Ah, Twilight Squee

So I spent yesterday stalking the Twilight Obsessed Crowd over at the Twilight Lexicon to get more information about the upcoming film and cast. The first thing I noticed is that it was a mistake to go there, what with blatant spoilers being thrown about in post titles. Crap. Now that that was out of the way, the second thing I noticed were the abundant amusing avatars and banners. Rather than inundate Stephanie's inbox further, I decided to just post the ones I enjoyed the most here. I realize that if you haven't read the book(s) many of these will be lost upon you, but you'll notice that isn't stopping me.

And my favorite:

Are Your Kids This Cute? No.

Chunky Peanut Report: 15.5 lbs (on a good day)! Hooray for Fatty!

A Toast to the Happy Couple

All this talk of vampires has made me reminisce about my early teen years when a short-lived television series titled "Dracula: the Series" aired. Like every other female who watched it I fell in love with it. Actually, that's not entirely true. We easily forgave the predicatable silliness of the show with its largely poorly written plots and over-the-top characters all for the sake of getting to gawk at the show's main character, Alexander Lucard (Dracula spelled backwards, ha HA!). He is dutifully played by the jaw-droppingly gorgeous Canadian actor, Geordie Johnson. This very blond Dracula is still out and about and living large as the now-CEO of his own corporation based in Luxembourg. He is a sophisticated, shrewd business tycoon by day, vicious hunter by night. He is constantly thwarted and hounded by his personal thorn in his side, Gustav Helsing, descendent of the famous Professor Van Helsing, vampire hunter extraordinaire. Gustav is "aided" by his two young grand-nephews, Christopher and Maximillian, and his recently acquired ward, Sophie. Gustav's son, Klaus, had been transformed into a vampire by Lucard many years prior. Of course, Gustav has never forgiven Lucard for taking away his only child and is constantly seeking a cure for vampirism to bring Klaus back home. Klaus, after being bitten, became terrifyingly insane and is only occasionally loyal to Lucard and always dangerous to everyone else.

Naturally, Dracula has acquired several enemies throughout his years beyond just the Helsing clan and sometimes Klaus. In the series, Nosferatu is a German vampire who has had a longstanding feud with Dracula. Nosferatu's vampire girlfriend is one Dr. Cross. Both vampires have successfully eluded destruction by Dracula but have yet to defeat him themselves despite several attempts.


Geordie Johnson was born to play this part if for no other reason than his talented "Transylvanian" accent. In the original Dracula the Count's accent was supposedly very peculiar because he learned to speak English from reading rather than hearing the language. As luck would have it, Geordie Johnson is completely incapable of producing a genuine accent from any given locale or nationality on earth. All of his accents have a distinct and odd European quality to them, but the specificity stops there. This fact has not gone unnoticed by him and it has provided us with no small measure of amusement over the years.

And why do I bother telling you this? So when I mock the hundreds of trainwreck fanfictions that have since sprung up all over the internet dedicated to Lucard and this show, you'll know what I'm referring to. The pattern never varies: a gorgeous, intelligent, single young woman flies to Luxembourg for various contrived purposes and eventually somehow runs into the ever-perfect Lucard. He is instantly charmed by her and vice versa, but she resists him out of principle. Eventually she gives in after she realizes she's fallen in love. She's human of course, and yet he comes to love her so completely himself that he cannot be brought to harm her in any way. In at least two fanfictions I've read (both by the same hateful woman who should be banned from posting her thoughts where others can read them), Lucard actually marries the girl, complete wedding and all, living happily ever after.

Several years ago my Canadian friend (i.e., she talks funny), Alyssa, and I spent an entire summer making fun of these projects. One evening she dared me to write my own Lucard fanfiction, claiming I couldn't make it all the way through it. I rejected her assertion and set to work, attempting to write the greatest fanfiction of all time. I started out with the best of intentions, but those fell by the wayside after approximately two sentences. Despite that I still coughed up the story and she enjoyed it immensely.

Having enjoyed writing it and wanting to keep the good times rolling for posterity, I wanted to duplicate my fanfic here on my blog (with a couple of updates and edits of the original). Having recently completed Twilight, it seems all the more appropos now. You're more than welcome to read it if you have the time. Behold, the new and improved "Dracula: The Wedding Story."

