Lucky Seven

Seven years ago today was my first date with this hunka hunka burnin' love.



(This is one of the few pictures I have from his ordination service--this is from before the service.)


Here we are, in all our youth and glory, on our honeymoon.


Somewhere, there are pictures from when we were dating. But those are on film. I know. Perhaps I'll bust out the scanner. When those pictures actually get unpacked. So, look for those sometime, I don't know...next year, or something.

Taste of Summer

Dessert tonight took me back. A thousand memories of summers past came flooding in. Memories of dinner at Grandma's, dinner with friends in my college apartment over the summers, and the nights I wasn't sure if I wanted to cook, and just took a spoon to half a melon.


Yes, a melon.

Cantaloupe, specifically.

Nothing says summer to me like a good, fresh, cantaloupe.

I treated myself to a ginormous fruit cup from the local farmer's market. By the time I thought to take the picture, I'd already eaten the strawberries off the top.

As much as this absolutely made my dinner, Hubba Hubba is not a fan of the cantaloupe. This:

totally grosses him out. He thinks it tastes rotten. Literally, rotten. Can you imagine?

Today's Special

My giftings do not include car maintenance.

Once upon a time, I was making the long drive from the True North Strong and Free back to New Jersey. By myself. I was feeling pretty proud of myself, actually, for having attempted the(thus far successful) trip. When I was about 30 minutes from the U.S. border, still on the good ol' QEW, my car decided that steering was no longer in its job description. As was the whole "forward motion" thing.

Amazingly enough, I was near an exit, and I managed to get the car off the exit ramp, and on the side of the road. At dusk. Across from nothing but a rather seedy looking "motel."

Really.

I don't remember if I just didn't have my cell, or if it wouldn't roam in Canada, or what. For whatever reason, I had to trudge my way across the road to the motel, and use the payphone to call AAA. Except I was still in the TNSAF, so it was CAA I called. The very kind lady got help sent to me, and very strongly urged me to not wait in the motel bar.

I didn't.

A very nice tow truck driver came to rescue us, I got to spend the night in a hotel by myself, and CAA fixed the serpentine belt on my car.

Fast forward to yesterday. I was on my way to my monthly indulgence--a massage. I didn't used to be one of those people that got a regular massage. (I secretly always wanted to be one, though.) However, I found a great, reasonably priced massage therapist, and I find it really does help.

But I digress.

So there I was, driving happily along, blissfully unaware that disaster was about to strike. As I turned onto the street my masseuse was located on, my car decided to reminisce about that time we were driving home from the TNSAF. Once again, steering went out the window. Once again, my car crawled to a stop. Just like before. I thought to myself, "Well, there goes the serpentine belt."

I was totally proud of myself for remembering what the thing was called.

I phoned Hubba Hubba, who said he would come "take care of it", and I walked the remaining block and a half to my appointment. But not before I followed Hubba Hubba's advice to put a rag, or something, in the window. I assured him I'd find something, but all I could find was an dried out diaper wipe.

It worked, I guess.

After my appointment, I ventured out in the rain, expecting to see HH and a tow truck. Instead, there was my car, parked neatly in the parking lot of the masseuse. A block and a half away from where it died.

What?

I called Hubba Hubba. I heard a hint of amusement in his voice as he explained that my car had not, in fact died. The serpentine belt was just fine. The car had merely stalled.

Yeah. I never bothered to try and start the car--I assumed it was the serpentine belt, like before, and went from there.

Cars: not my specialty.

His First Car

Look out, world! Wiggle Man's got wheels.

Apparently, this is what happens when Hubba Hubba has time to kill at the mall (imagine how often that happens.) He'd been wanting to get one of these little cars for The Wiggle for a while now, found himself at the mall with some time on his hands, and voila. (I wonder if I should drop some hints about a stand mixer....or perhaps a new pair of shoes. )




It seems that Hubba Hubba and the Fisher Price Company have slightly different definitions of the terms "minimal assembly required." I think it's the "minimal" part they differ upon.

Luckily for Hubba Hubba, Wiggle Man was ready and willing to help.

He was even willing to take it for a test drive. Wheels? He don't need no stinkin' wheels.

