Heather vs. Potted Plant: Possibly too close to call.

So, back in the day when I was barely a grown-up, having just entered my very earliest 30s and all, I was a contestant on a little game show known as Jeopardy!.  I became a contestant on the show because some of my coworkers, who knew me very well and spent lots of time with me on a daily basis, thought I was smart and had a crazily good memory.  Which was, and I don't mean to brag, pretty much the truth................ back then.  So, these coworkers of mine signed me up to try out for the show, I went down to NYC, passed the contestant exam, did the audition, and a few months later, got the call and flew out to LA for the taping.

But, now, many years later, I'm closing in on 40 in a matter of months and it's all turning to mush.  My memory, that is.  Oh, the long-term memory still seems relatively intact, but short term? Not so much.  Also more mushy than back a decade or so ago?  No, not my midsection, though yeah, that'd be accurate too, but I'm referring to my actual brain itself.  I mean, it never really seems to have recovered 100% from those days of early parenthood when having a young infant in the house = perpetual sleep deprivation.

Case in point: Lately, I seem to lose my car.  A lot.  Like, in a parking spot, of my own choosing, where I parked it.

Take, for example, earlier today.  I had to stop in at the grocery store after church to pick up a few things.  I was inside the store for 10 minutes, tops.  I came back out into the parking lot and............................

Dude, where's my car???

I did that thing that I'd like to think we all do every once in a while.  That "aimlessly wandering with a simultaneously hopeful, sheepish and frustrated look" thing.  I scanned the lanes for my vehicle.  Granted, colors on automobiles are hard to see this time of year in my neck of the woods - they all turn the same shade of "road salt grayish white" - but still, I should've been able to find it in under 10 minutes.  I mean, the parking lot isn't *that* big.

Now, I have strategies I use to combat this problem.  I tend to have "my" spot in any parking lot I visit regularly.  I choose an area and try to find a spot within a couple of spaces of that landmark (a cart return or light pole, for example).  I've thought about getting one of those antenna toppers -

Or I could go more "thematic" -

Or even patriotic, while I'm at it..........

 

 But I fear that short of a flashing, neon sign directly above my vehicle

 

I'd still be wandering around the parking lot with that expression on my face for hours.  Okay, minutes, but enough minutes to feel like a thoroughly doddering fool.  (Oh, and the fact that I was looking for my minivan when I'd actually driven Hubby's car to the store? Double bonus points for my brain, right?!)

Now, fine, perhaps we all get a little Ashton Kutcher and lose our cars temporarily in the parking lot every now and again.  Heck, Seinfeld did a whole episode about losing a car in a parking garage and it was hilarious.  I have further proof that my mind is more scrambled egg than spring chicken.

The week before last, I was browsing through a recipe website because I thought I'd make something new and different.  I was bored of my go-to weekday menus using ground beef, which I had on hand and needed to cook.  So, I came across this recipe for "pizza casserole" and thought "Ooooh, *that* sounds good!" and decided I'd make it for dinner.

Hubby gets home while I'm in the midst of browning the ground beef and boiling the pasta and asks what I'm making.  "Pizza casserole!" I reply, "It's a new recipe!"  He picks up the page I'd printed out and skims over it, and then says "Um, isn't this just baked ziti?"  

.........Yes, yes it was.  Baked ziti, that I make on a fairly regular basis.  The only difference was that I was making it, as the "new" recipe instructed, in a deep casserole dish instead of my lasagna pan.

D'oh!

Want another example of how mushy my old gray matter is these days?  Hubby and I recently got brand-spankin'-new iPhones.  (Cue chorus of angels singing alleluias.)  We'd been eagerly awaiting their release on Verizon for ages and were giddy with glee when they arrived.  Shortly after my iPhone hit my hot, little hand, I texted my dear friend J something to the effect of "OMG This is my first ever text message on my new iPhone! It's so cool!  Woot!  Is this working??" because J is generally pretty quick with responding to texts.  Sure enough, mere moments later, my iPhone dinged (side note: why do all the text notification sounds suck, why are they so long and why can't you do a customized text sound like you can ringtone?  I want answers, Steve Jobs, answers!!) and lo and behold, there was her text:

I just got something in Arabic from you.  Is that you being funny? I don't get it. LOL.

OH NOES!  I promptly freaked out and sent her another text, which I intended to read "Wait, Arabic? Nooooooo!" but which the iPhone's autocorrect changed to "Wait, Arabic? Nippon!"  and then immediately after that, "Is *this* in English?"  after which my phone rang and it was J calling to gently point out that she was yanking my chain and that I was not, in fact, inadvertently texting in Arabic.

Double d'oh!  Also, well played, J.  She said her entire family were all doubled over in laughter because they were sure I'd realize that she was kidding.  Only, I hadn't realized.  Honestly, the thought never occurred to me.

In conclusion, if this is what life is going to be like as I head into middle age, I'd better get one of those Life Alert buzzer necklaces asap, because it can't be that much longer before I've fallen and I can't get up..............

In the meantime, you can now watch my episode of Jeopardy! on YouTube so you can get the reference I made to being smarter than a potted plant in the title up there.  You see, Alex Trebek himself questioned which would be smarter, me or the plant.  In my defense, I don't think my multivitamins have the same oomph as a good dose of Miracle Gro.

Part one of my episode is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFWneTg-VkI

and part two is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kt2i7TCEeoU

Just please, pretend you're laughing with me and not at me, okay?

Sure, it really is an honor just to be nominated, et cetera and so forth...

So, the ever-fantabulous Hartley, amazing author and tireless champion of parents with SPD/ASD/special needs kiddos, has a little awards shindig going on over at her blog.  Nominations have been going on for the past few days, and I just received the news that my blog has been nominated for an SPD Blogger Award!!  In the category for "Humorous Blog" no less! (I've checked out the competition and it is fierce, *gulp*!)

