One year ago yesterday I started up Life's Little Adventures with this post. I had no clue what I was doing, only that I'd read a few blogs and thought it seemed like a great way to keep family up to date on our lives. I intended to write an anniversary post yesterday, but I was distracted by the whole charitable giving theme.

Over the past year I think my ability to put my thoughts out there has improved. I'm able to express myself alot better than I was before, and I'm less self-conscious about my most innermost thoughts and feelings. I'm not sure yet if that's a good thing or not, but it's most definitely true. I'm able to say things here that I probably wouldn't say out loud, and yet my family and friends still hear me. Perhaps it's a more cowardly way of telling people off? Or a more gentle approach? Who knows? But, it works.

Also, I've met several very interesting people. My blogroll has grown and evolved to include several members of my family and more than one person that I'd call a friend, even though I've never met them in real life. My life is better for blogging, that's for sure.

In honor of this milestone, I'm going to post something that I've always wanted to post. Something that, just now, after an entire year, I'm able to post. Because it's only been recently that people have begun finding me with internet searches. So, without further ado, I present to you Weird Search Strings That Have Lead People To My Blog:

1. Alissa Died--well, no, I didn't. But OK.
2. photos hillbilly backyard vegetable gardens
3. Spell Callie--I think you just did...
4. To have enough food is good and to have friends is nice but to have both is a true blessing-- you are right.
5. Little Adventures Clearance
6. How do I find an ingrown toenail?--I think you'll know if you have one!
   
7. Authentic Narnia costumes--well, mine wasn't authentic, you know...
8. Naked chicks dancing around naked--how that led here I don't know
9. What? What! What.
10. Party party party 'til the cows come home home home.

So, there you go. Of course, I didn't include several (OK, most) of them, because it's truly sick what people search for on the internet. And I don't want the actual nasty phrases posted here for them to find again. Wackos.

Have a nice day, ya'll!

A few minutes ago I was having a conversation with several of my co-workers. General stuff, and somehow or another we got on the subject of charity. More specifically, angel trees and the Salvation Army bell ringers that are so prevalent this time of year. I had shared my practice of changing $50 to one dollar bills and stuffing some in the Salvation Army buckets each time I go into a store, and someone else had told us what they had gotten their 'angel' for Christmas.

I was really surprised to learn that one particular co-worker doesn't believe in charity. She doesn't believe in sponsoring a child from the angel tree, or a child from a poor country, or in putting her spare change in the Salvation Army bucket. She feels that she works for her money and everyone else should, too, and if they're "too lazy to get a job" (her words, not mine) then it's their own fault that they don't have enough money for gifts or for a holiday meal.

Now, this woman and her husband make nice salaries. I wouldn't say they're rolling in money, but they're definitely comfortable. Together they make a good bit more than Andy and I bring home. They have 3 children, who get all that their little hearts desire and then some. They are regular church-goers, attending a local Baptist church twice on Sundays and again on Wednesday night.

I have to say that I think she has a very selfish attitude. To not give, when you most definitely could, just seems wrong. She went on to tell us that her family doesn't even donate or give away old baby clothes or toys. They'll sell them at consignment or throw them away. That little fact in particular really bothered me, because I passed alot of my children's clothing on to her once my boys had outgrown it. I never dreamed she was profiting off of it, even if it was only a few dollars. Or throwing it in the trash?! Oh my.

I am not rich. And I'll be the first to admit that my children have alot of stuff. They're getting nice gifts for Christmas. But it's important to help those that cannot help themselves, and no matter how stupid or selfish or lazy some parents are, that's no reason for their children to be punished. The fact of the matter is, alot of those parents are trying really hard. Some of them are in really bad situations, having left abusive partners or having lost jobs that they could not afford to lose. And they're not asking for things for themselves, they're just asking for a nice Christmas for their children.

I try to be charitable all year round. It's easy to find causes with Andy working the job that he does--he knows of many, many families that need help. But at Christmastime, it seems extra important. I'm giving my $50 the Salvation Army, and I was going to leave it at that. But now I'm thinking we might could do more. So, I think to make up for the selfishness of others (because I'm sure she's not the only one that feels the way that she does) the boys and I will go tonight and get some angels from the tree downtown. One for each of them. And they can choose what to purchase for their angel, and we'll drop it off together.

I'm not saying that folks should put themselves in the poorhouse to give to charity. Really, if you can't afford it, it's alright. But if you can afford nice clothing and toys for your children and yourselves, certainly you could afford to buy one extra toy or outfit for a child that otherwise might not get a Christmas. Right?

