That’s so cute, you like to combine two real words into one fake one.

If I look at one more media console my eyeballs will literally fall out. I have spent zillions of hours online window shopping and trolling Craigslist pretending that I can either 1) find some amazing piece at an crazy-awesome steal [unlikely] or 2) find some amazing but janky piece that I can upholster (WHAT? I have never done this. I can’t even staple a piece of paper without it looking like terrorist is sending a memo) or paint it with cool Annie Sloan chalk paint that I am too embarrassed to even buy. Yep, that was a sentence. Those people will know the second I walk in that I am some wannabee with zero patience and no eye for detail. Oh, and I don’t want to spend any money. What this boils down to is time wasted and building ire for our current ugly console. Isn’t life hard?

Have you ever butterflied chicken? Is that a word? Butterflied? Well I did it tonight and I proud to say I spread salmonella across our entire kitchen. Speaking of kitchens, we didn’t get the remodel. BOOOOOOOOOOOO! I am actually pretty sad about it. Although I think the whole thing should be redone, it’s not crappy enough for the show. Alas. It was fun in an incredibly terrifying, long-term stress inducing way.

I don’t understand how to use word press. No matter what button I press (see below), the posts look the same.

I am too lazy to look up how to actually use this program and will instead continue pushing random buttons and hope for the best. I know you care. I also don’t know how to link stuff and am generally confused. But that is pretty much par for the course.

My mom’s neurologist finally called me back today to give us the results of her most recent MRI. It’s not good; new lesions. This makes sense of course as she is still wheelchair-bound and marble-mouthed (I understand every fourth word). We have agreed to pay an added fee so the staff at her facility will wheel her around and are splitting laundry duties. On a side note, I don’t know how one person, yes, ONE PERSON, can accumulate three loads of laundry in less than a week but Ho-Ho is certainly capable. Wheelchair or not! Anyway, we are headed in to the hospital tomorrow for a three-day stint of IV steroids and the hopes that she will return to her baseline. I am not envious of what she is going to be putting her body through but it is our sole hope as of now. Say a little prayer for those nurses who are going to be summoned every four seconds…a diva is still a diva no matter her surroundings. Also say a little prayer for EK who is sitting on the top of stairs screaming, “Don’t talk to Homer and Willis [our cats]!”.

Sorry I am boring. Living away from the scrap metal guys and huffers will do that to you.

Do you remember when you were small?/How everybody would seem so tall/I am your shadow in the dark/I have your blood inside my heart (Me & the Bean, Spoon)

I can’t seem to come up with anything to write given the tragedy in Connecticut. Around the globe people are sharing in what can only be described as ineffable grief. And guilt. Not only because tragic struck those 26 beautiful families, but guilt due to the relief that it didn’t happen to yours. But what if? Something like this…it’s just so unfathomable and elicits such a guttural reaction that I am surprised we are all walking around.

So instead, I will share some recent pictures of the blessed life I often take for granted – and hope that this change in outlook isn’t episodic like our 24/7 news cycle, but instead a constant…forever appreciative of those grubby little fingerprints left everywhere and nights that we parents spend precariously balanced on the edge of the bed while our little people dream (and flail about) between us.

Photo and fun credits: Skogen Wicketts…and they deserve credit for making such a precious little IngyBoo too.

They even went so far as to make up words. How many pints in a peck? That’s not even real. What’s a peck?

Growing up, we used to travel to lovely Chicago suburb of Orland Park for our Christmas celebrations. My grandparents decorated their house with those big, fat ceramic bulbs until one year someone sole them. Yes, someone stole their lights. From that day on I vowed to put them up when I got a house and yes, bitches, I followed through.

Behold!

And just an FYI, ceramic bulbs means ceramic bulbs. They break and will cut your hands.