This is literally the first good thing to happen to me this year so far.  Yes, I know we're not even 3 weeks into 2011 but so far? It has bitten the big one.  We're in the midst of another major battle with the school district regarding Kiddo's current IEP and have further heard that it is 99.9999999999999% sure that Kiddo will not be granted an aide for next year (or ever again after this year) when her CSE meeting rolls around in March.  Kiddo has now been examined by a pediatric pulmonologist, who confirmed what her pediatrician has been suspecting for several months now - Kiddo has asthma, and with the relatively "late" onset of symptoms, it is likely that she will have asthma for the rest of her life (as opposed to kids who have it as toddlers and then outgrow it).  Have you ever seen a major sensory seeker on not one but two asthma meds simultaneously?  Holy bouncing off the walls, Batman!  We're working out an appropriate med regime that controls the inflammation with the least amount of disruption to her life, but the working out phase involves dealing with issues like difficulty falling asleep/restless sleep and other fun stuff like that.  (If you think a major sensory seeker hopped up on two stimulant asthma meds is a scary enough sight, add to that a lack of adequate rest and we have a new horror movie franchise in the making.)  On top of that, Kiddo has just been more challenging than usual behaviorally.  I won't go into details, but she was Majorly Grounded for almost a week, which effectively killed our wedding anniversary date night out plans (and on top of that, it's never fun to have to be the Grounding Enforcer/Prison Warden anyhow).  Last but not least, she's been sick for more days this January than not, so we're stuck inside with playdates and birthday parties falling by the wayside thanks to those evil, evil germies.  (Side note: someone told me that the odd years are always more challenging than the even years.  Six was pretty dang delightful around here, especially in light of how seven has been.  I'm willing to believe that at this point, especially if it gives us a light at the end of a tunnel that will only go another 5 months... Anyone else ever hear that one?)

So, like I said, 2011? Not the best year so far.  (Isn't this the big Mayan Apocalypse year?  Are all these issues actually harbingers of the impending doom - and if so, where the heck are Dean and Sam and Castiel when I need them?  Will I start dreaming of Phyllis Diller again?  Did I mention that coming up in December, I turn the big 4-0?  Isn't that bad enough for one year in and of itself?)  

But... then I received the news from Hartley that I've been nominated for an SPD Blogger Award - and it's a MAJOR AWARD, you know.  I'm hoping the prize looks something like this:

And yes, it's just an honor just to be nominated, especially since I didn't nominate myself - someone out there likes me!  But then again, if you really do like me, please drop by the voting page starting tomorrow at 6am and help me stuff the ballot box, mmmmkay?  I mean, George Clooney and Hugh Jackman have presented Oscars and Golden Globes before, so what if it's one of them presenting the SPD Blogger Awards?  Do you want to be the one to make me miss out on that?  Let's reverse the trend of craptastictude for 2011 by landing me a Major Award!

I promise I'll mention you in my acceptance speech - maybe even give you a shout-out from the red carpet when Ryan Seacrest stops me to find out who I'm wearing..... "Microfleece yoga pants from Target, Ryan, of course!  Mind the sparks, now..."

In which I tell you of an awesome, "new" discovery

Let me preface this by acknowledging up front that I tend to be a bit, how shall we put it?  Late to the party when it comes to the hippest, most happening, latest things.  (See? I just used the word hippest which I'm fairly sure is no longer hip.)

Well, one of the things that is a new discovery (to me) that I wanted to share with you is this little thing called Pandora Radio.  Now, I apparently had already discovered Pandora's website once before, but it didn't take the first time.  (I only know this because when I rediscovered it, it turned out I'd set up an account for myself at some previous juncture and then promptly abandoned and forgotten the website entirely.)  I re-discovered Pandora as an iPod Touch app, and have become utterly smitten.  Smitten, I tell you!

So for those of you who are as un-in-the-know as I, let me tell you what Pandora does - it is a radio station where you get to pick all the music and then it plays the songs you want for you.  But more than that, it uses the info you've given to it about songs and artists you like and then comes up with other music that is similar and plays that for you, too.  There's a thumbs-up/thumbs-down feature that helps it tailor the musical choices for your own personal stations as well.  

It is so, so cool, y'all.  I (re-)discovered Pandora a couple of months ago, when I was looking through music apps for my Touch while we were in the midst of The Great Renovation Project, Phase II - Stripping and Painting, and I immediately set up a few different stations.  First, I made an 80s station.  (Duh.)  When Hubby got too sick of All 80s Music, All the Time, I obliged him by creating a Classic Rock station.  It was really darn delightful because by putting in the names of artists I liked (and then dashing over to my iPod mid-paint-rolling to thumbs up or down a particular song), it played classic rock type songs I enjoyed (The Eagles, Steve Miller Band) and not ones I haaaaate (the Horse With No Name song, for example).

I've created a few other channels, like Old Time-y Country (the Oak Ridge Boys, Randy Travis, Dwight Yoakum, Kenny Rogers, Alabama) and the "J.J. Cazh" station (as Hubby and I nicknamed it thanks to the various Andy Samberg bits on SNL) which plays Jack Johnson, my friend Tulpen's boyfriend, Five for Fighting, Dave Matthews, the Wallflowers, and so on in that vein.

And.

I made one more station - my Harry Connick, Jr. station.  Because I love me some Harry Connick, Jr.  Seriously love.  Have been a fan for decades (which makes me sound old, but it's technically true, so there you go).  As in, I've been a major fan since high school before When Harry Met Sally came out and he started getting really famous.  I went to the opening night of his first run on Broadway way back in 1990.  Actually, I was quite a Harry groupie in my younger years, and even met him several times.  (Nothing remarkably groupie-like ever happened, I must admit, although he did accidentally drive a remote-control car over my foot one time outside his tour bus in Syracuse.)  That was the same night he autographed this:

which I promptly had framed for an exorbitant amount of money (especially for a broke, college student, which I was at the time) and proudly hung on the walls of every college dorm room and apartment bedroom in which I lived from that moment forth until Hubby and I moved in together, when it was deemed no longer appropriate decor and thus has been living in the basement for the past 16 years.  (Sorry, Harry... if it meant you'd come and visit us - and hey, we have a piano! - then I'd totally hang it back up right this minute!)

Annnnnyhow, of course I needed a Harry Station, so I set one up toot sweet.  I added Michael Feinstein, Barry Manilow, Tony Bennett, Dean Martin, Ella Fitzgerald, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and Frank Sinatra to that station as additional artists I like, and let her rip.

And do you know what I've learned since starting that station?  What Pandora has taught me?

