Photo Retro

Nothing like a holiday season to take a normally hectic household and spin it into complete chaos. Welcome to my world. But, the past three weeks or so haven't been without highlights... or just randomness.

This is downtown Fort Wayne on Thanksgiving Eve. The (yet unlit) light display on the side of the building is an historic event in town: Santa, his sleigh and reindeer. I won't get into the whole history, but I will say it goes way back. People flock to the area, streets are closed off... coney dogs are consumed from Fort Wayne's famous Coney Island... and most years, umbrellas are raised. This year was no exception. We found a secret hiding spot where we could watch the lighting from the dry, toasty warm confines of our car. Let the countdown begin!

5....4....3....2....1

We hosted an early evening Thanksgiving dinner. It was a true blessing to all be together, given the Cameron brothers' recent string of surgeries. They hauled out The Settlers of Catan game, and well,... it was game on. Jenny and I did not play -- notice her knitting on the table... lower left of photo. She knitted, I watched. We learned that The Settlers of Catan is a long, long, long game. (Notice the time... after midnight.) I think James finally claimed victory somewhere around 12:30am. Or, as I like to call it, "what-the-hell-are-we-still-doing-awake" o'clock.

How do you win the love and admiration of all the kids? Two words: Reddi. Whip.

Cocoa and Calvin & Hobbes -- the perfect combination.

Sitting at the table after dinner, after homework... just enjoying the view of the tree.

And taking random crazy photos with the first kid to come by.

Brush with celebrity

It isn't often in my life that I find myself in the presence of celebrity. However, I have had a few claims to fame including receiving a kiss on the cheek from Christopher Atkins (Blue Lagoon), meeting and having a photo taken with Sean Astin (The Goonies, Rudy) and absent-mindedly walking into Meijer for a poster board at the same time Sarah Palin was there signing her book. (Believe me, I wasn't nearly as excited about that last one as I had been for the previous two.)

When I arrived at work this morning, I noticed a semi-truck parked on our block, which we share with the Embassy Theatre in downtown Fort Wayne. There were also huge, custom charter buses parked nearby. I thought nothing of it, other than they were part of a stage production ready to perform at the theatre tonight. When I left work this afternoon, the truck was still in its place; and the buses were just returning and parking.

Then it hit me. And, I swear, I actually sucked in my breath when I realized who that truck and those two buses belonged to. None other than Indiana's favorite son... the rebel who "fights authority" (and authority always wins)... the guy who knows Jack & Diane personally...

John. Mellencamp.

I all but sprinted across the street and up the four flights of stairs in the parking garage. Because if John Mellencamp was going to be getting off a bus a few yards away from me? I was going to be driving by to take a photo. Period.

Well, all my slingback-pump-sprinting was for nothing. This is all I got for my effort:

But I know he was on the bus!

Two for One Special

I. I Just Can't Win

So yesterday (Saturday) I found myself in an interesting and unfamiliar situation: a morning/day in which I had no committments until 3:30pm. It was nothing short of a miracle that Bobby slept until 10am -- which was nice, since Jeff and I were working at our rental condo (painting) until 3am. I went to bed, while Jeff returned to paint... pulling an all-nighter. When I got up with Bobby, we proceeded to park ourselves in the den, where we played and I enjoyed coffee and one of my all-time favorite HGTV shows, Property Ladder. Before I knew it, it was time for Bobby to take a short nap, and I busied myself with (finally) putting Halloween decs back into their handy orange/black bins and taking them up to the attic. While up there, I slid the Christmas bins to the front for easy access -- it won't be long before we're into those. Jeff returned home, bleary-eyed, a little after noon. We sat together, just relaxing on the sofa... Jeff nodding off every so often, but then again, I can't say I blame him. And then I realized I felt sort of guilty. There it was... nearly 1:45pm on a Saturday and I was still in my fleece pj's, finishing coffee.


Guilty?!? Are you kidding me?!?!