As a single, long-legged, long-haired brunette beauty, who would have imagined I would one day become the object of love of the wealthiest and hottest man in the world? It all began when I took a plane to Luxembourg for no reason at all. I stepped off the plane, caught a taxi into the middle of town, and began aimlessly to wander the quaint streets of what would one day become my home (or so I was to find out later).

I had walked in a daze for only a short while before I literally bumped into my destiny. This "destiny" happened to come in the form of a tall, blond man, impeccably dressed in an Armani suit and Gucci shoes. He had a beautiful smile full of sparkling white teeth and eyes as blue-green as the heavens during hurricane season, with that distinctive touch of gray pollution in the air. While apologizing profusely to the man for accidentally bumping him and knocking him into a puddle of goo, I noticed something in his eyes...could it be?...yes. Yes, it was desire for the one and only me.

He eyed me closely, slowly perusing my gorgeous body, then my gorgeous face, my gorgeous hair, and listening to my better-than-gorgeous voice. I couldn't imagine what he saw in little ol' me, but there he was, desiring away.

He began, "I'm Alexander Lucard. And who is this treasure before me?"

"Anna Fantanasana. Pleasure to meet a hottie such as yourself."

He laughed a perfect laugh before responding, "I'm equally pleasured, Ms. Fantanasana." He had such a delicious, odd accent I simply had to comment.

"Your accent is so unique...so utterly unplaceable. Where are you from?" His demeanor changed suddenly to irrationally furious.

"My accent is perfectly placeable! How can you not tell where I'm from based on my accent?? I worked for MONTHS on this accent! YEARS even!! Can't you tell I'm originally from Transylvania and learned English from reading books?!"

Startled by his clearly insane response, I answered, "I do apologize Mr. Lucard. It's absolutely obvious to me now. You have a perfect accent, I promise. I've never been very good at these sorts of things, you know."

Placated by my lie, the blond continued on. "You are a vision of beauty Ms. Fantanasana, and I simply must have you," quickly adding, "over to dinner, I mean. Yes, dinner." Intrigued by his perfect posterior, and hoping to see quite a bit more of it, I agreed.

"Now, before I come tonight, I feel compelled to ask your intentions toward me. While I'm no pillar of virtue myself, I can't have everyone thinking I'm totally easy and a skank-ho, even if I am."

"My lovely dear, I have nothing but the utmost respect for you. Because of this, I feel I must tell you the truth. I am a vampire. Dracula, in fact. Yes, yes it's true. The one and only Dracula. Dracula himself, Dracula The Man. Dracula, the one who is worshipped by all women everywhere and most men, including myself. And although I should normally want to suck you dry, I have an inexplicable love for you. I've loved you ever since I met you two minutes ago. Yes, Anna, for that long. You never knew, but I've loved you from the start. Ms. Anna Fantanasana, you are my future, my destiny."

"Ha! Destiny? That's what I said! How about that!"

"Please shut up. I'm not finished."

"Sorry."

"Anna, I love you. You are everything I've ever wanted or needed in my life or unlife or undeath, or whatever the hell you call it. Anna...will you please do me the distinct honor," and getting down on one knee, "of being my wife (until I tire of you, kill you, and feed your corpse to the hounds)?"

"What was that last part?"

"Um, nothing."

"Well Alexander, while I also love you more than life itself, I don't feel right now is the best time for this. I'm currently dating two guys already, and trying to score with the bagboy at Albertson's on top of that. I simply can't be tied down to a husband right now. However, if you'd like to just go a round or two right now, I..."

Lucard interrupted, "NO! If I have you, I must have all of you all at once all the time every fricking minute. I'm just that possessive. Don't make me beg Anna, it isn't becoming of a man of my stature."

"Beg for it Blood Boy."

Transitioning from a kneel to down on both knees, and then on all fours, the vampire sobbed, "Please Anna! I love you more than anything! Marry me or I'll implode, I swear!"

"Damn, you're kinda creepy, even for such a hottie."

I turned and walked away, only to notice I was dragging an extra 170 pounds. A policeman stopped me, eyeing the spectacle before him, and calmly asked, "Do you need help ma'am?"

"No, I'm fine officer."

"But you've got a man attached to your ankles...and he's biting one of them."