That I am a big Michael Bublé fan.  Huge.  Now, please note that prior to setting up my HCJr Pandora station, I only had the vaguest idea of who Michael Bublé was - he floated out there on the far periphery of my knowledge.  I had seen him on SNL, where he was funny in that skit with Jon Hamm but as we were watching SNL off the DVR, as we do 99% of the time, we fast forwarded through the musical performances.  I'd caught snippets of his songs during my daily "Five Minutes To Try and Stay Current and Hip" (dang it, should I not be saying "hip" so I sound more hip?  How about "groovy" instead?  "Fly" perhaps - or with a ph like phat?  Phly?) in which, shortly after waking up in the morning, I start out watching one of the various iterations of MTV (thanks to which I have more than a mere inkling of who Lady Gaga is, for example) but within moments, I'm back on VH1 Classic where it is always 80s videos in the morning and odds are good that instead of seeing anything new and current, I'll find videos like Take on Me or The Reflex.  Ahhhhhhhh, sweet, comfortable nostalgia.  But I digress.  My point is, every time a song I didn't immediately recognize (or, more to the point, I didn't recognize that particular rendition, since 99.9% of this station is standards), I'd look on my iPod and voila, it was Michael.

So there you go.  Pandora is so awesome it gave me a new artist to lurrrrrve.  I'm not saying it doesn't have its occasional misstep, like the time I was merrily making pad thai to the strains of my Old Time-y Country station, when sandwiched between the Gatlin Brothers and George Strait came.... I Don't Want To Miss a Thing by Aerosmith.  ?!?!?  I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm a huge Aerosmith fan, but I don't want to hear a rock power ballad in the middle of my twangin' and pickin' and harmonizin' - not that I thumbsed them down.  I mean, I couldn't do that to my beloved Aerosmith, even when they popped up on the wrong station.  So, while Pandora isn't perfect, it's a pretty awesome discovery, at least for my groovy world.

Stay tuned for further "breaking news" of new discoveries I've made, like about the horseless carriage or the light bulb............

    

I am pretty much barking mad, so why not get $250 to spend at Target?

We all know I'm pretty much crazy, and this whole "getting the house ready to list on the market" thing has essentially helped push me that teensy bit left to go over The Edge. I seriously have lost those few remaining marbles I once had. (I'm guessing they're off in the 10x10 storage unit we've rented and jam-packed full of things I am not sure I can really live without. Either that or I accidentally Freecycled them. Don't think they were in any of the lots I sold on Craigslist, but if someone did give me any money for my wits, the joke's on them. Ha!)

Annnnyhow, I hopped on the computer this afternoon whilst the miniblinds from the guest room were soaking in a lukewarm, Top Job bath per helpful instruction guide Hubby found and emailed me on "How to Clean Miniblinds in Fifty Not-Terribly-Easy Steps Guaranteed to Drive You Crazy, Unless You're Already There" and as my fingers were cramping from Step Thirty-Six: Individual Slat Wipedown, I thought I'd stretch them out over my keyboard for a few moments. Kiddo is presently buried in the packing paper we received from a fellow Freecycler and I think that Crazy Cat may be down there in the paper too. (See my previous post for more on that. Well, more in the "pictures are worth a thousand words" sort of way.)

As I was doing a quick blogsurf in a vain attempt to catch up on all the posts logjamming my blog reader (the number is getting daunting and I've barely left a comment in days - sorry everyone!), I came across a contest over at Auds' blog, Barking Mad. It is a lovely, All About Me kind of a contest. All one has to do is grab her badge (woot, blog bling!), give links to five to ten of one's favorite posts - posts on one's very own blog! - and then link up and voila, you're in and could possibly win a $250 gift card to Target! (Cue choir o' angels!)

I want that gift card, y'all. I'm sick TO DEATH of Walmart, where I've been eleventy billion times in the past two weeks, and where I need to go in just a few more minutes to return the curtain rods I bought in the wrong size and the guest towels I bought in the wrong color yesterday. See, that's where the Target gift card would come in handy - new guest towels for the brand-spanking new, Tear Drop blue painted (it's a REALLY pretty color and I wish we'd slapped it up about nine years ago so I could've enjoyed it more) downstairs powder room. Also, some new throw rugs for the kitchen, new welcome mats for the front and back door and all manner of other little "staging" type things.

So, without further ado, here's my list of my top five posts. Yeah, they look suspiciously like posts I've got listed over yonder in the sidebar. Think of them as Heather's Greatest Hits, if you haven't read them already.......................


Hey Karma, I think we're even now!
A Public Restroom Nightmare
Hair-raising Matters
If you're reading this in the buff, I don't want to know...
100 things about me

Here's the kewl blog bling that goes with the giveaway.....



And now, back to the miniblinds and then Walmart. My life, it is SO exciting. At least tonight is American Idol (go Danny Gokey, Anoop Desai, Alexis Grace and Ann Marie Boskovich!) and Lost (go back to the Island, wherever and whenever it is RIGHT NOW Oceanic Six!)..........

The "What Barbara Walters Would Ask if She Were HOT" meme

My dear blogosphere friend Eudea-Mamia just did this meme, and then graciously gave me the following questions so I could play, too. I'm fairly certain that credit for the title goes to EM, by the way....

My questions are:

1. Name one moment in your life when you were very proud of yourself (non Kiddo related!).

Um, I could go a bit cheesy here and say this moment:



but actually, I was more proud of passing the test and the audition/interview to get into the contestant pool than actually being called for the show, which was much more luck/chance than me actually *doing* something. Out of the 65 people that took the contestant exam that same day I did, only 6 of us passed it. So, that was a "woo, me!" moment.

On a less trivial level, I was also extremely proud of myself the day that I was promoted to the director of my department at the agency I worked for prior to the Ultimate Promotion to being a mom. I was only 27, the youngest person ever promoted to "senior management" and had been completely convinced I would never be picked to fill my predecessor's gigantic shoes. Some of the folks that I was up against for the job had PhDs and decades more experience than I, so I was a bit stunned to hear that I'd gotten the job. I'm further proud to say that during my tenure, my team exceeded all our contract requirements and benchmarks, started two new programs (one was a school-to-work program for high school students with disabilities, the other a program to help individuals with epilepsy who were unemployed or underemployed find and keep suitable employment) and had our department chosen to be one of five sites nationwide included in a federal grant. We were a great team and we helped a lot of people with very little resources and a lot of obstacles. I was definitely proud of that.