There was no keeping Wiggle Man from this car. Let's just say Hubba Hubba learned his lesson, and now puts together any new toys while The Wiggle is conveniently sleeping.

Here he is, in all his new found freedom. Wiggle Man hasn't quite got the hang of going forward yet, but he does a mean reverse.

Beep, beep!

Sunny Days

Well, Wiggle Man got his Sesame breakfast after all. We didn't realise it was going on until after the office had closed for the evening, so I was worried we wouldn't get in. But get in we did, and I'm so glad. It was a blast. They had all the characters show up, and take pictures with each child. The kids got gift bags, too, which was a nice touch, I thought.

The breakfast was in the same restaurant where Hubba Hubba and I had dinner last night. A bit of a transformation from the quiet, romantic, white gloved service atmosphere to:




Speaking of date night with Hubba Hubba, I wish I'd brought my camera. The reasons for that are twofold. One: the only picture we have of Hubba Hubba and I dressed up on our date was taken by one of the resort employees on their camera, and when we looked at it this morning in the photo hut I hated it. I'm sitting all sideways-ey and it looks like I have no neck. Two: I can't show you the awesome appetizer I had. I ordered tropical fruits in a pineapple hut, thinking it would come in some sort of pineapple cup. Nope--it actually was a little pineapple hut, complete with pineapple roof. I almost didn't want to eat it.

I did, though.

Back to breakfast: what a great job the resort did. There was a DJ playing Sesame Street music, all the decorations were Sesame Street, and I love how each employee, from the Kids Camp counselors to the wait staff, really seem to love the kids.

This is one of Wiggle Man's new favourite loveys, chillin' with us at breakfast:



The only slight disappointment so far has been that the resort is shooting some marketing photos today, so we couldn't use the beach or the pools. Here's the photographer's chopper. Is it wrong that I wanted to shake my fist in anger at him every time I saw him?




We were pretty upset at first, but the customer relations team came through. All the guests today had their choice of various complimentary tours and attractions--we chose a local water park, thinking Wiggle Man would love it.

We were wrong. Evidently, the kids pool area terrified him, as did the lazy river. Who knew that giant buckets of water landing on your head, and flipping over in a tube with your Dad on the lazy river could be scary?

So, we headed to another resort we'd been given access to, and spent the rest of the day on the beach there.

And finally, to finish things off, more photographic proof that I am indeed on vacation. Yes, I'm pretty red...sunscreen only goes so far, apparently. Happily, I'm darkening to a nice beige today. (I never really get nice and brown. I just stop looking the colour of paper.) Like my diva sunglasses? I tried some "fierce" poses yesterday...I don't think Tyra would be proud.

Thoughts From The Shower...And A Silly Plea

I take what Hubba Hubba likes to call "Hollywood Showers." By that, of course, he means any shower lasting longer than his 5-Minute Scrub-A-Dub Express. Although, condensation does have a tendency to accumulate on the walls of our bathroom, regardless of the fan, whenever I hop in the shower, so perhaps he has a point.

At any rate, I'm a fan of my showers. Hot water--good. Shampoo smells--good. And while all this is going on, my mind has a tendency to wander. So, today I thought I'd share some of those thoughts with you.

Daily shower cleaner actually works when you use it daily. If you're like me, you normally only remember to spray it when you want the bathroom to smell nice (Method's ylang ylang is especially lovely). But lately, out of sheer curiosity, I've been spraying it after each shower. And you know what? My shower's cleaner. Who'd have thunk it?

Is it really going to give me better results if I squeeze the tube of toothpaste from the bottom? (Yes, I brush my teeth in the shower. Anything to prolong the hot water fest.) I mean, sure--you don't end up with the battle half-way through the tube where you're trying to squeeze the paste trapped in the bottom of the tube up to the top...but come on. "For best results"? Surely my teeth are just as clean as the most conscientious bottom-of-the-tube squeezer.

I almost typed "bottom-squeezer" but thought better of it. It sounded naughty.

Also, how long will it take before Hubba Hubba gets fed up with the massive collection of shampoo bottles I have in there? The current count is three. Three different brands, along with their respective conditioners. (Actually, I have two Dove conditioners, because I mistakenly bought two conditioners, instead of a shampoo and a conditioner, so I had to go back and buy the shampoo later.)

