This is not a meme. Even though it looks exactly like one.

I was tagged by Karlene. Here are the rules:

1. List 12 random things about yourself that have to do with Christmas

2. Please refer to it as a 'hoopla' and not the dreaded 'm'-word.)

3. You have to specifically tag people when you're done. None of this "if you're reading this, consider yourself tagged" stuff is allowed.

4. Please try and do it as quickly as possible. The Christmas season will be over before we know it and whoever started this not-meme would like to get as many people involved as possible.

My 12 things:

1. Every year I plan to get all my shopping done online, and all before the 2nd week of December. I'm very good at getting the easiest 90% of it done around the 10th of December. At this point I'm feeling really good about myself, so I breathe an early sigh of relief. And I keep breathing until Christmas eve when I'm still stuck with the last 10%: the hardest people on my list to buy for. The path to failure is paved with good intentions.

2. My favorite Christmas treats are homemade caramels, Teresa's rice crispy caramel things, and chocolate cake with candy cane frosting.

3. One year for Christmas my brother and I got RBI Baseball on the Nintendo along with these huge 9 inch tall gingerbread men. That Christmas we spent the entire day playing baseball and eating gingerbread. My sisters didn't like the taste of theirs, so I ate three of them in one day. I still remember how gross I felt after eating those guys and it has affected my love for gingerbread ever since.

4. I'm so selfish that when I go Christmas shopping for my mom and sisters it goes something like this: "Ooh! Look at these earrings! One for Meg, one for McKenna." "RAD SHOES! One pair for Mom, one for McKenna" "Oh this lip gloss is perfect. One for Mel, one for Kenna." It's a problem.

5. "Perfume Models" (so they call themselves) bug the holy crap out of me. (Merry Christmas)

6. I love Christmas music. But whoever wrote that stupid Christmas Shoes songs needs to be shot. I can't listen to that song without bawling. And today we heard a new song from that same written-for-the-soul-purpose-of-making-you-feel-miserable genre and Steve and I both were crying. His cry was sweet and quiet. I was full on sobbing.

7. I suck at wrapping presents. It looks really amazing until I get to the side parts where you do the tuck-in thing with the folded-over triangle and that's when it all goes down hill. UGH.

8. After opening presents, my family does a movie theater marathon. We see 3-4 movies right in a row at the theater. It is awesomely exhausting.

9. Although one of our Christmases was celebrated last night, my other family (I have two, see.) celebrates it on the "real" Christmas. That means there's still time left for someone to give me Wentworth Miller. I mean, if he popped out of a box with a big red bow? It would be LEGEN-- wait for it -- .... DARY.

10. By the time Christmas is over I'm so sick of it all I go into hybernation for at least a week. Maybe it's the lights and sugar and stress that make me anxious and depressed all at the same time. I'm so good at faking it the whole way through December, and then when I crawl into bed on the night of the 25th, I end up crying myself to sleep. I wake up the next morning to sunshine and daisies. Except the daisies are really snow and ice. But I pretend they're daisies because that's how they feel in my heart. It's so special.

11. I hate sports. I.HATE.SPORTS. Like, I really don't get it. Neat! - That guy can run fast! Neat! - That guy can ram into someone and make them fall over! Neat! - That girl jumping and screaming is hot! - Neat! Beer! - Neat! Steroids! - Neat! He tore his ACL but it was such an awesome play! - Neat! - SPORTS! (Merry Christmas)

12. I think we should do more for others and less for ourselves during Christmas. Me included, I'm not on a soap box. Christmas should be enjoyed. December should be joyful. It shouldn't be frantically packed with so many parties. We had 9 this year. I missed tonight's (#10) and still have 3 more before we ring in 2008. I think I might just be DONE. Sorry if I don't show up to yours.

Family Pictures

Today is my Christmas and I'm still not done shopping. Christmas is in approximately 4 hours and 45 minutes and I'm not leaving work for another 3 hours and 45 minutes. Oh the joys. Bah humbug. Here are some family pics we just got back today.

These quizzes are so lame but I have to take them anyway. And of course I'm Alice. And my son is a werewolf.

Which Twilight novel character are you?

You're Alice Cullen - You are vivacious and full of energy! Your childlike way of looking at life makes you both amusing and special to your friends. You make an excellent friend, although you do have a tendency to get uppity if you're not immediately given your way- people often give into you for your charm. Take this quiz! Quizilla | Join | Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

Old news, but still really, really awesome

I saw this last year (or maybe the year before) but am still in awe at it. So I thought I'd post it for those of you who haven't seen it. And I promise you it is truly for real. My dad won't believe it no matter how many times he sees it, he'll swear it's doctored up, but it's not. All I can say is this guy's neighbors probably hate him by the end of the season.