2. Which superpower would you choose a) being invisible? b) reading people's minds? c) stopping time?

Well, hmmm. Invisibility would be cool sometimes - I sure would work out a lot more if no one could see me huffing and puffing and sweating away, for example, or those times when I'm out in public with a melting-down kid, it sure would be great to be invisible then... Reading people's minds would also be cool, but could be very dangerous, as well. I mean, do I really want to know what people are thinking about me, really? *shudder* Pretending people are thinking well of me is probably the safer route for my ego, so no, not reading minds after all. (Though I suppose it would come in very handy with Kiddo, who at the age of 5 and a half has already perfected the monosyllabic grunt answer to questions like "How was your day at school?") Stopping time, hmmm, like Hiro on Heroes (which is on again starting tonight, woo-hoo!)? That could be good - I could keep Kiddo from bonking her noggin or skinning her knees, get the cat moved from the carpet to the linoleum *before* she gacked up that ginormous, juicy hairball, assist Hubby's golf game with an astounding amount of birdies - eagles, even! - prevent folks from sliding off the roads in all this snow and ice we just. Keep. Getting..... Yep, I think I'm going to go with stopping time.

3. What would your superhero name be?

This was a tough one. I was pondering aloud via my Facebook status and one of my old high school friends helpfully sent me a link to a site that generates your Superhero or Villian name. You have to plug in different variables (up to three) and then it will give you your name suggestions.

I scrolled through the list of variables, and decided that these were the best three for describing myself:



I mean, I'm whiter than the driven snow (skintone-wise), especially this time of year. (Hubby and I often joke that folks can always tell when we were outdoors in the summer because of the blinding glare thrown off our pasty white skin.) I am a jokester (of what caliber - whether "humorous" really is applicable, I cannot unbiasedly judge), and my shape does change, albeit generally between StayPuft, Doughboy and Jabba.

This is what came up for my variables........



Hmmm, definitely some possibilities there. I especially like Pale Girl and Fool Laugh.

I changed up the variables a bit (after deciding I am at least Queen of my own Insanity, if not my kingdom.........):



And came up with these:



Giggle Baroness? Oooh, that's good - royalty *and* it reminds me of The Sound of Music. Hmmm, I'll need to think a bit more on it and get back to you later.......

4. Name your top three crushes - real, fictional, past or present.

Okay, real (as well as past and present!):



(wasn't that obvious?)

Fictional:



and



From the past:







I know, that's more than three. I just couldn't narrow it down any further!

And now, it is time for me, Giggleo (pronounced Giggle-Oh, thankyouverymuch), to get motivated and off to the store. We're on a new mission to eat most of the food in the pantry (which is overflowing) and chest freezer before we move, so theoretically, grocery shopping should be a quick and painless task. Theoretically, anyhow... If anyone else wants to take a stab at this meme, give me a shout and I'll give you some questions!

Stuff

I have too much stuff. Physically (hello, cellulite!), mentally (hello, thoughts that won't stop running through my head at night) and especially around me. Confession time: I'm a pack rat. Well, not in the negative sense of the word - I don't hoard old newspapers and magazines and things that out to long since have been thrown away for decades so that one day I'm discovered like this person was... I do, however, have a highly sensitive sense of nostalgia, which leads me to hold on to certain stuff.

Stuff has been on my mind lately, so much so that I'm not even sleeping soundly. You see, my days are now consumed by stuff, because we're in the midst of step one of selling our house and moving: decluttering. (Funny how Blogger doesn't recognize "declutter" as a word, because my own brain has issues with it as well!)

Over the weekend, we rented a storage unit up the road and began the process of decluttering our house. We've lived in this house for nine years now, and let me tell you, that is plenty of time for a sentimental sort like myself to amass a lot of stuff. Heaps of it. Stuff crammed onto bookshelves (and let's not forget all the books themselves, either, as Hubby and I both are Bookworms Extraordinaire and Kiddo is quite a bookworm as well), stuff squeezed into drawers, stuff jammed into cabinets, under beds and on top of other stuff. Now, with the decluttering? It is so not pretty.

Hubby and I used to be quite good at moving. Back in the early days of Hubby-n-me, we moved a lot - between 1994 and 2000, we moved six times, winding up here in our first owned home in January of 2000. During that period, there wasn't much chance to accumulate stuff, and our belongings were regularly purged as well, the better to fit our stuff into the back of first our Festiva, then our Tercel, along with the smallest U-Haul we could get away with for maximum affordability. We'd donate books to the local Friends of the Library, drop boxes of clothes and linens off at Goodwill, etc. We were lean and mean and had room to spare in our bookcases, hutches, cabinets and drawers.

Well, now we've had nine years in one place (with a lovely, large basement) in which to collect stuff. Also, five years ago we added Kiddo to the mix, and Sweet Godmother of Wilma Flintstone (™ Anna Lefler), did the stuff just exponentially explode! Let's face it, when one has a child in one's home, the stuff starts flowing in pretty much at birth (bottles, onesies, burp cloths, diapers, diaper accoutrements, rattles, teething toys, binkies, et cetera et cetera et cetera....)


Oh sorry, got carried away on a wave of musical nostalgia there. I'm back now. Shall we dance? No, no, back to the topic at hand.... Stuff. So, there's baby stuff that takes over your entire world. Then, as the baby grows into a child, not only do the number of toys and books and clothing and shoes and mittens and hats and DVDs and stuffed animals grow as well, but so does the art work. Dear me, the art work. The precious scribblings that eventually mature into actual pictures that resemble actual things and people (well, assuming said people have gigantic heads from which their arms protrude and no bodies beyond legs that may or may not include feet)... then they start school and the art projects become multi-dimensional and take up even more space... and then there are the photographs. Oh, the photographs. Now, Kiddo is an only child. Lucky for us, in this regard, as I have, and I am only ever-so-slightly exaggerating here, ninety thousand framed photographs of her hanging on our walls and displayed on shelves and end tables and the piano and, heck, on any mostly-flat surface in my house. (I also have several nieces and nephews, so there are actually additional kiddos who occupy frame space too.) I mean, I had lots of photos in frames before I became a mom; pictures of Hubby and me, our family and friends, even beloved pets... but since Kiddo was born? Egads.

And now, all the stuff? It must go. Tucked into boxes, hauled off to the storage unit, never to see the light of day again until the summer (or late spring, if we're really lucky). Oh, the agony. The good news is that Hubby is not nearly as much of a stuff aficionado as I am, so we aren't hopelessly mired in things. He also is much more likely to get rid of something, to just throw it straight out into the garbage without a second thought, than I. (I must steel myself against looking into the bag after bag after bag he carries out to the garbage bin in the garage. I will confess, in previous moves, I've been known to Dumpster Dive in my own home to rescue some picture or memento or another from the trash.) It is true, most of the stuff Hubby tosses out is stuff I never miss, stuff I haven't thought of in years, but that doesn't mean he's right, right? And you never know when you might need one of those things........