When I was growing up, holidays were a big deal in our house. My mom had decorations for every occasion, ranging from cardboard cutouts that hung on the walls to ceramic statues, wreaths for the doors, and all sorts of neat stuff. Of course, we had more decorations for Christmas than for any other time of the year.

Some of those things stand out so clearly in my head. They are part of the holiday. They are so clear in my memories that they mean Christmas to me.

Of course there was the tree. And the ornaments. My parents have a very eclectic selection of Christmas ornaments. There are the Shiny-Brite glass ornaments that came from another generation's trees. The collectible ornaments from various vacations. Handmade ornaments--sequined balls, crocheted stars, and beads in the shape of snowflakes and stars. The ornaments for each child engraved with our names, plus one for Roscoe--our dog in the 70's. The tree always has colored lights, and bubble lights. And it's never artificial.

Also part of Christmas is a red plastic bell with artificial holly on the top. It has a light and an electronic music box inside, and the light pulses with the music. I love it. And in the bathroom goes a Santa bank, and a little plastic Santa from the 50's or 60's. He's in a chimney, on a spring. You can push him down into the chimney and he pops back out. Yes, the bathroom gets decorations, too.

Perhaps the most important thing, to me anyway, is the nativity scene. It's nothing fancy, purchased from a discount store in the 70's. It includes a creche, that has a light and a wind up music box that plays Silent Night. Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus are attached. Then there's a camel, a donkey, some sheep, and a shepherd that you can arrange yourself. And Gloria, the angel, who hangs from a peg at the top of the creche. I love the nativity scene. For a long, long time it's been my job to set it up. There are 2 green hand towels, as old as the scene itself, that serve as grass. It usually went on the bottom half of a large, cube-shaped end-table. I spent alot of time arranging and re-arranging the figures to make sure they were just right. When you wound it up, it played for forever. Silent Night. I love the sound. I can hear it in my mind right now. There was more than one night that I wound it up and fell asleep listening to it play.

My brothers had a wonderful time messing with me. They loved to move the pieces around just to watch me fix them back. Sometimes they'd add an army man or a dinosaur or a Hot Wheel, just to be funny. Or maybe they'd temporarily remove a piece. It's all part of the tradition.

When I moved out on my own, I began looking for my own nativity scene. Unfortunately, none of them are right. I can't find one that fits into my ideas for the perfect Christmas. Mostly, it's Gloria. I want her to hang on the creche. And you don't usually find that--the angel stands off to the side. Or maybe the manger doesn't play music. Or the figurines look too cartoonish. Or they have the right look, but they're all glued down. Or it's great big, or little tiny. I did find one, once, on e-bay. It was the exact one that I remember from my childhood, just missing one of the sheep. They wanted $450 for it. I couldn't do that. This one is close. Gloria hangs in the right spot. The figures have the look I'm going for. It's not musical, though. I'd miss Silent Night. And I'd need to purchase the sheep and camel and shepherd separately. That's alot of $$. It's tempting, however...

Last year, after Christmas, I broke down and purchased one on clearance from Wal-Mart. It's almost right. It's the right size, and the figurines are close to what I need them to be. But the angel doesn't hang--she stands. And it doesn't play music. I still don't know if I'll put it out or not.

I'd almost rather not have one at all than to have the wrong one.

edited to add: mom, do we have a photo of the nativity scene anywhere? i'd like to share...

Being as I took the easy way out for my post last night, I'll do my best to be a bit more forthcoming this evening.

On Thursday evening my youngest brother, Doug, and his wife, Kellie, arrived for a visit. I was excited simply because we don't see each other often--we live far apart and our schedules don't coincide at all. The boys were excited because Kellie is their favorite person in the entire world. Kellie arrived at the house and I nearly ceased to exist. She was in charge of the bath, and stories, and coloring, and bedtime. Fine by me. I was ready for a break. We had a great time--a picnic and exploring on Friday, and then they watched the boys for me while I photographed that wedding. They stayed all the way through dinner and until bedtime, and then headed home. It was a really nice visit.

Now, about that wedding. I think I did an alright job. I'm still editing the photos, but when I get them finished I'll put a selection up on the Life Moments photo blog and let you know. I gotta tell you, though, it was way more stressful than I thought it would be. I was so worried that I'd forget someone or totally miss something obviously wrong. And this morning my arm and shoulder muscles are a little sore from so much time holding the camera up. But all in all I think they'll be happy. I hope so, anyway. And I gave out some of my cards to the guests with children (they asked! I didn't just solicit business at someones wedding) so I may get some additional portrait shoots out of the experience.

Have you guys ever used the Swiffer Carpet Flick? We just got one, and it's the neatest thing. It's got this little sticky board that picks up all kinds of things off of the carpet. The boys adore it:

Thanksgiving is here. A day to recognize and give thanks for all the blessings in our lives. A day to spend with loved ones, both in person and through thoughts and memories.