You can think through a lot of stuff in a Hollywood shower. Unfortunately for your intellectual enrichment, I can't really remember anything else.

So here's my silly plea: follow me on twitter. Please? I just signed up yesterday, mainly to be able to get updates on Stellan (click on my Praying For Stellan button to go to MckMama's blog and learn more). But every time I sign in, that box telling me I have no followers just mocks me. So, if you twitter, please follow me! I'll try and make it worth your while.

No Rest For The Wicked...Well, Maybe A Little...

Hubba Hubba and I are trying very hard to find some time to get away, just the two of us. This is the best we could come up with.

We leave tonight to go stay at a friend's beach house. (THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!) Wiggle Man will stay with his Auntie and Uncle, or rather, they'll stay with him. Tomorrow morning I drive back to town to lead worship, then head back to the beach to spend the rest of the day with Hubba Hubba. Monday morning he drives back to town to work, and then back to the beach. Then we both head back to town so I can lead my worship team rehearsal Monday night.

Doesn't that sound like a relaxing way to spend a weekend? Yup.

Hey, don't get me wrong--I'll take it!

I may or may not get a Not Me! Monday post in--I won't have internet, so it will depend on whether I get it written and scheduled before I leave. Considering all the laundry and packing still to do, not to mention the grades I have to have in for Monday, and the plan for Monday's rehearsal, it may not happen. Or it may. You'll have to check in Monday morning to see for yourself!

The Not Me! Mondays...

It's Monday morning. There's frost on the ground, and I'm writing this BEFORE MckMama's Not Me! Monday post! Check her out though, she'll have it up soon, I'm sure. Probably by the time I'm done writing mine! So here they are, my weekly confessions. Be sure to check out the bottom of this post for some secret-announcement contest information!

This week:

*I did not let my work outs slip because I've been feeling blarghy.

*I did not refuse to move the dead mole that Chloe killed and proudly left outside our door. It is not still sitting there as I type. I have not been walking around it all week.

*I do not let Wiggle Man play with a spatula. He, in turn, does not prefer it to his toys. The ones we spent money on.

* Speaking of the Wiggle Man, I did not let him sit in his crib for 20 minutes after he woke up because I didn't want to get up yet. Even though he slept in later than usual.

*I did not institute "Pajama Day" on Saturday because I felt to gross to even get dressed, and decided to try and make a fun day out of it for Wiggle Man. We did not stay in our jammies all day, and we did not have breakfast for dinner.

*I did not stay up until 2 am one night waiting for Hubba Hubba to call because he was out of town.

*I did not buy a bag of caramels at the farmer's market this weekend. I did not eat them all in two days.

*I am not having difficulty thinking of more Not Me!s because I want to get breakfast. Which I'll do in just a minute, but first....


Secret-Announcement-Contest Information!!!!!!!

It's almost time for me to share my secret with you. But first, I thought I'd have some fun with it. So, I want to hear your guesses on what my secret is. You can check old posts for what it's not, if you need to. If you know (and you know who you are...) please don't guess! I'm going to moderate the comments and won't post contest-related comments until the contest ends, so your guess will remain a secret from other contestants. (So much secrecy going on...)

Leave a comment with your best guess at what my secret is. I'll leave the contest open until Wednesday at noonish. The first person who gets it right, or comes closest by Wednesday will get a prize that relates somehow to my secret! So, start guessing!

Not Me! Monday Time

Well, readers, it's been a few days since I posted. I hope you missed me. :) After a crazy weekend, I'm proud to present my edition of Not Me! Monday. For the original (and best) Not Me! Monday blog, check out MckMama. If you're still craving more NM!M fun, she has links to other blogs joining in the fun.

This week:

I did not sleep in way too often, rather than get up and work out.

I did not sit idly by while Wiggle Man mooched second breakfasts of Hubba Hubba and Auntie, even though I'd already fed him breakfast. What kind of mother lets her kid eat two breakfasts?