"No, no, I've got the situation well under control. But I thank you for your concern."

With great effort, I struggled to make my way to my hotel several miles away, Lucard in tow via my ankles the whole way. I could hear him screaming behind me, "Please Anna! This is ridiculous! Surely you can see you love me and I love you and we should be married! And you're tearing up my suit and I look like hell! PLEASE!"

I stopped at the entrance to the hotel to turn and finally respond. But as I looked down on his dirty and bloody face, his eyes tearing up from the gritty gravel that had gotten in them, his hair full of dust from the streets, I saw before me the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

"Oh Alexander! I've been such a fool! Of course I'll marry you!"

He attempted to get up, but crumpled into a fetal position, groaning with pain. I waited for him to get his act together, and finally after ten minutes he struggled to stand before me. I giddily threw my arms around his neck, sending seething pain rippling through his entire frame. He cried out in agony, especially after I insisted he carry me home to his castle. We made it two steps before he collapsed and let out a disturbing, unidentifiable sound when my body landed on top of his, crushing two ribs. Thoroughly annoyed, but still madly in love, I called for a taxi, dragged his worthless ass into the car, and we sped off towards "our" home. He finally regained consciousness after the cabdriver helped me dump him on his front steps.
He managed to squeak out, "Darling, please stop kicking me there. I'm awake now."

Pleased my "helping" had done the trick, I picked up my cellphone and proceeded with wedding plans at once. In the mean time, Lucard's sad excuses for zombies had collected his tattered body and hauled it indoors, depositing on the kitchen table where it would be well out of the way. When he could walk again he made his way to the Great Hall, where servants, caterers, decorators, and flowererers were already well on task, all the while I was directing and demanding away.

"Alexander!" I squealed with glee as I rushed to his arms. Stopping me before I could full-body tackle him, he instead gently kissed my forehead.

"It looks lovely my dear. When is this blessed event to occur?"

"Two hours. You're going to stop limping by then, aren't you? It isn't sexy at all."

"I'll certainly do my best, my love. Who's coming?"

"Well, everyone I've ever met for my side, including my mother who hates Europeans. I had a bit more difficult time with yours though. However, someone named Gustav something-or-other helped me a great deal. He was just hanging around outside your place, so I assumed he must be a good friend of yours. He's your Best Man, by the way."

"Uh..."

"He was so pleased to be asked, too Alexander! He got very excited and ran home and returned with his whole adorable family, along with bags and bags of what he said would make the "perfect wedding gift for you." Wasn't that sweet?"

"Uh, Anna...."

"He also told me to make sure to invite your good friends, Nosferatu, Dr. Cross, and your coworker, Klaus."

"DAMMIT!"

"Don't swear in front of the priest, Alexander. Oh, and speaking of which, the priest here had a few more priests come by and exorcise the place. They said it was just riddled with evil things."

"AHHHHHHHHGGGGGG!!!!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake Alexander, you needn't be so melodramatic about everything. And take that silly stake away from your chest, you're not getting out of this wedding that easily. Besides, you could put someone's eye out with that. Now give it to me. Alexander, give me the stake. Give it to me. Now. GIVE IT TO ME!"

*POOF*

"Well darn.... OK then everyone, party's over. Get out."

And so ended my destiny with my love, my dream, my hottest-ever creature of the night. I shall never forget him for as long as another man never walks in front of m--oh hey there....

"Hey Klaus! Over here!!"

THE END.

Beer Makes Everything Funnier

"Sausages!"

Would You Like Some Whine With That Cheese?

I finally bit the bullet and started reading Twilight. Why? Because my firend, Stephanie, (Dora Cake Stephanie, not Twilight Stephenie, just to clarify) had a gun to my head. She's a jerk like that.

Anyway, here are my impressions 400-odd pages in. It's a good, quick read and entertains as promised. Oh, and for all those who have yet to read it and don't appreciate spoilers, I would stop reading at this point. For those who gave up because it was cheesy, not scary enough, just not their style, or who found themselves not reading it and not reading anything else because they wanted to finish it first, by all means continue to read here because I'll make all of your wildest wishes of spoilers come true.

