The one where I imagine I'm smarter than everyone.

I am fairly certain that you had a nice Thanksgiving. I'm fairly certain that if you were at our house, your Thanksgiving would have been a little bit funner. 

Fun is our middle name. 

 Can't tell you our last name, it's a secret.

 The food was awesome. My Mom and Aunt prepared a major portion of our dishes/desserts two days leading up to THE day. {Smart!} We have two full sized fridges, but there was talk about renting a third. Just talk. 

I did something super smart this year. I purchased an electric roaster. 
 Therefore, my oven was free for the 38 casseroles and pies. 

 I might be exaggerating. We only had 37 casseroles and pies.
But seriously, cooking my turkey all by it's lonesome in the roaster OUTSIDE was brilliant. 

The house did not heat up and the turkey was cooked in 3 hours as opposed to 7.

 Oh, and we continued our Thanksgiving tradition by playing football.

 Well, I just kinda ran back and forth {looking pretty} while others played football. 

 One thing you should never do though, is play football with Cocoa's football.

 She really wanted to play 'with' us with her football. But that was getting kind of dangerous with all the tripping she likes to do.
So, she was tied up like some janky 'hood dog. 

 When you play football with people who are in their upper 40's, early 50's and late 60's, you need to have less tripping than necessary. 

 I might have been the only one who never fell, rolled or was tackled. This is why you should just run back and forth {looking pretty} while watching others play.
See, I am brillianter than you thought. 

Ozzie was exhausted just watching me. 

We had a great week with my people here. I can't wait till next year.
Can we just skip Christmas and head to New Years?

XOXO

It ain't easy being a pilgrim in Vegas.

Following the tradition of my four Fathers. I mean, our poor forefathers, we played roulette on the eve of Thanksgiving.

 The dealer {coach} was fairly strict. The house {coach} was making a killing on the gamblers. Talk about a pitt boss; ruthless. 

 The dealer had a scratch sheet a mile long for all our 'oweing'.  It was not a who was winning kind of game. It was a who was losing the least kind of game. 

The pitt boss never felt the need to bring in a cooler.

My debt was nearing 75k.  

Want to guess how I'll be repaying that note?

Yep, turkey sammies, casseroles and pie for life. Not to mention fetching is pails of water. 

Damn. It ain't easy being a pilgrim. 

Who knew?

Hershey kisses were not harmed in the playing of this game. At least not on my watch.

This was not a 'family tradition' for Thanksgiving....but we are open for new stuff around here.
Bring it.


Happy cyber Monday!
XOXO

An awesome sunset with awesomer people.

I don't want anyone to think I've fallen off the end of the earth or that I was arrested for protesting at the  closing of Hostess. 

I don't even like twinkies. Yes, I said it. 

We are alive, well and busy.

My people arrived on Saturday evening. 

 And by my people, I am referring to my Mom, Aunt, Uncle and Cuz Patrick. We visit one time a year, and I am trying to fit as many minutes in as possible.

{Aunt Trish and Uncle Jim were on the upper deck}

We took a sunset cruise on Sunday and chose a few properties that we might purchase.

 And then I realized, having a house on the water might be more trouble than it's worth. Living on the gulf of Mexico could be detrimental to my well being. 

I'm just guessing. 

Bev; Suz's life giver.

 Killer sunset.

 This boat was trying to steal our view. Where is a pirate when you need one?

 Linds trying to grasp that big ball of fire.

 An american bald eagle on top of a bald palm tree. I could not for the life of me photograph it properly.  *LOVE*

So, now you know I'm alive and well. Of course, if you spent a week with my people, you would remember why we only spend one week together per year. Mom, I'm kidding.

Wishing you all a fabulous Thanksgiving with your people.

The one where I was writing about Jesus shoes, but mentioned hot dogs various times.

The Coach and I both grew up in lean and modest homes as kids. I was known to eat hot dogs right out of the fridge and he was usually found roaming the 'hood with no shoes on.

{Dawn, I apologize for mentioning hot dogs}

Growing up with just the basics, plus those cold hot dogs gives us so much appreciation for what we have worked for; what we have now.

Sometimes, I wonder if we are spoiling....or ruining our kids since they have not had the lean and fairly humble beginnings.
They have always been able to enjoy a cooked/grilled hot dog...and even things better than that. 

A minute after thinking that I stumbled across these beauties.

 My college child is wearing Jesus sandals...right down to the nitty gritty.

And she favors her right foot immensely.

BTW: I took this photo at least 3 weeks ago and I can vouch, that they are still being worn. She is minutes away from being barefoot.

When I noted to her that the shoes were about DONE....she replied that they are her favorites.

And on that note, what's for dinner tonight? Please don't say hot dogs!

I was a trophy wife for 14 years.

Well, not really, but it makes for good TV.