Beyond the hassle of actually boxing stuff up (and the aches of actually loading and unloading it thereafter) is the time-suck involved. Again, this is an area where Hubby does a better, speedier and more efficient job than I. I spent a good hour yesterday thumbing through a pile of random, old things that I'd managed to save for decades now (and which had been living on the topmost shelf of the bookcase that stood in our bedroom for the past nine years, but now is off in the storage unit, leaving a weirdly blank wall in its place). Case in point, this photo, which is a Polaroid (I don't think they're even making Polaroid film any more...) of me surrounded by my sisters, brothers and one of my best friends, taken sometime during the winter of my senior year of high school (oh, and while I'm on the subject of stuff, the dresser you can partially see on the right hand side of the picture? Hubby and I just moved that out of our basement and off to the storage unit yesterday...):
or this newspaper clipping also from my senior year of high school (note: it was January. I was wearing white pants. WHITE PANTS. Granted, they had a black pinstripe, but seriously? White? In January? I don't know that I can even use "it was the 80s!" as an excuse there... I mean, yes, we hadn't been told our picture was going to be taken for the paper that day, but still, I chose to wear white pants in January of my own free will and thought I looked good that way. WTH was I thinking?) (I wish that I could say those white pants were the worst of my youthful fashion transgressions - other than the hair, of course - but alas, I am having horrific flashbacks right now to a different pair of pants. A pair of cream colored, corduroy, jodhpur-style pants. That I wore with knee-high, high heeled, black leather "riding" boots. Thinking I looked good, hip and fashionable. Oh Sweet Godmother of Wilma Flintstone. Why am I even considering going to my upcoming 20th reunion?!) (also note: I blacked out the names of the other kids in the photo here because they may not be so keen on having ancient pictures of themselves bandied about the interwebz):

or this picture, which my youngest brother (then 6 years old) drew for me to hang up in my dorm room my freshman year of college (he and I share a common love of Garfield, which Kiddo now has developed herself):

Yep, I've saved them all for decades. How could I throw them out now? I couldn't, so into a box and off to storage they went yesterday, along with two mismatched socks that Kiddo wore when she was first born, that are so insanely tiny that I can't believe a human being could ever really be small enough to wear them. Kiddo didn't believe it either, when I showed them to her before tucking them into the box. And to think that even though they were "preemie" sized, they still were so large on her that the heel part went halfway up her leg... *sigh* Whoops, sorry, carried away by nostalgia again, my bad.

Other stuff, I am trying really hard to get rid of, though. (Beyond the cellulite - though I must tell you about the Zumba class I did for the first time last Friday morning. That's another post though.) Stuff like old Christmas cards. I never throw away Christmas cards, or at least, not easily. The record for oldest card I came across during this weekend's decluttering? 1991. In my defense, it was a photo card... I also have wedding cards (hello, 1995), congratulatory cards from Kiddo's birth and subsequent baby showers (by being born 5.5 weeks early as she was, she managed to be a guest at all of her baby showers), her baptism, Mother's Day cards (okay, at least those only go back to 2003), anniversary cards, etc. I found in one stash a few cards and notes that Hubby gave me back when we were first dating. Awwwwwwww. I showed a few of them to Hubby when he came upstairs to check on my progress - or more accurately, as he suspected, lack thereof, and he just rolled his eyes. Romance and nostalgia really are the stuff-keeping enemies of Operation Declutter.

So, in closing, 2009 is turning out to be the Year of the Great Decluttering here in Heather's world. Just promise you won't laugh if you spot me rooting through the trash bags to reclaim some of my stuff, or sneaking off to the storage unit to visit my stuff in the months to come, mmmkay? As you can see from what I've already shared above, if I've known you (IRL) for any length of time, the odds are quite good that I still have photos you might not want me to make public...!

What about you guys? Is anyone else a victim of nostalgia and sentimentality like I am? Any other pack rats (no pejorative connotation intended) besides me? What do you do with old cards and letters? Should I try to sell some of the more valuable stuff on Craiglist or Ebay, or just go ahead and freecycle it all like Hubby wants to get rid of it faster? Anyone want to buy a ladies' Movado Museum watch, never worn, new in box? (I would've worn it but the dang strap is too delicate and short for my ginormous man-hand wrist.) What was your worst teenage fashion mistake, and would you care to share a photo of it with the blogosphere? *grin*

Mmmmmmeme!

There's this alphabet meme that's been making the rounds of the blogosphere, and the always delightful Georgie gave me a letter so I could play, too! Thanks, Georgie!! She gave me the letter M, and now I have to come up with ten things I like that start with M... As many other meme-attempters have said, this is harder than it looks, as it turns out! Here goes:

1. Motherhood.


Best thing ever. 'Nuff said.

2. Movies.


Love 'em, and don't get to see enough of 'em these days, either in the theater (especially in the theater!) or even on DVD. I can't wait until Kiddo is old enough that Hubby and I can resume our moviegoing habits without having to worry about being able to make that month's mortgage payment so we can hire a sitter AND see a movie.

3. Music.


Just about any kind, except heavy/death metal, opera and most rap or hip-hop. Otherwise, I'm your girl! From showtunes to classical to 80s pop to country to gospel to rock to folk, oh yeah, it's all good. (My love of music and relative talent in the area does not, however, mean I can dance. I can't. I'm hopeless on a dance floor.)

4. Macaroni and cheese.

Preferably with bacon. Hey, these chins didn't grow themselves, you know. It took help. Help and laziness in the kitchen come dinnertime.

5. Uh-oh, I'm not even halfway through yet and I'm drawing a blank. I'm strongly tempted to say Meorge Mlooney, but I'll save that for if I get really desperate round about number 9 or 10. How about, instead, I'll go with Musicals.


Different than music, I think, as a "musical" is a type of theatrical production. I love musicals. LOVE them. I'm a Broadway Baby. What's that? You want to know my top ten, all time favorite musicals? Well, since you asked and in alphabetical, not favorites order....