There are many people on my mind today. My parents, who we will not be seeing today. I am lucky to have such wonderful parents. My brothers and their significant others. We are fortunate that Doug and Kellie are making the trip to visit us today, but we won't see Chip and Shira. My grandpa, in Florida, enjoying the sun and sand. My aunt and uncle and cousins, who make me appreciate the value of a close family. My grandparents who are no longer with us. I miss them alot. Andy's parents, who live far away and can't come home. His grandparents and sister, who are just far enough away that a visit isn't possible around his work schedule. Doris. Our soldiers overseas, fighting for causes greater than themselves. Mark and Mandy, simply because they're in Hawaii and I'm not.

I have a good life. I have my health and a healthy, happy family. I have a roof over my head and food to eat and clothes on my back. I have friends, both here and in blogland.

Oh, and I have a turkey in the oven and, most importantly, spare stuffing cooking on the stove that I can snack on all day long.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I figure, if you weren't smiling before, you certainly are now. Who could look at that photo and not grin? Except, now that I look at it again, Drew looks more like he's in pain than smiling. But I swear, they were both just acting silly.

It's been a pretty good day. Really. And I'm glad. I was tired of being crabby.

Good things about today:

• Well, even though it's Wednesday, it's like Friday. Because I don't have to go to work tomorrow. That's right, a 4 day holiday weekend!
• And, the boss man let us go an hour early today. How nice was that?
• My friend Issa wrote the nicest stuff about me. She thinks I'm funny! How about that? Reading her post absolutely made my day.
• When I got to the farm to pick up Callie and check the cows, I found a new calf. It was not there yesterday, so it's less than one day old. It looks healthy, from a distance. Mama wouldn't let me close enough to get a really good look.
  
• Then, when I came home, Andy had already picked up the boys. They were calmly sitting at the table, coloring. Coloring pictures for me. How nice! And let me say, Nick is becoming quite the artist for only being 3.
• Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. My youngest brother and his wife are coming to visit, and they're staying tomorrow night. I'm excited, and the boys are beside themselves. Kellie is their favorite person ever.
• I just now saw my friends that are in Hawaii on the television. We have the Kentucky-Memphis ballgame on on ESPN, and there they were in a crowd shot. Cool.
• Not only did Andy pick up the boys, he vacuumed the carpet and did the dishes. So I don't have to worry about it after he leaves for work.

So, life is looking good. I'll post tomorrow, but in case you guys are celebrating and don't get to your computers, Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I guess yesterday's post was a bit of a downer. It truly didn't start out that way, but hey--how I feel is how I feel. I guess I felt a little sad.

Today I wasn't feeling much better. Nothing really specifically wrong, just nothing really great. Typical morning, work and work some more. At lunch time I ran some errands, and in the Dollar General store was a woman who made me feel so grateful for the life that I have.

Her name is Doris. I know this, because she told me so. There was a very long line, and the checker wasn't exactly in a hurry. I was in line with my little basket of goodies--some birdseed, some M&M's, batteries, and a few little odds and ends that I was picking up Santa asked me to pick up for the boys' stockings. The little old lady in front of me had a basket with laundry detergent, hairspray, and a generic cola. She looked very tired, and not so strong. I offered to hold her basket for her, because it was obvious it was a bit too heavy. She accepted my offer and introduced herself, and then asked me if the toys in my basket were for my kids. When I told her they were she asked how old they were, and their names. Always happy to talk about the boys, I told her their ages and names and a few little tidbits about them.

She looked very sad.

She told me that her children are all grown, except for the one that died when she was 4. The other 3 are scattered across the country. They are all married and have families. She showed me their pictures. Then she told me that none of them were going to make it home for Thanksgiving or Christmas this year, because they all had to work or had other family obligations. She hasn't seen 2 of her grandchildren in nearly 3 years.

I was feeling pretty sorry for her, and I wasn't sure what to say. What do you say? Well, if you don't say anything, often folks will keep talking. And she did.

Her husband died last month. And her sister died this past July.

Then it was her turn to check out. She paid for her things, and left as I was putting my stuff on the counter. She moved pretty slow, and I had the idea that perhaps I'd catch up with her in the parking lot and at least help her the rest of the way to her car. But she got in a cab and was gone before I finished my transaction.

So, here I was, feeling a little blah about things. Little things that don't really matter in the whole scheme of things. And I have every right to feel that way, if I want to. But I don't guess I should. Because I have alot to be thankful for.

Most of my family is close (well, closer than across the country). I have 2 healthy children. I have family and friends that love me, and I will see most of them at some point during the holidays. My husband and children are alive, as are both of my brothers and both of my parents.