I did not give in and give Wiggle Man yogurt even though he'd already had one that day, just because he was pointing frantically at the fridge and I didn't feel like arguing. No, I maintain consistency between what I say and what I do. Boundaries, friends. Children need boundaries.

I did not spend yesterday on the couch with a blanket and snacks watching the Phillies and Eagles games, simply because I felt 'weird.'

I did not then have to rapidly finish lesson plans and grades for my substitute job before friends came over because I'd procrastinated all afternoon due to the aforementioned 'weirdness.'

I did not drink a glass of wine before bed over the weekend in the hopes it would help me sleep. (In my defense, it was Hubba Hubba's idea. And it didn't work.)

I have not been having trouble sleeping because my brain will not shut down, but rather thinks through a million different scenarios related to a big announcement coming up in the next two weeks. (Remember, it's not a baby. That's all I'll say for now.)

I do not bake for worship team rehearsals just for an excuse to bake treats.

I will not be trying this butter tart recipe for the same reason. Nor do I drool at the picture of the Joy Of Baking website.

I did not drink an inordinate amount of Diet Pepsi this weekend simply because the cans were in the fridge and I was too lazy to pour a glass of water.

I am not excited about adding those Pepsi Stuff points to my account.

I did not take Wiggle Man out without shoes or socks this morning because I feel like going upstairs to get them.

There you have them--things that I did not do this week. If only I could remember what I actually did do...just kidding.

Perfect Days

I can't help feeling that life is perfect and full these days. Perhaps it's the change to fall--one of my favourite seasons. I love snuggling in sweatshirts while it's cool outside, and reading with a cup of tea.

Perhaps it's watching Wiggle Man grow and learn new things every day. He's so smart, it honestly makes me want to laugh with joy. He points to where he wants to go. (Usually outside, towards the chickens or the ducks.) He knows the chickens eat grass, not dirt, and picks some to feed to them. Heck, he can feed it to the chickens by himself now. He knows his yogurt is kept in the fridge, and will point to the fridge when he wants yogurt. He signs "all done" when he's full, waves good-bye when you tell him it's "night nights", and has very definite choices about which book to read before bed-time.

Perhaps it's watching the Phillies kick butt. It's ok--the Phils are only my NL team. If we ever repeated '93, I'd be cheering for the Jays all the way. I sing the Jays' song to taunt Hubba Hubba, and frequently threaten to pull out the commemorative VHS from the '93 Series. Even in inter-league play, for the few games the Jays and Phillies face off, I'm a Jays fan. And I've gotten my fair share of dirty looks at Citizen's Bank Park. But still--it's nice to cheer for the same team as your husband, as long as my loyalties don't conflict.

Maybe there's something fulfilling in being just a little old-fashioned. My clothes are out on the line (a fact that stunned a teenager recently--"you have a clothesline? Cool!") or the fact that I'm attempting to make my own chicken stock as I type this. I love days where I do things the old-fashioned, homemade way. Perhaps I'll bake a pie to top the day off.

Whatever the cause, I'm thankful for the joy that bubbles under the surface. I'd like to tell it to kick off its shoes and stay awhile. Since I know that's not likely, I'll just have to enjoy it while it's here.

Rock Stars and Worshippers

Last night was my first official night "on the job." You may remember I've started a new part-time job at a local church as their contemporary worship leader. I'll admit I felt a little apprehensive going into that first rehearsal. Even though I knew many on the team from the year Hubba Hubba spent interning at that church, there was still that unknown factor. How would we fit together as a team? How would they handle new leadership? My leadership?

I'm a firm believer that baked goods can pave the way for good relationships. A little old fashioned maybe, it's somewhat along the lines of bringing a pie to the new neighbours. So, I baked my favourite brownie recipe. (Any excuse to bake brownies, really...I love brownie batter. Or cookie batter, for that matter. Cake batter's good, too. You get the point.)

Armed with fresh out of the oven brownies and a plan to spend the beginning of rehearsal chatting about what worship means, off I went.

Being a worship leader is an odd thing, sometimes. You're the one up front, singing the songs, and your mic is the loudest. Naturally, people look at you the most. For some people, that may be part of the appeal, I don't know.

