to imagine that as soon as I leave the store someone will call CUT and these people will just vaporize into thin air. 

Also I bought five kinds of mustards today.

The Holbs texted me today like so:

Were you trying to make a statement by buying ten different mustards?

But what kind of a statement could you possibly make with mustards?

The loving truth is that as I pushed my cart down the aisle while singing of Santa Claus and his impending sojourn to the southern parts of the globe I spotted all these mustards just sitting there being all cute and diverse and mustardly, and I just fell in love with them! I mean, I fell in love with mustards.

I had to buy them all because they were like a family. My family. My family of mustards.

And I find I just want to kiss things! Here, I will kiss Petey.

Oh! Here's another! I went to Kendall's house tonight but on the way there I went to the right house number on the wrong street first, only to find the creepiest house. In all of Moscow. The creepiest. I called her to tell her that her house was scary and she said in an offended tone No, my house is Charming. 

I also love the fact that we established that I could blog about that and she would not think I was a dork.

Oh, today! You cute thing!