Of course, Doris has lived a long life. She was 80 if she was a day. I can't say what my life will be like when I'm 80. Hopefully it won't be as lonely as hers seems to be. Did I make her day any brighter by chatting with her? I'd like to think so, although it was a sad topic of conversation. But she made a difference in my life. She made me think about all that I have to be thankful for. And I'm going to do my best to remember her whenever I start feeling sorry for myself.

*thanks to Alison for finding out how to do the strikeout thing. i really appreciate you taking the time to do that for me!

For some reason I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Reflection (get it? the picture? *grin*), if you will. About myself, my family, my friends. Little things, big things, and lots of things in between. Here, in list form, are some things I've been thinking about. Feel free to comment on all or none--I'm not looking for advice or words of wisdom, just a place to put this out there and no longer swirling around in my head:

• Nick has always had the most adorable hands. They look like little starfish. I've been calling them his starfish hands since he was a newborn. I noticed last night that he's getting little knuckles, and a wrist instead of a crease between arm and hand. The starfish hands are leaving, and that makes me sad. He would not, however, consent to me taking a picture of his hands. Guess I'll have to wait until he's sleeping...
• I want a dog.
• I am not as compassionate as I'd like to be. Sometimes I just don't feel enough pity, or sympathy, as I feel like I should. That's not nice. I want to be nice.
• I expect more from people than they are often able to give.
• I expect more from myself that I am able to give.
• I love Christmas, even more now that I have kids. So why am I having such a hard time with the Christmas Spirit this year? My shopping is 99% finished, so I should be happy, right? Right? Well, I still feel stressed/nervous/not so happy about everything.
• My kids are smarter than me. Really.
• I am getting a cold. I can feel it.
• I am very nervous about these wedding pictures I've agreed to do on Friday. That's alot of responsibility.
• Andy is the fun parent. I know one of us has to be, but sometimes I wish it was me. I'm the disciplinarian. I know one of us has to be, but sometimes I wish it was Andy.
• I want to know how to do that strikeout thing where I draw a line through a word. I've never figured it out. It frustrates me.
• I want the soundtrack(s) to Gray's Anatomy.
  
• I want to scrapbook more. Or, I need more time to scrapbook. Whichever.

But mostly, I just want the Starfish Hands to not go away. It's like a symbol, of change or growth or a new phase in life. And I'm not so sure I'm ready.

Not everyone is like me. Not everyone thinks like I do, or views things as I do. Of course they don't. The world would be a boring, boring place if everyone was the same.

I expect alot out of myself. I want to be the best at everything I attempt. I imagine this is why I don't attempt alot of things--because I desperately fear failure. I'm very self critical, and not too many things meet my standards. I'm never quite happy with my photographs or scrapbook pages, no matter how many people rave over them. My hair is never quite right, no matter how hard I try (although, I've about given up that battle!). I'll re-write a handwritten letter several times over if I notice an error, rather than scratch it out. I won't share cookies I've made if I think they're too hard or too mushy. My house is never clean enough. I'm just that way.

I don't guess that's a big deal. It makes me stressed alot of the time, but it also ensures good results for the majority of my commitments--be they work-related or personal. You can rest assured that if you ask me to do something for you, it will be done well.

The problem is that I expect as much out of everyone else as I do myself. And that's really not fair, because I realize that sometimes my standards are impossibly high. For example, when Andy went to the Police Academy 2 years ago, there were 20 people in his class. I fully expected him to graduate first in his class. To make 100 percent on every exam. And I'll admit to a teeny tiny bit of disappointment when he graduated third in his class. And I'll be the first to say that that's stupid. But it's true. I was so, so proud of his accomplishment, but still a little disappointed that he wasn't the best. I haven't always been this way. I've gotten more critical/hopeful/disciplined as I've gotten older. I couldn't tell you why, but I have.

I've been thinking alot this week about the expectations I have for my children. I think, truthfully, that I'm setting them up for failure, and setting myself up for disappointment. I realize now that I huge part of the reason I was so upset and embarrassed with Drew's behavior at school is that I expect him to be more than he's capable of being. I expect him to be the smartest in his class, the most well-behaved, the most popular. At some point in time he may be one or all of those things. Or he may never be any of those things.

He may never want to be any of those things. And really, that's OK. It has to be. My kids can be nothing but who they are. And as long as they're being the best that they can be, trying hard and living good lives, I should be happy. Their happiness should equal my happiness (within reason, of course).

It's OK if Andy does his job differently than I would. Trust me, with my temper and attitude no one wants me doing his job! It's even alright if we don't have the same opinion about high-speed car chases, or the death penalty, or abortion rights, or anything else (even if he is wrong, wrong, wrong).