I shot a quick text to Lindy, confessing my pangs of guilt. Her response? "Don't feel guilty! Enjoy it!"


This? Is why she's such an awesome friend. Because an awesome friend will already know what your normal, crazy-ass insane daily life is like and recognize when a "gift" day falls right into your lap. Further, she will have the perspective to remind you to not beat yourself up feeling guilty because you're not running across hell's half-acre, shuttling kids to various activities. She will recognize that everyone needs to embrace and enjoy unexpected downtime. Thank you, Lindy!



II. In Which I Eat My Words

During Jeff's gall bladder removal procedure, the doctor discovered he is prone to a condition which requires his diet to be pretty much nut-/seed-free. This restriction includes popcorn. Normally, a person may not bat an eyelash at this. Unfortunately, Jeff and I have carved out something of a "relaxation routine," of popping a huge bowl of popcorn after the kids go to bed, grabbing a Cherry Coke Zero ("DCC" from its former name, Diet Cherry Coke) and watching a movie. It isn't anything elaborate -- but it's our thing. Now, realizing he cannot partake in the main course, I resigned myself to only making popcorn when he wasn't around, so as not to eat it in front of him. I wished for an alternative for him -- maybe rice cakes...? Little did I know, the snack food industry had answered my prayers years ago. We were in the store a couple of weeks ago, and Jeff picked up a bag of Mike-Sell's Oven-Baked Puffcorn Delites.



I admit... I mocked him. Openly. Right there in the middle of the snack aisle.

"Really, Honey?" I smirked. "Fake popcorn?"

He valiantly championed his purchase, saying he used to eat those puffs as a kid. And they are quite tasty, thank you very much.

I doubted. And I mocked.

"They look like packing material," I said. "Little, buttery pieces of packing material."

One evening Jeff sat beside me on the sofa, with a few puffs and a DCC. I thought I'd humor him and try one.


Wow. Those little things are good. Delicious, in fact. Addictive.


Yesterday, after having sampled myself silly on Puffcorn Delites for the better part of a week, I took a look at the nutrition label. I hadn't thus far, simply because I didn't want to know the horrible truth, that my new little tasty snack wasn't the healthiest choice on the block.


180 calories and 12g of fat per serving. And a serving? Three cups. Three cups, people. In serving terms, that's a HUGE amount... and I have made it my business/obsession over the past several months to track servings/calories on what I eat. I have never run across a serving that ventured past, say, a half-cup.


So now I will happily eat my words... as well as those lovely little Puffcorn Delites.

Playing catch up...

Since my camera and the cord through which I download photos onto my computer decided to play nicely together (there's a major connection problem, and the solution is to get a card reader... it's on the list) I thought I would post the last of the batch taken at the end of October.






Our "family of pumpkins," all aglow on Halloween night. The little angry one in the back is mine... hovering just above everyone else... go figure.

And look who went full Martha Stewart with the fancy-pants carving! I have seen this type of carving done many times, but figured it was way too involved and time-consuming to actually do. Surprise, surprise... it isn't. Rather than carve, you really just have to scrape.

And here's the pumpkin-glowy "BOO" lit up.

This would be Tyler bringing to "life" a dead zombie look. I'm telling you, the Salvation Army store is THE place to pick up stuff for Halloween costumes, if you're creating your own. We got his full suit, shirt (and I think a tie... which wasn't worn), plus items for Kate, Jack, Charlie and Sam all for $25. The only other cost was $5 for a jumbo bottle of fake blood, and the boys were in business.

OK, Stacy... this one's for you. :) Kate as a mime. Thank goodness she was a sweet, friendly mime, as opposed to the eerie, creepy variety.

And one last shot of the "hardware" the boys (and a friend) received at the football banquet. I think most everyone on my personal email list has had enough already of the photos. Sorry folks. You're going to have to endure just one more -- the always mandatory "nice" shot, where no one is grimacing, sticking out a tongue or giving me his best "gangsta" pose. Charlie (left), their friend Jiya and Jack -- green squad MVP, orange squad MVP and orange squad Defense Player of the Year, respectively.