• A Chorus Line
• Anything Goes
• Cabaret
• Cats
• Chicago
• Guys and Dolls
• Hello, Dolly!
• La Cage Aux Folles
• Les Miserables
• The Lion King

6. Magicians.
Well, not *all* magicians - that Criss Angel dude freaks me out and David Blaine annoys the heck out of me. (I'm thinking they probably consider themselves "illusionists" or something instead of straight-out magicians, anyhow.) Penn and Teller, though? They rock! I used to make a point out of going to see their show at least once whenever Hubby and I went to Vegas, often on my own as Hubby preferred playing poker to seeing a show he'd seen before. Another great magician who works in Vegas is Mac King. When we saw him, I laughed hard enough to give myself a severe side cramp. Funny and amazing at the close-up magic, who could ask for anything more? Heck, I even am a Siegfried and Roy fan - we saw their show, too. (I even saw their 3-D IMAX movie - in the theater - back in the day.) It's not just Vegas magicians, though - any magician who is halfway decent, better if they're funny as well.

7. Merriment and Mirth (wow, a twofer!). I love to be happy, I love to laugh. (Who doesn't?) My default mode is to always look for the sunny side of life. Unless I've got PMS, in which case all I want to look for is a bag of Cheez Doodles, a bar or six of chocolate, and a comfy spot to curl up upon and moan. But other than those few days, I'm all about sunshine and happiness and humor and smiles and joy, and those things that bring them, like

7.5. Muppets!



8. Mignon, filet.


(Yeah, I'm cheating a bit - still it's better than busting out Meorge Mlooney!) Medium rare, preferably with Bearnaise sauce and/or wrapped in bacon. I have it at most once a year if I'm lucky, but I love it.

9. Milk.
Well, actually, any and all milk products, aka dairy. Again, these chins (and thigh rolls, hip rolls, belly rolls and back rolls) didn't grow themselves, and you can't put that much pressure on a poor, little box of macaroni and cheese. See, cheese. Mmmm, cheese. Sour cream. Ice cream. Whipped cream. Butter. Yogurt. Cottage cheese. If it is made from something that came out of a cow's udder, I am a fan. I even like milk, straight up (or, of course, with chocolate sauce or Ovaltine. Mmmmmm, Ovaltine....)

10. Okay, for my tenth and final Favorite Thing that Starts with the Letter M, I've got a good one, especially given my recent wedding anniversary (and thanks for all the good wishes, y'all! You're all so sweet!): Matrimony. Marriage. There's nothing like it, and hopefully the day isn't too far off when everyone can get married, regardless of with whom it is they fall in love...



All right, there are my 10, and I didn't even have to use Meorge (or Malan Mickman or Meddie Mizzard, either) to get there. Whew. Anyone else want to play? Let me know and I'll happily give you a letter!

When urban legends are true

As any of you who have read my blog in the past week are aware, Kiddo has RSV. With the RSV has come thick-n-plentiful congestion and a frequent cough. I'd posted about this on my Facebook status the day before yesterday (because if one is going to whinge on about something, one might as well whinge on in any available forum, eh? I Twittered about it too...). Within an hour, I had no less than three of my friends reply to my FB status update to suggest that I rub Vicks on the soles of Kiddo's feet at bedtime.

Now, I'd heard of this practice before and dismissed it pretty much out of hand. I mean, when I was a kid, sure, Mom would slather my throat and chest with Vicks (then wrap a dishtowel around my neck, safety-pinned at the back, under my jammies) whenever I had a bad chest cold/cough. But that makes some amount of sense, what with the vapors having good proximity to the breathing and all. How on earth could having Vicks on the bottom of one's feet be beneficial, if one sleeps like a normal human (or even like Kiddo, with her various contortions and shiftings about in her sleep) and not pretzeled up like some master yoga practitioner?? Plus, the instructions include covering the Vicks-slathered feet with socks (for bed linens-protection purposes) which adds a further layer of vapor-blocking to the enterprise.

But still, THREE people. Three mothers who I find to be not only quite sane, but utterly trustworthy, no less. All three of them were telling me of their first-hand experience doing this and swearing to me that this Vicks-on-feet thing worked. I told Hubby about it, and he scoffed. I told him I thought I might try it, and he rolled his eyes and scoffed further, then remarked that it would "ruin the bedding" before considering the matter closed. I googled it and proceeded to read the Snopes article (oh Snopes, how I adore thee and thy debunking ways) which didn't give a solid confirmation or denial. I clicked back to my google search results and proceeded to read blog after blog after message board after message board post about how mom after mom tried this with much success. (Of course no one hopped onto the interwebz to announce they'd tried this method and found it to be full of hooey....) It sure seemed like a lot of anecdotal evidence... I considered the idea some more.

When I announced my intention to Vicksify her feet at Kiddo's bedtime, Hubby threw his hands up and shook his head, as Hubby is wont to do when I'm on to one of my "crazy schemes", but I persisted. I slathered the bottoms of Kiddo's feet with Vicks (well, actually, with Generic Mentholated Rub Goo) and double-socked them, just to be sure that the linens and vast horde of stuffed animals that share Kiddo's bed wouldn't be too camphortastic come morning. We also ran the cool mist humidifier (set to "tropical rainforest") with the Vicks scented pad thingy in the holder for additional mentholated effect. Hubby was rather skeptical, and to be honest, so was I, but I figured it wasn't going to hurt anything, except maybe a stuffed animal or twelve who might need a bath come morning.

Kiddo fell asleep. Time ticked by. Nary a cough sounded from her room. I was up until almost midnight (thanks to an afternoon nap that threw my schedule totally off) and still, not a cough. Kiddo is an impressive cougher, too - it rings out through the house, reverberating off the walls in such a manner as to make our house seem like one of those sanitarium tuberculosis wards of old. All I heard was silence. I checked on her before turning in at twelve. Sleeping soundly and breathing pretty well (she was snoring, as she does whenever she's congested). Hmmmm.

This morning, Kiddo woke us up shortly after seven. Not by coughing up a lung, mind you, but by scampering into our room, relatively bright eyed and bushy tailed. Well, bushy haired at any rate - the kid does an awesome "bed head" look, even with her hair secured in a pony tail or braids before sleep. No coughing. None. Her nasal congestion also was markedly improved - I did the "squirt squirt" routine (nasal saline spray and much nose blowing) with her this morning and there was hardly anything produced compared to the floods of ick that scoffed at the Puffs Plus and exploded over my hand of yesterday.

Now, it is entirely possible that this is all coincidental, that Kiddo would've been this much improved without any wacky old wives'-urban legend remedy. Hubby thinks it was just the added presence of vapors in the room and posited that had I done as my mother did and rubbed it onto Kiddo's chest/throat instead, it would've worked as well if not better than the feet. Hmmmm. All I know is that 24 hours ago I was thinking there was no way Kiddo was going to be healthy enough to go back to school tomorrow, and now today? I totally think she could. She has no fever, hardly any congestion, and has only coughed once since she woke up. We're staying home again today and having one more day of "taking it easy" just to be safe, but all signs point to YES on the return to school, and you'd better believe I'm rejoicing over that.