I tend to think there's a difference between being a rock star, and being a worship leader. (Besides the metallic shirts, tight jeans and pyrotechnics, of course.) The difference isn't training, or skill levels. Sound checks are just as important. Good equipment is just as important. I would even argue that talent is important.

Don't get me wrong here, friends. I think God uses, and blesses, the best we give Him. Whatever our 'best' may be. But I think He wants and deserves our best. That's the key difference between a rock star and me--my heart. The reason I do what I do needs to be love for my Lord. That love is what should motivate me to practise, to hone my skills, to choose the best equipment, and do whatever else is necessary to give Him by best. My all. Not a love for music, or performing, or anything else. Love for Jesus.

That's the gist of what I shared with my team last night. I hope they were as blessed by our time together as I was. And if they weren't--at least they got brownies.

I'm Not From Around Here...

Every once and a while, something will happen that reminds me I'm not actually from here. It's not always a big thing, and sometimes it's just a reminder that I grew up in a more...urban setting, shall we say. So it's a little odd sometimes that my nearest neighbours are nurseries and cows. Cows that like to escape and hang out on the church steps Sunday morning. But that's another story for another day.

Today's story is The Groundhog. It's always The Groundhog. Like there can't be more than one, or something. Hubba Hubba and his father are always talking about The Groundhog roaming around our properties. I could understand their concern if we actually had crops we were worried about.

Anyway, I guess Groundhog Fever gets us all, eventually, because this afternoon when my sister-in-law pointed, aghast, out the window at "the hugest groundhog" I went running. And then grabbed the camera, thinking Hubba Hubba would want to see The Groundhog to End All Groundhogs. Seriously. We might not have crops for this thing to eat, but we do have chickens, and I think he could take one down.

If you're not familiar with the stats on groundhogs, let me tell you: this guy is huge. The picture doesn't do him justice. (Apparently the camera removes pounds from groundhogs. How do I make this work for me?)

If this pretty little lady doesn't look worried, she should. There's a monster hiding under her bed! (Well...under her house...so I guess that counts.)

Why I Don't Buy White Shirts

If you're a regular here at Poutine, you know I love all things Target. I always spend too much money at Target, which is why Hubba Hubba gets a headache just looking at the place. If you read yesterday's Not Me! Monday post, you know about my stained white shirt. But let me elaborate, and fill you in on..."the rest of the story."

During one of my trips to "Jenn Paradise" (read: Target) last week, I bought a great little white button down shirt. Very cute, perfect for layering. Also, from the clearance rack, which makes it even more wonderful. Also makes it hard to replace if it gets, say....stained.

Proudly, I wear my new shirt to church Sunday morning. Hubba Hubba, Wiggle Man and I hit one of our favourite restaurants afterwards for some yummy pasta. I know what you're thinking: Ok, she got spaghetti on her new white shirt. How cliche.

Oh no, friends. I did not spill anything on my new white shirt. Wiggle Man did not get anything on my new white shirt.

Hubba Hubba.

There he was, across the table. I can see it in slo-mo: His piece of celery drops from his hand, traveling down toward his plate of wings slathered in hot sauce. Upon impact, hot sauce splatters up, not towards Hubba Hubba in his green shirt, no. Like a heat-seeking missile, it finds my crisp white shirt and heads right for it. Splat.

Seriously, people?

We come home, and Hubba Hubba gets the stain out. Go Hubba Hubba. Thank you, Shout. The shirt goes on the line to dry to prevent shrinkage. When it's dry, I head out to get it, and the other clothes, off the line. It's so picturesque--Wiggle Man screaming on the grass because he wants to play with the chickens NOW, and me crying. Crying? Because while my beautiful shirt was drying on the line, a bird pooped on it. Not just any bird. A bird that had apparently consumed a purple berry recently.

Seriously?

Again with the Shout. Two rounds, this time. Purple berry poop is hard to get out. The Shout and I prevailed. This time, the shirt is drying on a rack in the basement. It might not have that line-dried fresh scent, but at least it's safe from birds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Check out my blog in the next few days for my very first giveaway!

Not Me!

