These are the things we talk about in our home...

So, the other day, I took Josh and Erin to the library to get a couple of books. By the way, the library is awesome. I could spend hours and hours there. Anyhoo- I picked up a book called "The Agony and The Ecstasy" by Irving Stone. I was perusing it when Josh came over and snatched it out of my grasp to look at the front cover. On the cover is a depiction of the painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel showing Adam? (I'm not sure) touching the finger of God. All in all, a wonderful piece of art and probably, one of the most famous works of Michelangelo. So, Josh is looking at it and points to Adam's? "package" and says indignantly "Man, look how small they painted his wiener! They could at least have painted him with some dignity!" Of course, I fell to the ground laughing and Josh just walked away shaking his head. He always manages to say the funniest thing in the most inappropriate place. I believe he does this to test me. If I ever get the privilege of seeing the ceiling up close and personal, I may not be able to contain the giggles. We have since had a couple of discussions about that painting and wondering whether the smallness of the anatomy holds any kind of symbolism? Just something to think about.

Another funny thing with Josh. The other night he was up late trying to complete a bunch of missing assignments-why he can't just do them and turn them in on time is beyond me-and he was trying to think of something to write about in his writing journal. So, we started talking about it when a commercial for the Twilight DVD came on. Naturally, we started discussing Twilight and, mind you, the hour was late. I thought that maybe Josh could write about and discuss what someone would have to smell like in order for him to want to take a bite of him/her. We discussed, and decided that someone would have to smell and taste like a Cinnabon. What on earth is better than a Cinnabon? When ever I walk into that airport, the Cinnabon stand calls to me and I cannot pass. I must have one, come what may. This whole, freesia, lavender, flowery smell thing is just not my bag. As a matter of fact, my Grandma Kimball used to take me to the Lion House for my birthday. She always, always got some lavender flavored candies. She loved them. I choked them down just to be polite. They were yuuuuucky. So, Cinnabon it is. Anyway, these are the kinds of things we talk about in our family. Do you talk about anything weird? I'd love to know if we are the only freaks out there.

Bragging...

Just thought I would post some pictures. The first few are from our cruise A YEAR AGO. I am just now figuring out how to post stuff. The rest are from this year. Have fun looking. It's kind of scary how many pictures we have in which both Mike and I are wearing helmets.
What is it that Seinfeld says about that? I can't remember, but it's pretty funny. Anyway, sometime I will put all of the pictures of us (with helmets on) in one post.
He later got turned into a belt and a handbag.

Who let the residents out of the local mental institution?

Again with the helmets. Scary.

These two little pills wanted a snow storm inside, so they broke up a piece of styrofoam packing material and spread it around. They also decided to do snow angels. Very funny and kind of cute, but I have been vacuuming up snow for two weeks!!

Josh, Mike, Savanna, Lizzy and Erin at Brighton.

Josh being cool.

Er-Bear skiing at Brighton. She thinks she so awesome! So do I.

This is Lizzy trying to "steer" as she skis.

Thank Heaven for Girl Scouts

I have a good friend who likes to compose "Odes" to sutff on her blog. In tribute to her and to Girl Scouts around the world and in the neighborhood, I shall try my hand at the Ode. My debut in entitled "Ode to a Girl Scout Cookie". Please excuse my lack of form, I am not totally sure of the structure of an Ode, but I my world, it can be anything I want. Here goes:

"Ode to a Girl Scout Cookie"

Oh blessed Girl Scout,
selling your wares.
Cookies to to eat,
to make us look like pears.

"One box?" she asks,
With a shy, impish grin.
"How about mint?"
They're really so thin.

One look at the Scout
with hers eyes full of pleading
I fold with a sigh
"It's a CASE I'll be needing."

Months after the sale,
I've forgotten the treats.
My life is so full,
Yet, not truly complete.

A knock at the door,
A bustle, a holler!
"Mom, a Girls Scout is here!"
She needs 42 dollars!

That much? I wonder,
Then shrug and smile.
Cookies are worth it,
and these will last for awhile.

Three days later
I feel like a heel.
ONE Box is left,
I've had a one for each MEAL.

I hide the last box,
shamefaced and chubby.
I must save a dozen,
or so for my hubby.

I contemplate my days
of GSC bliss,
and wonder if there is
anything funner than this.

To eat Samoa's
all Golden and Crunchy,
to savor a Thin Mint..
there's nothing so munchy!

Today I will limit
the amount I will eat.
Three and that's all,
Then one falls at my feet.

"Crap!" I snort, and think,
"Now it's just two"
"Oh, who cares?" I decide.
What else can I do?

I retrieve the cookie
Off of the floor,
Stuff it into my face,
but now I want more!

Three cookies are not
enough to satisfy me.
Just two more,
I promise, no more than three.

So, now I am sitting
writing my verse,
When a small hand I know
pats my middle, like a nurse.

"Mommy, I really wish
your tummy wasn't so big."
I wish your were small,
Not fat like a pig."

The mouths of babes,
so honest and true.
I laugh and dissemble
No need to feel blue.

It was fun while it lasted.
No sense in regret.
Next time, I'll get TWO cases!
On that you can bet.

So what do you think? Am I a budding Robert Frost or Elizabeth Barret Browning? I think not, but it was fun to have to think for a minute. Thanks to Linda, for the inspiration.

I am a crazy nut.

Today was one of those teenager moment, mom-you-are-a-nut-job kind of days. I have been warning my Junior High students that they would indeed get theri phones taken away if, by the end of LAST week, all of their grades were better than "C's". Of course, I gave in and gave them until this Friday. Well, today I got the low-down on the grades. Let's just say that one of my teen age types thinks that "F" stands for fantastic. So, needless to say, I held my hand out for the phone. I got the now perfunctory eye-roll and murderous glare after which said teenager stomped down to his/her room to retrieve the phone. Here's where I lost it. The phone loser just could not understand why I was sooo upset about the "F". After all, he/she will certainly bring it up to at least a "C" by the end of the quarter. I have been drilling it into all the concerned children that a "C" isn't the kind of grade that will get you anywhere. From day one, the kids knew how important grades were to us and to their freedom to enjoy the good life (which by the way, we are denying them because they don't have Face Book or My Space accounts, or e-mails or access to illegal stimulants). They (the teens) tell me every day that we are the strictest parents on the planet and that we should just "chillax" on all the rules. Are we wrong to expect our smarter than ordinary kids to strive for something better than average? I don't understand the lack of concern for one's own welfare. I'll tell you this much, I am not supporting them when they can't get a job better than taking tokens at the parking booth at the airport. I will just roll my eyes and say "I told you that you should have gotten good grades!!!" Okay, I am a crazy nut job for wanting my kids to succeed. Weird. Thanks for letting me vent.