The weather here has been so unseasonably lovely. It's like 50 something-or-other today! I love it because it's . . . well . . . warm, but I don't love it because it's . . . just . . . so . . . unChristmas-like and I can't help but feeling . . .
Wo. Wait. Stop, Nancy. Stop.
Shoot. I just realized I was talking about weather. (Said with my head shrinking awkwardly into my uplifted shoulders.) This always happens. I start missing writing, and, in desperation for something to say – something to satisfy the blank-screen emptiness – I leap right into the weather.
We may as well all be on a first date. And . . . it's clearly not going well. “So . . . it's sure been . . .warm for December.”
“Yah. Really warm.” Uncomfortable silence. “Do you like . . . snow . . . and stuff?”
Shudder. And also sigh. I just want to spill out something thought provoking. Or funny. Or insightful. Or interesting. Because I feel like those things are there – thoughtful and interesting – coursing through me, bouncing around in my head and hitting off the sides like some sort of a pinball game. But . . . sometimes they just won't . . . I don't know . . . coalesce. They won't materialize into writeable words.
Perhaps they just need a little more time to steam before they are ready to condense. (Ooh . . . metaphor though that was, it does kind of feel that way. Nicely done, self.)
Ah well. A photo dump from the cell phone then.
My boring plan of simply throwing away the pumpkins that still remained around here from Halloween and Thanksgiving was upped to “way more fun” by Mike's addition of baseball bats and also . . . axes. (Yipes.)
And . . . miscellaneous stuff. *When I blow dry my hair, Anders often demands I turn the dryer on him. *Look how mad Goldie is at Abe for spraying whip-cream into his mouth during our “hot cocoa party”. *Daisy's warm clothes/camping chair pic was taken moments before leaving to the local-ish Christmas parade . . . and was almost all for naught as we discovered, just before leaving, that our dog had run off. Luckily, dog was found, and we made our way through the traffic and crowds – thanks to Mike's excellent driving, parking and overall navigating skills – just in time for the parade to start.)
I love our magnet board. It is an easy way for me to switch out displayed pictures on a regular basis. Also, at four months, Summer's hands still can't touch over her head. That always makes me chuckle.
The girls had some of their cousins over for cookie-making and crafting. I love so much that Daisy and Goldie are old enough to create “fun” of this nature with pretty much no effort on my end. They did everything from making the dough, to figuring out the craft, to organizing the order in which kids would take turns to “cookie-cut”.
Daisy, of her own accord, convinced Penny to let her give her piano lessons a few months ago. While it hasn't been incredibly consistent, I have been amazed at how much Penny has learned from a few “lessons” with her older sister. When it came time for Daisy's Christmas piano recital, her teacher said that Penny would be welcome to perform at it as well. And then . . . we went to Old Navy and Michael's. (Shrug.)
Penny and Anders studying their Pokemon. Thank goodness. And Anders playing with our set of Book of Mormon figures. I always have mixed feelings about kids playing with “scripture characters”. I've mentioned before how I once chanced upon several of our nativity figures – all loaded in the Barbie Corvette and headed for Smith and Edwards Country Store. Oh the potential for sacrilege . . .
Anywho, happy Christmassy-time-of-year to you all! I keep hearing about everyone having their shopping all done and their presents all wrapped, and, it's too much to bear – hearing those things. We haven't even started – on Christmas or the two birthdays we'll celebrate next week. I've simply had my hands too full hot-glueing all our broken Christmas decorations back together. Me and that hot glue gun? We're tight.