Ever have one of those days where you look back and think, "No way did I just do ____!"? Well, here's your chance to erase all that! It's the Not Me! Monday Carnival over at MckMama's! I've decided to join in the fun--you should, too! Check out My Charming Kids to see how.

So here it is, folks--my first Not Me! Monday post extraordinaire:

This past week...

*I did not have a turkey burger and fries for lunch. And then dinner.

*I did not go to Target twice. I also do not secretly hope to go again tonight.

*I did not indulge in Ferrero Rocher at the grocery store because it had been "one of those days." I did not also try and explain that to the cashier, and the kind woman behind me in line.

*I did not post pictures online simply because I liked how I looked in them.

*I did not get cranky because I got up with Wiggle Man Sunday morning. I did not spend the rest of the day cranky for that reason. My crankiness was not compounded when Hubba Hubba managed to spray chicken wing sauce all over my new white shirt from the aforementioned Target spree. I did not take the time to point out to Hubba Hubba that he managed to stay stain free.

*I did not let Wiggle Man stay up later last night, simply so I could finish watching my t.v. show.

*I have certainly not been thinking about how soon I can justifiably have a cookie this morning.

There you have it, friends. Things I have not been doing. Perhaps it's time to log off, and start not being productive for another day. Cookie, anyone?

Guilty Pleasures

We all have 'em. I probably have more than my share, but meh. Then I thought, hey...if you tell everyone your guilty pleasures, they're not so guilty anymore. Confession is good for the soul. I started thinking about this the other day when Hubba Hubba noticed I was watching Reba. I used to watch it because when you don't have cable, it's Reba or Oprah at 4 pm. I pick Reba. But the more I watch it, the more hilarious it is. In fact, even Hubba Hubba laughed out loud at some of those crazy Hart family antics.

Napping during the day is another fabulous thing to do when Wiggle Man lets me. Ditto for reading. Alright, anything that isn't housework is great to do in the afternoon! Watching several episodes of Friends in a row may seem like a waste of time, but it's an indulgent waste of time. Actually, it comes in quite handy when you're playing Scene It! Friends edition.

Chocolate is a whole category of guilty pleasure. My current favourite is dark chocolate covered peanuts. In fact, there's a bag on the computer desk right now. They constituted "lunch" when I added some cherries. With a big glass of water for my health.

I could go on and on, but I'm going to go be productive, and practice my stuff for Children of Eden, our family's current obsession. (Wiggle Man and Hubba Hubba will both be in the show, so it really is a family affair.) If you're local, talk to me about tickets!

Cheerios and Diet Pepsi

Some of you may know we're down in Tennessee working with Habitat for Humanity on a house this week. My job, since we have our sweet baby with us, is to help a local youth group run a VBS with the neighbourhood kids while the others work on the house. It's really exciting to see a neighbourhood come together like that. Hubba Hubba came down last summer while I was el preggo to work on a house, and the woman that now lives in that house was helping them work today on her neighbour's house! It's things like that that make me smile.

I came back to our rooms after the VBS to put Wiggle Man down, and realised I had nothing to eat for lunch! (The Babe was cranky, so I left before lunch arrived at the work site.) I've been sitting here munching on Cheerios and Diet Pepsi, which is all I had in the room. Thankfully, Hubba Hubba just called to tell me someone would bring me lunch! Yum.

I'm loving the southern hospitality down here. And the accents! I love hearing "y'all" and "shoot"--it's so cool. I'm afraid I'll have picked it up by the time we leave....and there's nothing stranger than a Canadian saying "y'all come back, eh?"

During my Cheerio feast, I got caught up on reading some of my blogs, and Amanda is doing a giveaway to celebrate her 50th post! Congrats, Amanda! Click here to check out her blog, and get entered in her giveaway.

Another Tale is Added to Family Lore

Hubba Hubba's family is fond of telling stories. Especially popular are the ones where someone has done something silly. Some of these gems include my brother-in-law's early attempt at a cake, in which he added a total of 7 eggs. There's the story about Hubba Hubba and his sisters creating a game with socks (the rules of which I still do not understand). And now, there's the story of this cake:

No, there's nothing wrong with your eyes. Yes, that is a remarkably flat cake. For my college friends who remember Flat Eeyore, I give you: Flat Birthday Cake.