Either way, you can be darn sure I'm going to Vicks her feet again tonight!

Wake me when it is 2010!

I honestly had *no* intentions of staying up until midnight last night. We wound up not having company due to the rather inclement weather of yesterday, though Hubby did make the run out to our favorite Chinese restaurant for our traditional New Year's Eve dinner. We couldn't manage to play Wii Mario Kart while eating, so we flipped around and settled on the 70s classic That's Entertainment, which is the first of a documentary trilogy I adored as a child (and even rented many, many times from our local video store back when my family first acquired a VCR in the 80s. Yes, I was so hip as a preteen, I rented movie musical documentary videotapes) and which Hubby had never seen. We watched until the first movie ended (they were running all three in succession, followed by one I'd never seen called That's Dancing, which I totally would have recorded to watch today except for the fact that 90% of our DVR space is presently taken up with episodes of Bindi the Jungle Girl, aka Kiddo's latest obsession, and there wasn't room). Hubby then, quite sensibly, went to bed around 10pm. I shut off the TV and headed upstairs when he did, but sat down at my computer "to turn it off" ...and the next thing I knew, it was 11:46 and at that point, I figured if I was still up it would be silly not to stay up the extra 14 minutes. Kind of like getting within eyesight of the peak of Mt. Everest and then saying "Eh, I'm heading back to base camp." (Note: I never in my entire life have or will ever climb Mt. Everest, so this is possibly the most farfetched comparison I could make... I haven't even attempted to scale Mt. Clean Laundry that has reached rather towering heights atop my dresser in ages!) So, I shut off my computer, congratulating myself heartily on my fortitude so that I wouldn't get sucked back into the blogosphere (and/or my 23 current Wordscraper matches on Facebook) again at 12:03am. I curled up on the couch with the cat to watch the ball drop. I was happy to see Dick Clark seemed better this year than last. I didn't have the New Year's show on long enough to be terrifically annoyed by Ryan Seacrest or Kellie Pickler (though whatever genius hired her to speak extemporaneously on live TV must be worried about his/her job this morning) and before I knew it, the ball had dropped. Mission accomplished - 2009 it was!

Why I didn't immediately turn off the television and go straight up to bed at that point, I cannot say. Why I chose instead to peruse the channel guide and notice that Chicago was just starting on IFC and decide to flip over to catch the opening number is beyond me. I told myself "I'll just watch All That Jazz and then go to bed." Then All That Jazz ended and I remembered that McNulty from The Wire played Fred Casely in Chicago and I told myself "I'll just watch 'til the first commercial break and then go to bed." Yeah, one slight flaw with that brilliant plan: IFC doesn't have commercials. The crazy cat and I wound up watching the entire movie, which I will admit I haven't seen in its entirety in quite some time, and the next thing I knew, it was a quarter to two. This is the point at which any sensible, extremely tired, usual-bedtime-is-no-later-than-10pm kind of mature and responsible adult would've shut the TV off and headed up to bed straightaway, but some possessed part of me insisted upon surfing the channel guide one last time before convincing myself it was utterly ridiculous to think I could start watching That's Entertainment III which was starting in five minutes, because then I'd be up past 4am. I haven't done an all-nighter in decades, not counting those nights when Kiddo was ill and I *had* to be up with her over the past five and a half years. Seriously, I am the woman who goes to bed well before midnight even when on vacation in Vegas. I need my sleep.

So, I hefted the cat off of my lap and staggered upstairs to brush my teeth and collapse in bed at a most impressive 2:16 in the morning. Why is it, then, that my body decided it needed to be wide awake at its usual time of 6am?? By all rights, I shouldn't have cracked an eye open before noon, at least... Oh, right - my bladder. Darn thing insists on being emptied like clockwork at 6am. I fought it until 7, but then it became a necessity to get up. I attempted to go back to bed, but the smell of bacon wafting up from downstairs where Hubby was cooking breakfast and Kiddo was playing Diego Animal Rescue something-or-other on the Wii became too irresistible. So, here I am, awake but exhausted, and wishing I could spend the start of this new year snoozing away instead of taking down the tree and doing some serious tidying up. Thank heavens I have a decent supply of Mountain Dew Code Red left over from our drive to NJ last week. I may need to inhale some enormous quantities of peppermint bark as well, for purely medicinal purposes, of course - must get ample sugar in the blood to stay upright!

And thus concludes the cautionary tale I will remind myself of next New Year's Eve: I am TOO DANG OLD to stay up until midnight anymore.

Oh, while surfing the interwebz last night - erm, I mean last year (hee hee, sorry, I love those kinds of corny jokes on January 1st), I came across a video that I swear is exactly how I spent my post-midnight TV watching. I must share it with you now; the only difference is that I was watching a musical, not sports:



Hee hee! So, tell me, blogosphere friends, how many of you made it up 'til midnight? Were you partying or at home in your jammies like me? Anyone have any ambitious resolutions? If you are a Wii owner, are you as utterly pathetic at every Wii game imaginable as I appear to be? (Seriously, the only thing I have aced thus far is the Handbell Harmony game on Wii Music, and this comes after ringing handbells in real life for several years... but by that method, I ought to be much better at Mario Kart, tennis and bowling too...) Anyhow, Happy New Year!

Holidays thus far...

Whew, hope everyone is having a good holiday break thus far! We've had rather a whirlwind past few days, ourselves. For the first time in my 37 years of life, I did not spend Christmas Eve and/or Christmas morning with my parents. I was the last of the children to break the tradition; every year up until this year, we'd drive down a day or three before Christmas and stay at my parents' house until at least the day or three afterwards. This year, Hubby, Kiddo and I spent our very first Christmas alone, just the three of us, at least for Christmas morning. After Kiddo (who was beginning to think Santa would only bring her presents to Grandma and Grandpa's) opened her presents Christmas morning, we had breakfast, loaded up the car and drove on down to the motherland (aka New Jersey). Our only snafu was not being able to find a single, solitary fast food establishment between our house and my parents' house that was open and serving food. We were a little surprised that no one was open, even with it being Christmas day - we just figured somebody would be cashing in on all the travelers with appetites who hadn't thought to pack a lunch. (Well, The Waffle House in Clarks Summit PA was open but they don't have a drive-thru...) Hubby wound up buying us a bag of pretzels and a box of Pop Tarts at a gas station minimart and that plus the candy and bananas we had in the car already tided us over, mostly, until we made it to NJ. We arrived just when all the rest of the family arrived midafternoon, thanks to decent roads, decent weather and light traffic. (Total count at my parents' house for Christmas dinner: 17 adults, 6 kids ranging in age from Kiddo at 5 and a half right on down to the youngest nephew who is 13 months old, not counting the two more babies yet in utero.) As is customary, there was lots of food, then gift exchanging and opening, then even more food, then games, then dessert (yes, more food!) and more games and then collapsing.