Back to my impressions. Going into this I knew it would be cheesy on some level. I've heard nothing but about this book. That's cool, I'm fine with that as long as I'm forewarned. I was not disappointed in either regard. I really didn't mind terribly as it didn't seem too over the top and what was there was to be expected in a book with teenaged girls as its primary audience. I'd heard that one of readers' biggest complaints is Meyer's over indulgence in adjectives, particularly with regard to Edward's appearance. I found that to be right on the mark. First, how many times can you say a guy is perfectly gorgeous? Second, how many times is it really necessary to point that out in one book? In every other sentence seems a tad superfluous in my mind. He's a vampire, he hasn't suddenly turned fugly between the last time he was gorgeous to ten minutes after that. If he's suddenly ugly, by all means let us know, but until then we'll just assume that nothing has changed in that category. And third (you're welcome, you nerds), "gorgeous" and "perfect" and "inexplicably godlike" are all very subjective. Is it just possible that Edward is only perfectly beautiful and Adonis-like to everyone who's seen him SO FAR? Yeah, that's what I thought.

I appreciated that the romance was fairly slow in building. Romances that take off like a rocket are unreasonable and unrealistic. Plus, it builds the sexual tension needed in a good romance plot. By the time it really got over the top, I merely smiled and chuckled rather than puked on the book. So again, good on her for delivering the goods as well as could be expected.

What I did not appreciate, which is the point in the story I am in the middle of reading, is the sudden and painful onset of stupidity of our heroine, Bella. James, the tracker, has just kidnapped her mother, threatened to devour her if Bella doesn't ditch the protection of the Cullen Clan and come to him alone so he can kill her too, and she agrees to do it. She agreed to leave the safety and assistance of five good vampires who would risk undeath (ha! I kill me) and limb to protect her and her relatives from any harm to be a martyr. This is like a plot straight out of a bad 80s horror film. Does she not think James will still murder her mother even after she willingly gives herself over to him? Why didn't she immediately turn around and tell the two jerks who were there protecting her, and the three more who were on their way at top speed to be there with her, that James had her mom and possibly wasn't there anything they, with their combined centuries of experience, knowledge, and superhuman intelligence and abilities, could do to rectify the situation? That is what a normal, thinking person would do. But not this brain surgeon! No sir. Gotta get herself AND her mother killed, but not before writing a tearful letter of regret to her one and only love, begging him to forgive her for suddenly becoming retarded. Yeah. That's gonna happen. I hope they all take turns slapping the crap out of her (which might crush her skull, if Edward is to be believed, and she would totally have that coming).

By the by, I don't trust Rosalie for obvious reasons, which are not aided by the fact that this is a terribly predictable book. She either dimes Bella out or they wind up totally BFF! by the end of the novel. But more than her, I don't trust Alice. Wasn't it Alice who said it would be perfectly safe for Bella to join the game and practically insisted she come? Didn't she also insist on babysitting Bella once The Drama started? And isn't she just a little too anxious to be buddies with Bella? And is she not also the mystery woman with no memory of her past or who made her? Yeah, that's what I thought. If she doesn't turn in this book, mark my words she'll be the villian by book #15.

Final note. I cannot fathom dating something you simply cannot resist eating. I can only equate his predicament to my falling in love with a Duncan Donuts-brand Boston Kream donut. Even if my true love could actually carry on a meaningful conversation with me, which would be creepy at best, I don't think I could love him more outside my stomach than in. His chocolatey scent would overwhelm me and I would have to end his pitiful life. So Huge Props to Edward for keeping his true love in tact! That is, long enough for her to get herself et up by some other fool. We'll see how that turns out for her.

Flowers for Abigail

So it would seem I've become an idiot. "What else is new?" some of you are no doubt wondering. Those people are dead to me. For the rest of you, despite what you've read here, I haven't been terribly idiotic for many, many years. Sure, I've had my moments of sheer stupidity. Like that time I took my sister-in-law for a quick jaunt into D.C. by way of the Metro subway system. We bought our fares and I proceeded to lead her running around the entire train station looking for the turn stiles to get in before finally being directed right back to where we had purchased our tickets because the entrance had been directly behind us. Sister-in-law said, "I thought that's what it was." "Then why didn't you say something?!" "I thought you knew what you were doing." "WELL, CLEARLY NOT." Mind you, it had not been my first time to this particular station, either. But those moments were few and far between, relatively.