The Payoff

For all those times...
... we've asked, "Is your homework done?"
... we made them run through spelling words.
... they took extra time on special reports and projects.
... we made them go to bed early.
... they were drilled on spelling words (again) in the car.
... I nagged at them to eat a good breakfast, insisting "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know."
... I threatened groundings if they didn't -- for the love of God -- stop talking and get some sleep!
... I asked them to run through spelling words, just *one* more time.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the payoff:

Three Principal's Honor Roll certificates for achieving straight A's

What? Me, too?!?

In the wee hours of the morning, I dreamed of...

Christmas.

More specifically, Christmas decorating.

Personally, I blame Crate & Barrel, since I was looking at their new catalog (where halls are decked in not only holly, but an assortment of C&B products, perfect for your home as well...). Of course, these little decor nuggets fell into my head and popped to the surface somewhere around 4a.m.

I am one of the people who stop dead in my tracks when I see tinsel, stockings and ornaments in a store -- before mid-September. I usually do the mandatory eye-roll, perhaps shake the head a bit then proceed on to my destination. But, now... with the images and ideas creeping into my head, then jumping to life in my dreams...how can I possibly ignore that?

Then, as I was getting out of the shower this morning, I realized the date: October 27. November 27 is about four weeks away. December 27 is about eight weeks away. (I know... my mad math skillz are amazing, yes?) My point? Christmas is just around the corner. Less than eight weeks. The planner/organizer living inside me suddenly woke up with a start. I must start getting ready!

But at least I promise to wait until after the pumpkins are cleared from the front porch before stringing up the sparkly Christmas lights.

Details,... Details,...

In our area of the Midwest, mid- to late- October weather can be dicey at best. So, this past Sunday, when we were blessed with a clear, sunny 70-ish degree day, nearly everyone took advantage of it.

I was (technically) outdoors, but spent three hours detailing our vehicles. Fun. Fun. Fun.

It was a "must," since both the car's interior was looking pretty bad; and the van? Oy vey. It was starting to smell.

Now, before anyone goes all judgey on me, let me assure you we are a fairly tidy family -- with the exception of a few bedrooms which appear to have had isolated tornadoes touch down. I function much better (and everyone around me is much happier) when things are orderly and clean. Actually, I'm kind of OCD that way. So, when I approached the driveway with a trash bag, a rag and the Armor-All, it was easy to see I meant business.

Two hours, a kitchen-sized trash bag and a stroller full of blankets, socks, books and whatnot, I stepped away from the van satisfied. Every last inch... every nook and cranny had been vacuumed clean and washed down. Biggest surprise? The number of petrified french fries I discovered. (Which, you know, kind of lends a little more credibility to the recent story about Happy Meals and their "shelf life." Eeew.) Most irritating find? The chocolate something that Charlie put in his cup-holder, only to have it melt and resolidify, melt and resolidify God knows how many times. If carpet and upholstery could shine, the inside of the van would blind you. There isn't a spot of anything, anywhere. If any of them so much as lose an eyelash in there, I'm going to know about it. It was at this point that I announced to Jeff that he and I were the ONLY two individuals ever allowed to bring anything into the van: be it food, drink or diversions.

The car was next, and proved to be a much easier job despite the fact that it looked as if someone just dumped grass clippings from mid-June all over the carpeting. When all was said and done, and the Shop-Vac had been retired for the day... I was pleased.

Yesterday on my way to work, I kept looking at the interior of the car, smiling to myself. Clean. Clean. Clean. (See? I am kind of OCD about it.)

And the first person to even think of leaving a candy wrapper, crumpled receipt, half-finished bottle of Gatorade in there? Well, let's just say, we'll be having a little chat as we roll the Shop-Vac out to the driveway.