I might have mentioned before that Lolo has played softball since she was 5....and the Coach has coached that long as well.  She started travel ball at age 9 and soon after we started collecting trophies. 

NOT just for her, but for the team.  But, let's face it, she is amazing and earned her share of shiny stuff.

I've been known to take one for the team, but this is ridiculous.

For the past few years I was perplexed as what to do with them all. The Coach felt the same way. Lolo had no attachment to them whatsoever....except for the glass/crystal world series trophy, which resides in Coach's work office. 

 I searched and searched for a good way to recycle/reuse them. ANYTHING aside from sending them all to the landfill....I would not be able to sleep if I did that. Fo'rizzle my shizzle. 

 I did a search again this week and each and every outlet I found that would reuse them was shut down.
My heart sunk each time I hit a dead end.

I imagined my retirement; me, old decrepit and tripping over trophies. Yeah, I was 55 in this scenario. 

 Then I read something about putting them on craigslist.

I've shied away from craigslist....because of that killer and all.

But I thought: what the heck. A killer VS a landfill? I will take my chances because I love my planet.

Do you feel bad now since you threw away a plastic bottle?

Well you should. 

Do you see the extent of what I will do to avoid the landfill...and you just willy nilly threw away plastic?

DID you even think about all the oil it took to MAKE that bottle? 

Maybe we should all just pack up and move to the Middle East.

Oh...wait...I forgot I was writing a post here. 

I posted FREE TROPIES on crags list.

I got 5 replies. The very first one was for a not for profit group that will make new name plates and reuse them all.

BINGO!

MY DAY WAS MADE!

Even better, the Coach met the non-craigslist killer at work with the loot!

Just goes to show you, we can all keep our landfills to a minimum. I mean it people. 

Don't make me come over there.....

You've not seen the ugly side of me. Ok, maybe you have.

Hopefully you love me just the same. 

XOXO

This is why we can't have nice things.

This is going to make me look really mean and petty.
Which is who I am on occasion.
A few weeks ago Cocoa tore up one of her toys. She just ripped the stuffing right out of that thing as if it were her mission in life.
Lindsay looked right at her and said in a stern voice:

This is why we can't have nice things!

I died.
IT sounds just like something my Mom would have said to me as a kid. And it was true.
We didn't have nice things. Because of Cocoa. I mean because of me.

And now....well now I'm a neat-freak. With emphasis on the freak neat.
And my children?
NOT so much on the neat side. And that just freaks me the HECK out.

The bedrooms; they have been a point of contention since the girls decided to have a mind of their own. There is an upside to having rowdy little toddlers....my toddlers loved 'the clean up song'. Barney was all bad-azz like that.

My teenagers have lives and it's harder to control their clutter and lack of caring. And they never like it when I sing.
Please don't think this next photo is of a home after hurricane Sandy. {no disrespect to Sandy victims!} Or even that it could be a home that was just ransacked by somali pirates.

It is a room in my actual home.

I won't tell you whose room it is...but the writing IS on the wall.

Now listen, I know a messy room is not the end of the world and that there are a lot of parents who wish their only issue in life is a messy room. Really.
But I am petty and mean. We already went over  that.

My girls are good people. They are healthy. They go to school every day. They work. They are smart and funny and fun to be around....they are who I like to hang out with....NOT in their rooms though.

This is why we can't have nice things. {in.their.rooms.}

FYI: I've threatened to blog about the messy rooms for years. And even more interesting...a certain someone who is a slob is the one who taught me to use the panorama on my phone last week. HA!! That will teach her to educate her Mom.

And an update since I wrote this post on Friday.
I told that certain child that her room must be cleaned TO.MY.STANDARDS by noon on Sunday or her smart phone will be turned into a cell phone. 

See. I still have some leverage. No singing necessary.

And I bet you are all wondering ONE thing after reading this.
Yes, I know where my pickle forks are.

My sanity however has been misplaced.

The one where Suz feels {kinda/sorta} behind.

Have you seen the pink pumpkins?

Linds and I thought they were more peach than pink, but that didn't stop her from talking me into purchasing one. She sold me on the idea that she would actually carve it, or perhaps 'glitter' it up. 

I knew deep down inside that she would do neither, but I was still duped into forking over $$.

Sucker Suz.

 I'm not really complaining. Pinkie promise.

Someone has to stimulate this economy. 

I seem to have about 1/10th of the time I used to have to blog about my exciting life and to read others. 

I don't know how some of you working peeps do it. On the days that I work, I don't read blogs. On the days I don't work, I'm playing catch up on life. 

And my reader fills up.

If someone blogs daily, do you feel as though you should read every single post?

Please share.

Oh, and I voted. 

There. 

Please.make.the.calls.stop.

And the mailings??? Good lord....all those trees!

And since I never.ever talk politics, you surely wouldn't be able to guess which side of the party I'm on.

It is a party right?

If so, when the heck does the fun start???