Lately, it's been nothing but. I constantly forget where I'm going and for what purpose, whether it be on the road, in church, or in my house. I'll walk into the bathroom to use the facilities and walk out without having done so because I forgot I had to. I leave food out because I forget I took it out. I misplace everything, which I had previously been fairly good about not doing as I'm one of those "If you put it in the same place every time you won't lose it" sort of people. I lock my kids in the car at the commissary on a hot day, because even as I watch the locked door shut, it doesn't register that it might be a problem until after the door's already closed. I never have anything intelligent to say to anyone anymore (some would argue that I never did--again, I hate those people) and my humor mojo has all but dissipated. I'm slow on the uptake and I can't sort my thoughts into comprehensible communication.

When I've shared my dismay with friends of becoming suddenly and incorrigibly stupid, they don't even argue with me. Their response to me is similar to an episode of "Family Guy" when Meg (the daughter) comes running into the house, bawling about not being able to get a date to the prom and stating she's going to kill herself because she's "fat and grotesque." Instead of disagreeing with her, Brian (the talking family dog) tries to calm her by saying, "Awwwwwwww. Awwwwwwwww, common. Awwwwwwww." That's pretty much what my friends do. They can all go to hell.

I subscribe to Ken Jennings's blog. No, not because I'm a huge fan of trivia or "Jeopardy!", but because he's painfully funny. He has a feature on his blog every Wednesday called Wordplay Wednesday (not related to The Funny, but interesting just the same). Lately I've just simply given up on those altogether. This past Wednesday (yesterday, right? I need a calendar. Oh, wait, I have three staring me in the face) he had a couple of wordplay questions he came up with. I immediately recognized them as simple (him calling them "easy" doesn't count--everything's "easy" to this genius-jerk) and thought I'd give them a quick stab to raise my self-esteem. It took the better part of an hour just to figure them out. And then I cheated and realized the second one was incorrect. Boo hoo. Again, I say BOO HOO. Pity me, immediately!

I feel like I did back when I was taking a particular migraine medication. Sure, it helped for a while but in the interim it inhibited my thinking, particularly the area of the brain that controls language and speech. I could never think completely clearly and it took considerable time to come upon the words I knew I knew but couldn't somehow get a hold of. However, back then it didn't bother me that much if for no other reason than I knew what was causing the problem and that it was only temporary. Now though, who knows? I could be an imbecile for eternity and I won't even have an outside source as an excuse! Although, really I'm just hoping it's the lack of sleep. When I was nursing Peanut I was getting at least 8-9 hours of sleep a night. Since he's been forced to the bottle, I'm getting 4-6 every night. Given that I'm constantly falling asleep during the day, pretty much anytime I sit and/or stop moving, plus the constant dull headache over the past month and a half, I'll guess that 4-6 is not enough. Gosh, I'm hoping that's it. 'Cause after that, I'm completely out of ideas. No, seriously.

I'm Afraid to Say It....

The Husband and his father are at an Orioles game tonight. I was so excited to have an evening to myself to blog that I stuffed the kids in bed by 7:30 (it would have been sooner if PW had not insisted we count all the doughnuts pictured in her Curious George book--I stopped those goings-on at 201). I took out the trash and recycling, did the dishes, ran around the house with Clorox Everywhere sanitizing everything under the sun (finally, after the year of 10,000 diseases), and ran to the computer confident that I could take my time. And now I sit here, staring at the computer with nothing to say.

In lieu of anything interesting in my life to report, I'll resort to embarrassing myself and my family for your reading pleasure. PW recently took swimming lessons. And by "took swimming lessons" I mean "she screamed that she was drowning every second she was in the pool," despite the lifejacket, swimming teacher holding her, and lifeguards staring at her intently. By the end of six lessons, she wouldn't go anywhere near the pool. Nay, she wouldn't even go in the baby pool that had all of four inches of water in it. Sure, she finally got brave enough to sit next to the baby pool and play with a random rubber ducky she found (a pirate ducky no less--I'll have to find one of those), but that was as far as she would venture. How in the world did she turn out like this? The two previous years I had held her while in the pool but admittedly she wasn't a huge fan. Lately she's been screaming "TURN IT OFF, TURN OFF THE WATER!!" in the bathtub if the water even approaches her bellybutton while seated. She's completely insane.