The day after Christmas isn't known as Boxing Day in our family, but rather "Game Night" day. Everyone who is still in town gathers again at Mom and Dad's for leftovers (we're talking turkey *and* ham here, people - way too much food) and board games. Over the past several years, those games have come to include a poker tournament, which I am proud to say I won this year, including beating Hubby who finished second. (Mwah-ha-ha!) If anyone wants to stake me for the WSOP, I'm ready to go..... This year, we weren't expecting any of Kiddo's cousins to be attending Game Night besides the youngest (who, while ridiculously adorable, isn't really of an age yet where he is able to be much of a playmate for Kiddo) but then my sister and brother-in-law wound up coming, so Kiddo had her favorite cousin - only because he is closest in age to her and therefore a perfect playmate - to run around the farm with all day. Bonus!! Also a bonus: our new Wii. We brought it down to NJ with us and Hubby hooked it up on Mom and Dad's humongous TV, and many games of Wii this and Wii that and Wii the other thing commenced. I probably should mention here: I suck at Wii Sports. Seriously. Well, Wii Bowling, anyhow. I'm not kidding: both Kiddo and my 4 year old nephew kicked my butt at Wii Bowling. (As did my 25 year old brother, but you know, somehow that is a tiny bit less humiliating, especially considering that was the first day I'd ever played Wii anything and he's been Wiitastic for a couple of years now.)

Yesterday, Hubby and I took Kiddo into New York City (henceforth referred to merely as "the city" because seriously, it is the city, is it not?) for the day. She's been in the city before, but the last time was two years ago, and she didn't really get it. This time, however, she got it all. She loved every second, from riding the train in (standing room only - she was the only member of the family who enjoyed that particular part) to taking the subway and buses to get around the city to the tall buildings and crowds and everything. We didn't have a highly ambitious itinerary: The Museum of Natural History, FAO Schwarz and Rockefeller Center to see the tree and skaters. (I harbored a secret hope of taking Kiddo skating, but the plaza - actually all of Manhattan! - was insanely crowded, so we couldn't even make it to the line, much less the ice. Oh well, something to do next time!) Kiddo loved the museum this time around (we took her there a few years ago, too, but she was a bit too young then), especially the dinosaurs, ocean and African animal exhibits. She loved FAO Schwarz, for obvious reasons (and despite the moratorium we imposed a year or so ago on new stuffed animals, Rory the Tiger came home from FAO with us). She loved the tree and the policemen on horses at Rockefeller Center, and all the other lights and decorations, too. She thought St. Patrick's Cathedral looked like a castle and proclaimed Trump Tower the biggest building she'd ever seen. All in all, a successful, if rather exhausting, trip. I have so many fond memories of taking trips into the city at Christmastime when I was growing up that I am extra glad that I was able to share that experience with Kiddo. I regret not having the same proximity to NYC now that I did as a child, but with relatives still within an hour of the city, at least we have proximity by relation...

Today was pack 'em up and drive 'em home day, which is exactly what we did. Along with the memories and overloaded photo memory card (and a few extra pounds I picked up from ALL THAT FOOOOOOOOD), I managed to bring home some New Jersey Germies. That is a souvenir I would've been happy to leave behind, alas. Now, I'm just looking forward to sleeping in my own bed and lounging about in jammies tomorrow, not to mention doing some serious blog-surfing! Hubby has to work at some point this week but probably won't go in to the office until Tuesday, and we've got several Wii games we haven't even tried yet. (He's downstairs playing Wii right now - I'm totally turning into a Wiidow!!) Still not sure what we're doing for New Year's, though I doubt we'll be going out.

And that is the brief (well, brief for me, anyhow!) recap. I shall now unload a few of the pictures off that memory card and leave you with the slightly more exciting photo recap of Heather's Holidays Thus Far!

Kiddo's most wanted gift from Santa (as written to and told to Santa many, many times) was a scooter. Tada!


Cousins having fun! Kiddo is 11 months older than her cousin, though he is a good 2.5-3 inches taller than she is (my sister and brother-in-law are both really, really tall!):


I went outside with Kiddo and my nephew to play with Grandma's new puppy on Game Night afternoon. (It's a 13 week old standard poodle who is too freaking cute and energetic.) When we were out back, there was a deafening noise. We looked up to see an absolute horde of Canada geese flying overhead. They landed in the fields back behind my parents' farm, and were the reason it sounded like a war had broken out in central NJ early the next morning. Apparently hunting the geese has been not only sanctioned but encouraged as there are so dang many of them.


Kids + ball + puppy + lots of room to run around outside = Exhaustion all around.


Which then leads to more uninterrupted time playing Wii for the grown-ups....


On to NYC.... a kindly passer-by offered to take a picture of us in front of the ginormous whale in the oceans exhibit at the museum. No, no, no, the whale is behind me. Yep, that's the whale, honest. I ate a lot over the past few days, but not that much, I swear.....


On to the dinosaurs! Kiddo loved learning about them,

hanging out with them,



and especially touching them! This is an actual, 140 million year old Stegosaurus plate. Yes, Hubby and I touched it too. No, we didn't jam our hands underneath the approved opening the way Kiddo did....


Rockefeller Center with the tree. Hubby: "Do you HAVE to take a picture right here, right now? There are ninety million people trying to get by us, here.........." Me: "Yes. Yes, I do."


Kiddo was literally oooohing and aaaaahing over the size of the buildings, the holiday decorations and the lights.


Kiddo hasn't yet seen the movie Big, but that didn't stop her from waiting forever in line ("I'll be really, really patient if we can wait, please, please, Mommy and Daddy??") and dancing on top of the Big Piano:



Even the subway is an adventure..........


Now, I'm off to play the Harry Potter game Santa brought me on the Wii. I promise I'll make the rounds of everyone's blogs tomorrow!!