It's alright if Drew wants to hunt. And it's alright if Nick doesn't. It's fine for Nick to love to read but for Drew to not care so much about it.

I am going to make an effort, a real effort, from here on out, to be more accepting of my family (and my friends) the way they are. To not set the bar so high that they can never hope to reach it. To be loving and supportive and not so critical. I'm really going to try.

In return, however, they need to realize that I am who I am. While I may change my outlook, I will still hold myself to the same standards I've held myself to all this time. And if I'm going to be fair to everyone else, to sit back and let them be who they are, they need to do the same for me.

Callie is here. My friends have left for Hawaii, and she's all settled in. She came with her bowls, and her food all packaged in individual baggies. She brought chew toys and balls. She brought her collar and her leash and a blankie from home. The boys, of course, are thrilled. Andy is accepting. I am pleased. The only ones not happy are the cats and, well, they'll get used to it.

I love animals. All animals. I'm not picky. Give me a dog or a cat or a cow or a horse, and I'll probably pay more attention to it that to any human in my presence--at least for the first few minutes. We have cats in our home, and I love them. We have a hamster. And fish. We've had a dog, but we don't really live in a safe place for dogs. Sometime I'll let Drew tell you what happened to Fritz. And, to be fair, we don't really have a lifestyle that would be nice for a dog. We're gone all day, and even though our yard is fenced it's not all that secure for a determined animal. Dogs have escaped it before. Meaning, the dog would be in a crate or in one small room all day. And I'm not really wanting a small dog, which would make the confinement rather uncomfortable for it. So, we don't have a dog.

But I want a dog.

Having Callie here just reinforces that want. She's lying beside me as I type, and every so often she'll just thump her tail to let me know she's content. She runs and plays with the boys, and even though this isn't her real home she's just as protective, letting out a warning bark if anyone pulls into the driveway. The first thing I'll do when we move farther into the country, the very first thing I'll do, will be to get a dog. A nice, big, friendly dog to play with in the yard and who'll sleep at the foot of my bed at night.

I can't wait.

Getting up early isn't all bad. I mean, if I wasn't on my way to work at 6:15 this morning, I never would have seen this:

That's actually taken from my driveway. I took the boys to the sitter, and then on the way back past the house I stopped for this photo. I took a few more a few miles down the road, but this was the most spectacular moment. It made for a nice drive, just admiring the sky. Except for dodging the deer (and they're moving now, what with being shot at all weekend!) it was quite relaxing.

So, I'm in a rush tonight. I'm going to share with you a list of phrases that my boys have picked up recently and use all the time. I don't know where they got most of these, but they crack me up every time I hear them saying :

• Oh my goodness grief!
• Awesome! (pronounced with a Valley Girl accent, so Awe-Some!)
• I'm outta here! Way outta here! (used in totally the wrong context, usually when one of them made a mistake. As is, "I'm wrong? I'm outta here!)
• Let's rock-and-roll, baby!
• You want a piece of me?
  
• Comin' at you! Fire, aaaannnd, launch! (used when you're about to get a hug with a running start)
  
• I'm so crazy I should be committed (pronounced 'commended').
• Five is almost a grown up, right? Three is not, but five is definitely ready to drive.
  

Do I have the only kids with such an interesting vocabulary? Do share? What do your kids say (or did they say, when they were little) that's just too funny for words?

• Andy left on Sunday morning (way early, before the rest of us got up) for Phoenix to visit his parents. He didn't return until Thursday night at 8:30. He had a wonderful time, and as soon as I go through the pictures he took I'll share some with you.
• My dad is still in the rehab facility for his hip, so there's been that to think about.
• Drew is learning to read. He can read and spell out loud all the words from the "at" family (you know, cat, bat, that, brat, etc...) plus the words I, is, a, see, and the. So, he can read to me a sentence like "That fat cat is a brat" or "I see that hat". Pretty cool.
  
• Drew is also supposed to be learning to count and recognize numbers to 20, but since he can already count and recognize numbers to 100 we don't have to work too hard on that one. Instead we're working on matching "one" with "1", and so on.
• Nick has been practicing writing his name. He can do it. It's HUGE, but still says Nick.
  
• Oh, and Nick can draw a pretty cool smiley face, too.
• Andy went yesterday morning with Nick to visit my dad. Dad, however, didn't want visitors so instead they hung out with my brother. And with my sister-in-law and my mom last night. Nick had a blast.
• Nick is getting sick. He's got a hacking cough, and I can hear him getting congested.
• I am totally caught up on laundry, and we mowed the lawn for the final time this week.
• I framed a print for my friend Melissa, and it's a ready to mail out on Monday.