Which leads me to conclude that phobias are indeed inherited (or at least in part) as some suspect. My father's not a huge fan of water. He'll go in if forced, but he doesn't enjoy it. I used to swim (well, got in the pool anyway) as a child, but I've become less fond of the water the older I've become. I'm not scared of the water in the pool (despite several early near-drownings), and I know how to swim just fine, I just derive no enjoyment from it whatsoever. It's as enjoyable for me as sitting in the parking lot of Safeway; at least you don't have to shave your body for the latter activity.

Now, the ocean is another matter entirely. I have no qualms about looking at the ocean from the shore. Lovely. But I don't get in it. I don't like boats. I don't like deep water. And here's a fun fact for all of you taking notes at home: if I see a picture of an iceberg, I get severly nauseated. Why? Because those suckers are FRICKING UNNATURALLY HUGE. And that's just the part that you see sticking up out of the water! That's only an average of 10% of those suckers, and there's a whole 90% hidden, lurking under that mountain of ice, floating silently in the icy, dark depths of a seemingly bottomless ocean. Icebergs make the true depth of the ocean a sudden and unwelcome reality in my mind. I'm gonna find you the worst picture of one (it was photoshopped actually, but it's still the same idea) and then I'm going to stop speaking of it as I'm on the verge of puking on my keyboard. I will not include the actual photo here (as if I want to taint my blog with that business), but here is a link if you care: http://www.snopes.com/photos/natural/iceberg.asp

You're welcome for that. I nearly lost my dinner in the process for you ingrates (is it any wonder PW is such a freak? I didn't think so).

Now how about heights? Dad hates heights. You guessed it: so do I. We don't even like climbing on stepladders to change a lightbulb. We've discussed this many times together and we agree with the analysis one set of professionals gave about why some people are scared of heights: we're scared that if we're, say, on top of a building, that we'll suddenly go nuts and just start running and take a flying leap off the roof. Accidental falling is a worry, too, naturally. But the one where you think you're going to do it to yourself is much worse. Oh, and the husband is also none the fan of high places, either (which is why I'm especially proud of him for cleaning our gutters on the roof). Is it any wonder PW freaks out about that, as well? Mind you, none of us are scared of speed. A fast carnival ride that whips your brains around inside your head is great fun and PW agrees. She is fearless when it comes to that. But up high? No.

Shall I go on? Of course I shall. Who's to stop me? You? I didn't think so. Punk.

Spiders/bugs. Not a fan of spiders and neither is Dad. Now, at this point some might speculate that my father passed all of these fears on to me nearly intentionally. However, I never witnessed him showing his fears about these things until well after my own were considerably developed on their own. In fact, when I had hissyfits over spiders, he would scold me for sending the little beasts (Satan's Pets, they are) back to their Maker and insist I should be setting them free outside. Pffft, whatever. SQUISH.

It is at this point that I would like to point out that PW has a very kind side to her. Despite her distaste for spiders in general, she will frequently see to their welfare. She locates the spiders and I squash them, as a rule. But on occasion she will spot a small one and I will give her the choice of killing it or giving it its freedom. She always chooses to spare its life. So we let it crawl into one of her play dishes, carry it outside, and let it crawl out again. She has a good heart. And it is for this very reason why I tortured the nasty bee that stung her twice two weeks ago. She never knowingly disrupted it; in fact, it climbed into her clothing and had the gall to sting her when she tried to figure out what was rummaging around inside her shirt sleeve. That little bastard died a very unpleasant death, I can assure you of that. So now if she sees anything that flies--including gnats and butterflies--she FREAKS OUT. Great.

On to my next phobia. (Why no, I haven't seen a professional about these. Why do you ask?) Fire. I'm convinced I'm going to die in a house fire. I'm absolutely certain that's how I'm going to leave this life. I have every possible escape route planned out of my house and I'm still certain I'm going to die in it. No, we don't have a fireplace in our house. Screw that.

Large dogs. In my defense, a dog attacked me when I was very young (perhaps 2 or 3 years old) and bit me in the face. And then another dog cornered me when I was ten. If your dog is quiet, appears happy and stable, and is on a leash if outside, I'll pat it. No, I will not play with it. But I will pat it. But if your dog barks at me, I will cry. So keep that in mind.