I'm pretty secure in my baking skills, so I'm able to see this for the hilarious cake it is. It's so flat, it's awesome! By now you're wondering how Flat Birthday Cake came to be. Well, it's very simple. My mother-in-law, for whom I created this culinary wonder, has to be very careful about her sugar intake. So I gladly volunteered to make a sugar-free cake for her birthday. I had wonderous visions of a delectable cake made with a sugar substitute, complete with fairy-like creatures dancing around it. (Maybe I've seen too many Splenda commercials.)

Once I got to the grocery store, I discovered something even easier! One of the sugar substitute companies (who shall remain nameless) makes a cake mix! Gift of the gods! There was even a sugar-free icing mix! Happily I grabbed both boxes and brought them home, along with the ingredients for dinner.

You can imagine my joy was somewhat diminished when I saw the finished product. My sister-in-law even tried adding extra layers of icing to make it taller. Not so much. Well, at least we all got a good laugh out of it. And, thanks to Rachael Ray, dinner itself rocked!

Housework, Man Style

Well, lots of work is being done on the ol' homestead these days. In addition to all the "girly" jobs (laundry, dishes, floors, laundry, diapers, laundry...) we are having a new roof put on, and a new deck.

This means there's man stuff everywhere. Drills, hammers, crow bars...and a giant red dumpster in my back yard. Nice. Now, don't get me wrong. I know this stuff needs to be done, and that "this stuff" requires all THAT stuff. (The dumpster, etc.) It's accessories, for men.

I am looking forward to a clutter free...everything...and also some peace and quiet. There's banging and clanging and always someone running around my yard.

In other news, my cat has shown up. I have no idea where she's been all day, but I'm guessing she was not impressed by the neighbour's dog who found his way to our house.

More at 11. Or not. :)

Gradjimitation

Well, it's finally here. Graduation weekend. The big she-bang. The weekend kicked off with my sister-in-law's graduation from college. Unfortunately for her, the big ceremony got rained out, and she missed Pomp and Circumstance. Thanks to cheesey cards with music (courtesy of moi) she can now hear it whenever she wants. I wonder if Elgar regrets composing that one. Hmm.

Yesterday, the festivities continued with Hubba Hubba's graduation from seminary. I must say, he looked rather dashing in his cap, gown and hood. He looked even more dashing receiving a prize for top papers in Church History!

After some hugging, and crying (on my part, not his) and lots of picture taking, we had lunch with some friends and family. Then off to the BIG FAMILY PARTY. That gets all caps because in my beloved's family, a party is always a big thing. Think "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" minus the wedding ceremony, change the Greek family to an Italian one, and you've got the picture. There was, naturally, entirely too much delicious food, but lots of fun and laughter. My parents even drove all the way down to join in on the fun.

Gradjimitation Weekend continues for one more day--the all-important "leftover day" where we happily consume what's left of the sandwiches, meatballs, sausage, pulled pork, and goodies that we couldn't pawn off on departing family members. All this after a big asparagus and egg breakfast at the firehall. My jeans may not fit me by the end of the food-filled festivites, but it's all for a good cause: celebration.

Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all you Mommies out there!

It's my first Mother's Day, and I have to say--I'm really looking forward to it. We're not doing anything fancy, just a barbeque with the in-laws, but it's going to be nice. Apparently, Wiggle Man came up with the idea for my present. I'll have to update you on that one.

Hubba Hubba and I were talking this week at dinner, and he surprised me by saying he missed Wiggle Man being teeny tiny. That shocked me, because he seems to really enjoy interacting with Wiggle Man now that he's older, and has more personality. I guess even husbands get mushy every once and a while!

My mother will be down next week for my honey's graduation (woooo hoooooo!) so we'll do a late Mother's Day with her then. There is a whole, 'circle of life' kind of aspect to Mother's Day now...I celebrate it for my mom, Wiggle Man celebrates for me...ok, Hubba Hubba does it for Wiggle Man right now, because he's still small. But you get the point.

So, enjoy your day, Moms. I hope you (we) get to sleep in a little, maybe get some breakfast in bed, but mostly--soak up the love you all deserve!