And I have an interesting week ahead of me, too:

• I don't have to go to work on Monday, because I have CPR and first aid training all day. I'm not sure yet if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I mean, hey, a paid day off is always good! But I'm already certified and this is an 8 hour refresher course, so it's going to be boring.
  
• Next Thursday my friends are leaving for Hawaii, and while I'm incredibly jealous of their 10 day vacation at the expense of her mother (they're going for the Maui Invitational basketball tournament, and they're flying on the plane and having Thanksgiving dinner with the Kentucky Wildcats) we get the dog for 10 whole days! I don't feel like our lifestyle/accommodations right now are suitable for a dog so we don't have one, but I so want one. I love dogs. And Callie, is, well, perfect. Obedient, housebroken, and loving. And mine, all mine, for 10 whole days.
• I have to get my Christmas cards all addressed and ready to send out, so they'll be ready to go after Thanksgiving. They're really cool, and I have lots. If you'd like one and you're not already on my card list, send me your address. But you have to send me one in return--that's the deal. I love to get Christmas cards!
• I need to practice because I'm doing a wedding photo shoot (ahhhhh!) the day after Thanksgiving. They're friends or I never would have agreed. But I need to go to the church about the same time of day and pose my kids (or whoever I can get to pose for me) around and see where the light is best, etc...

OK. Bored yet? And tomorrow is Photo Sunday, so you won't have to listen to me ramble anymore until Monday.

First of all, a big thank-you to Kellie for filling in for me last night. Beni is a cutie--she looks alot like Stripey.

In Kellie's post, she mentioned that Doug complained that I never mention him in my posts. This is probably because I live over a hundred miles away, and we don't see each other on a daily basis. The reason he was compelled to mention it is because he's a pest, and since he was born it's been his mission in life to bug me. So, I'm writing a post about my brothers, so that you guys all know that they exist.

Meet Doug:

Hey, ya'll didn't think I was going to do this without tormenting them a little, did you? And please excuse the shoddy quality of the photos--I don't own a scanner so these are pictures of pictures.

Anyway, that's my baby brother Doug. He's 6 years younger than me, and in this photo I'm guessing he's about 11-12. It is, obviously, Christmas Morning. As I said before, Doug is a pest. And really, I mean this in a loving way. But isn't that the job of younger brothers, to torment you all of your life? Here are some examples:

• One time my brothers and I were playing ice hockey with sticks and pine knots. Doug blacked my eye. An accident, but still...
• One time I was perched innocently on the arm of the couch, and Doug pushed me. He did this often, actually. But this time I cut my elbow on the recliner mechanism. I still have a scar. Unintentional, but still...
• Every roll of film I ever had developed had a picture of Doug taking a picture of himself. Every single one.
• Every time I fixed (well, this still happens) a drink and set it down, Doug would come behind me and drink it all. Every time. That gets annoying.

But, despite the pestiness, Doug is cool. We used to hike together in the woods, and ride bikes and play. He's a great baby brother. And, he's all grown up now. He's married to a really great girl, and like Kellie said, he's well on his way to becoming a fireman. Won't that be awesome? The boys adore him, too.

Now, I have another brother. He's 3 years younger than me. Meet Chip:

I feel certain that this was Easter Sunday. It's probably about 5 AM, because we always went to sunrise service. And Mom always took a picture of us in our Easter finery.

Hey--notice all the high-tech electronics in the background. I just wish you could see the carpet!

Chip is a really great brother, too. He was never quite as pesty as Doug--being the middle child he was a bit more reserved. He played the drums in high school for both the concert band and the marching band, and was quite good. And now I think he plays several instruments, but I'm not really sure. I know he still can play the drums, and most percussion instruments, I think. He can also play guitar, and I'm fairly certain he's a decent vocalist if he wants to be. He's a welder by profession these days, when he's not off because of injury (car accident this summer...). He's dating a really great girl, Shira, and from what I understand they'll be getting married at some point.

All in all, I couldn't ask for a better family. And, since I'm relatively certain they're going to be slightly annoyed at me posting those incredibly flattering photos of them, I'm going to make it up to them by posting this incredibly flattering photo of myself:

That's me, and my Grandpa Hewitt. I'm guessing it was probably Christmas Eve. And I'm guessing I was about 12-14, judging by the awesome late 80's/early 90's hairdo.

So, Doug, now I've mentioned you. And Chip. And humiliated myself. Are you happy now? Pass the firefighter exam and I'll dedicate another post to you.

That's Callie. She's the dog that's going to be staying with us for 10 days at Thanksgiving. Isn't she pretty?