Speaking in public? Sure, why not. I hate it and avoid it at all costs as many others do (and yet I'll perform for an audience without too much trouble--go figure). I knew I was going to quit my last job before getting married, but I hadn't decided when to officially tell my bosses. That decision practically made itself when they told me I was going to have to brief a general and his staff to "further my career." "Oh man, what a bummer I'm gonna have to miss that. Take care!"

Did you know that there are people who are genuinely afraid of the number 13? Now, those people are nuts.

I hope I've given you enough here to make you feel better about yourselves. I'm such a giver.

I Fill So Blessed....

The EDS Blog has a new humor blog linked. It's BRILLIANT. It's called "Seriously, So Blessed!" The characters are the author "Tiffany/Amber/Megan/Nicole" and her husband "Jordan/Jason/Wes/Taylor" (aka JJWT). As a satirical blog, the author embodies every negative stereotype of the typical young naive and empty-headed Molly Mormon who Blogs About Her Perfect, Awesome, Blessed Life. My favorite post so far is "Hooray for Date Night!!" Here we begin midway through her account of trying to find a parking spot at California Pizza Kitchen for her date night with her Perfect Husband, JJWT:

"So, after we were blessed to find a parking spot, we had a cozy dinner at CPK (LOVE it...so dang good!) and split a yummy BBQ chicken pizza (totally crave it), big salad and MONSTER raspberry lemonade. We really like to split things so that we can sit on the same side of the booth and feed each other from each other's plates and everyone can covet me and see how JJWT has broughten sexy back. I literally LOVE my life!!

"Then we walked over to the fountain where we found the brick that Jordan/Jason/Wes/Taylor bought for me before he left on his mission. (Anyone want to guess what it says?? I'm not telling . . .) That brick brings back literally a bazillion memories--LITERALLY--of the two years he was away! Whenever I started to miss him too much I would go sit by it, gaze into the dancing waters of the fountain and find the inspiration to write him, even when it was impossible to live because I felt like half myself had literally been amputated. So hard! But we made it through – even though I got engaged twice during the time he was away – I just KNEW that Jordan/Jason/Wes/Taylor was the one I was meant to be with! And now we are more in love and have more fun than anyone else, so thank you for making each and every minute of each and every day the best possible minute and/or day for me!"

Ah, the funny. The author is looking for things to blog about so by all means, email away. Oh, and be on the lookout for the written Utah accent. Huzzah!

Is It That Time of Year Already?

I tend to plan out Halloween outfits for Peawhistle pretty far in advance. Her first year she wore a onesie that announced it was her first Halloween. Then she went to bed. The next year she was a bat for her first year of trick-or-treating (actual Peawhistle not pictured):

The following year she was a sheep of my own making (translation, a gray sweatsuit with ears and a tail sewed on; no, I don't have a photo. You'll just have to trust me).

And the year after that, she was a sailorette, and an incredibly cute one at that (again, that's not PW; I'm too lazy to find an actual photo of her to upload).

This year I'm leaning towards two outfits: a pirate princess or a mailman. Both are fabulous.

Although PW has expressed an interest in being a farmer when she grows up, I cannot find a good costume for one. Of the two pictured here, she says she prefers the postman outfit, and I have to agree with her. It's fantastic. Although that pirate princess is pretty adorable, too. Thoughts?

Sundays Will Never Be the Same

So Stephanie and I were at a picnic yesterday. As I was leaving with my family I said my farewells and told her I would see her tomorrow (now today) at church. She said something to the effect of, "Expect big changes tomorrow. BIG changes." I took this to mean she would be getting a new calling, which she seemed to confirm. I spent the entire evening and following morning wracking my brain trying to think of what kind of calling adjustment would qualify as a "BIG change." The only logical result I could come up with is that she and several of her cohorts have conspired to stage a coup and will take over the ward with Stephanie leading the congregation Noriega-style. I must admit, I have never been so excited to attend church in all my church-going years! The idea of a religious dictator may prove emotionally unhealthy after some time, but until then I look forward to the New Order and perhaps fancy and outlandish uniforms.

I'll let you know how it turns out.