I'm not feeling so hot today. Sad isn't really the word to describe how I feel, but it's the only one I can come up with. Crabby would be another. Or unsettled. Possibly disagreeable. I'm not sick. For once I don't even have a headache. I just don't feel right.

Nothing remarkable happened today, for good or for bad. But all day I've felt like this. And it's making me paranoid. Someone is in a bad mood? Probably my fault. Why didn't they feel like running errands with me at lunch? Why didn't so-and-so call when he said he would? Is he mad at me? Why won't the boys settle? Is it me? Is it me? Probably. No one wants to hang out with a crab.

Perhaps the worry from Dad's surgery is finally catching up with me. Or maybe it's just my day to be down and I'll wake up tomorrow in a better mood. All is know is that lately I feel like I have more sad/crabby/unsettled/disagreeable days than I used to. And I don't like it.

Tell me a joke. Send me a link to an outrageous news story. Post a funny cartoon and let me see it. Cheer me up, please.

I hope everyone exercised their right to vote today. Although, I don't view it as much as a right to vote as I do a responsibility to vote. I am not a very political person. I avoid political discussion at almost all costs, mostly because I don't feel like I'm educated enough on all the issues to debate. I do, however, make sure that I am informed enough to make a decision on election day.

I voted at 6:05 this morning (well, I got to the polls at 6:05). It was good to see that there was a line--that means people are actually out there voting! I only had to wait about 15 minutes, because there were 3 voting machines. But in a small community like this, the wait isn't bad. There were no fewer than 10 people that I know in line with me, and 2 of my good friends were working the polls. It was a pleasant way to start the day.

On the way to work from the polling site, I saw the biggest deer I've ever seen. He was huge--a real monster buck. I know he had be 14 points, with a rack that was wider than his ears by several inches. I had my camera with me, but it was still fairly dark. And besides, I think you've seen that I need a better lens for wildlife photography. *grin*

This afternoon the boys and I had a long discussion about voting. The questioning started when Drew wanted to know why he didn't have school today. It ended with me taking them over to the polls and showing them the voting machines. I don't know how much they truly understood, but they know it's something very important.
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My dad has officially moved from the hospital to rehab. That's a good thing. They think he'll be home in a week, maybe sooner, and cruising around pretty well by Christmas. Everyone is so excited that he'll be able to live a normal life free of pain, most of all him!

This morning, after dropping the boys off at the sitter and driving to work, I sat down at my computer. I checked my e-mail and then I checked my bloglines to see who had posted since I had signed off last night. The first thing I chose to read was from my soon-to-be sister-in-law--this post right here.

It made me a little sad. Because I remember feeling just how she feels. Feeling like you're leaving part of yourself behind, a little part of your heart now in the care of strangers. And they are strangers, for the longest time. No matter how carefully you screen these people, no matter how well you feel like you know them, they're not you. Even after Drew was with Ms. Trish for two years, and had proven herself absolutely trustworthy, it hurt me and made me cry to leave Nick with her when he was so very tiny.

Also, in a totally different way her post made me a little sad because I don't always feel that way any more. I'm not always sad when I leave them in the mornings. Like this morning, when Nick was angry with me because I didn't fill his milk cup to the perfectly precise level that he was demanding and Drew was feeling defiant and refusing to wear his tennis shoes even though it was gym day, it almost felt good to leave them. Well, perhaps good isn't the right term. Let's say it was a relief. And that feels wrong. Like I'm leaving someone else to raise my children, and I'm OK with that because it's easier.

In truth, however, it's not that simple. I have no choice but to work, and honestly, and much as I would love to be able to stay home with my boys, I don't think I'd be very good at it. I don't necessarily have the patience it would take to spend 24/7 in the presence of 2 small children. I would try, and I'm not saying I couldn't do it. But I may be crabby alot. Or I may not. Who knows? Fact is, our life is this way because of the babysitter. Everything would be different if I had stayed home the past 5 years. Because Drew didn't want to wear those tennis shoes only because Bradley wasn't wearing his. And Nick wants his milk filled exactly that way because that's how Ms. Trish does it.

The boys love Ms. Trish. They've made friendships that could last a lifetime. They've eaten foods they might not have ever tasted living here, because it's stuff Andy and I don't like. They've made me craft projects and accomplished academic skills that they might not have at home with me, simply because it might not have occurred to me to teach them. And they have another person in their lives that loves them as much as their parents do. That's important.

I hope Aiva's first day at daycare went wonderfully. I hope it was easier on Shira than she was thinking it was going to be, although probably not. Because like I said, I remember. I remember how it feels.

And tomorrow I'm going to make more of an effort to love my children. Not that I don't love them every day, but sometimes I need to love them better.

Sunset last night, long exposure on a windy day. Makes the clouds look blurry. I can't decide if I like it or not. What do you think? Good or bad idea?

Yesterday my friend Mark shot a deer, and I took the boys out to see it. Drew was absolutely thrilled. I took some pictures of him posing with it, and was going to post them for Photo Sunday, but I didn't because I wasn't sure how you guys would feel about the dead deer pictures. I know my mom, for instance, wouldn't like it at all. So, if you'd like to see Drew with the deer, look here or go to my flickr site for several shots. Warning: you will see blood.

This week has been so weird. I just can't keep track of the days, and I feel like it should have been Friday AGES ago. Monday was pretty normal, but then Tuesday felt odd because #1, it was Halloween and everyone was feeling festive, and #2, I came home way early because Nick was sick. Then the trick-or-treating, and then Wed. was so long because #1, it came after a late night and I was tired, and #2, it was the day of Dad's surgery and I was waiting on phone calls all day. And today, well today should have been Friday just because I'm so confused and so tired and I have a terrible headache. And I lied to my Mom and told her that I don't have a headache because I feel like she has enough to worry about with Dad, and now I'm a little sad because I lied and even if it was for her own good I don't like to lie, especially to my parents. But she worries, I guess because she's my mom, and it is a bad headache that hasn't gone away since yesterday. My latest meds have pretty much become ineffective, just like all the others I've tried eventually did.

Mom's internet service is down, and she's at the hospital anyway, so she won't read this for probably a week. So, when you do read this, sorry Mom.

At any rate, Daddy is doing pretty well. The pain meds are making him a bit sick, but he did get up on two separate occasions today and walk a pretty good distance on his brand-spanking-new hip. We're planning a quick trip home tomorrow to say hi and give him a hug, and then we have to run right back because...

...Sunday morning at 6AM Andy needs to be on a plane to Phoenix. He's going to visit his parents for a week or so. He's quite excited. Of course, a 6AM flight means he needs to be at the airport in Nashville by 5AM, and the airport is a good hour and a half from here. He's gonna be up early!

Whew. Tired of listening to me whine yet? I've about got supper on the table now--smoked sausage, mac and cheese, and biscuits. The boys, of course, are not thrilled because it's not pizza or chicken strips. But I know they like it somewhat and will at least eat.

Here we have Sir Peter, from the Chronicles of Narnia. He's a little angry because I wouldn't let him pose for all of the pictures holding his blankie. Yeah, I'm mean. But I also wanted you guys to see the awesomeness of his costume (yep, I made it) and you couldn't see it when he had the blankie.

And here's Ninja Drew. He's looking a little bulky because I made him layer up--the temperature was in the 40's. But he still was quite ninja-like, if you ask me.

And, after 2 hours of trick-or-treating, we came home with this:

Anyone want some candy?

Both boys enjoyed themselves immensely. Nick still wasn't feeling 100%, but he insisted on going and he did fine. A little whiny at times, but fine. There was one incident that occurred that I'm going to tell you about, and it sums up my children's personalities perfectly.

There was one house on a corner that was a scary house. It had a big graveyard set up in the front, and there were 'ghosts' and 'corpses' that crawled out from behind the tombstones to scare trick-or treaters. And if you were brave enough to cross the graveyard to get your candy, there was a vampire handing it out. And then a man with a chainsaw (a real chainsaw) would chase after you until you left the premises. The boys insisted on going in this yard, and I finally caved in and let them even though I was certain they'd be terrified.

So, we're walking through this creepy yard, and this girl in a tattered old formal dress comes crawling out from behind a tombstone and straight at Nick. Her face was all painted up to look gory, her hair was all sticking up everywhere, and she was carrying a bouquet of dead flowers. Nick looked down at her creeping around his feet and said "Why are you dead?". She was a little caught off guard, but answered in a really scary voice "I was killed on my prom night!". He studied her for a second and then asked "does that make you sad?". When she said yes, he told her he was sorry she died.

Only my children.

Then, the man with the chainsaw was chasing the princess in front of the boys, and Drew said "that man's not very nice, trying to cut people up like that!" and offered (to the princess) to use his Ninja moves to scare him away.

Like I said, only my children. And from that moment on, all I heard was "why is that girl dead?" and "I don't want her to be sad" and "can we help that girl be alive, Mom?".

Sheesh.

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My dad had surgery today, ya'll. He had a hip replacement. He's needed it for a long, long time but only just now conceded to the surgery. He was in so much pain that I'm fairly certain the pain of recovery won't be much to him at all. Anyway, he came through the surgery just fine after a little bit longer than the doctors estimated it would take and is now recovering from the anesthesia. I talked to Mom right after and she assured me that all was well, but I haven't been able to speak to him yet. Tonight, hopefully.