This song is a very appropriate theme for me tonight, as its beats-per-minute are perfectly synchronized with my running around getting last minute gifts and wrapping them. My family's Christmas is being celebrated this Friday, so tonight is Christmas Eve-Eve for me. And let's just say I'm not quite crying yet, but tomorrow I will be for sure.

26

I'd like to say I have some profound thoughts about turning 26 years old today, but I don't. I've spent my entire life wishing I was older. Many times I have lied about my age. Not lied, but let people assume I was older than I really am without correcting them. I think this stemmed from the time I started my first job. It wasn't a job most 14-15 year olds start out with. Every single one of my co-workers was in college and I had a major age-inferiority complex going on. My dad was "the boss" and I was determined to prove to people that the reason I had my job wasn't because of that fact. I didn't want to be the cliché of "the boss's daughter". I looked older than 15, so when people assumed, I let them. It only became a problem when 24 year old guys would invite me to come out with them to lunch. I remember one guy named Kelly had it bad for me. He had no idea how young I was and when he asked me out, I told him to hold on for a minute and then I ran into my Dad's office to ask him what on earth I should do. Ever helpful, he told me to go out with him and don't tell him how young I was until after he had paid for lunch.

It turns out that while trying to prove my working capabilities despite my age, I had erred on the side of being too good an employee. I didn't realize it until several years later when I overheard a co-worker talking about how she could take advantage of me because I stick my nose in my assigned project, not coming up for air until it was finished, and then immediately go back to ask for more work, like some sort of puppy. Well that was a big wake-up call, and also the beginning of me being a normal employee, the kind that allowed herself to pee during the day. Or stop at the drinking fountain for a minute.

But even since that wake-up call, I've still always worried what people thought of my age, like they wouldn't respect me as much as I deserved. What would they think of a 24 year old woman doing this job? I've often wondered at what age would I finally not wish I was older. What number would it take? When would stop pausing before answering the question, "how old are you?" so that I could figure out how old I really am, since I honestly forgot from lying about it more often than not? Well, apparently that number is 26, but I didn't know it would be that number until the last few days. I'm okay with being 26. I don't feel too young or two old. I'm just 26. So what?

Enjoying...

a handful of Bit-O-Honeys and this song, along with the entire album it comes from, Our Endless Numbered Days.

I was a fool to believe

Did you know that Simon Dewey is a Brit? Or at least he has a British accent. Maybe it's a fake. Well anyway, I met him last night (during the same trip to Costco where I was sad to be informed I don't look as young as I thought I did). And he has a British accent.

When I was in media makeup artistry school I was taught that all high-fashion photographers have either a French or English accent. It's part of their photography school curriculum and the French or English depends on what school they went to. Now that I type this all out I realize I'm a fool. Who would believe that? And what sort of fashion photographer actually goes to school anymore anyway? It's so much more elite to be self-taught.

So, that awakening-to-the-truth thing that just happened to me with the fake accents? It's like when you're seven, and you're eavesdropping on an adult conversation in which someone makes a political joke and you take it literally and spend the next 15 years thinking Saddam Hussein's name really ISN'T Saddam, it's just what the Americans nicknamed him because it's "mad-ass" spelled backwards. And then when you're older and wiser Saddam comes back into the picture. Except this time you actually get the joke, and your mind swirls back through 15 whole years in just a matter of seconds, to rectify all those times you thought you were so clever for calling Saddam such a naughty, secret codename.

Perhaps a fitting follow-up post to the one where you learned my husband used to babysit me.

We were just at Costco, and there was a cute girl about my age working the checkout line. I thought I heard another employee call her "McKenna". So when we got up to her, I asked, "Did he just call you McKenna?" She said yes and I said, "We have the same name!" She then gave me a high-five and said, "Awesome! I've never met another McKenna that was older than me!" And the rest of the conversation doesn't even need to be written here because, I mean, what else is there, right?

Except that in the parking lot on the way out this happened:

"I swear that girl in there was no younger than you."
"I know right? Do I look old for my age? "
"Well I didn't think so but one has to beg the question after that!"
"Maybe it's because I have a baby."
"Or maybe it's me."
"It's YOU! YOU make me look old! You drag me up to 30!"

How I met him the second time around

One day in 1st grade I was sick with the flu and stayed home from school. My mom worked as a writer for a local newspaper and needed to go in to the office for a while, so she dropped me off at her friend's house. It happened that her friend's son, Stephen, almost 4 years older than me, was sick with the flu as well. I was a little shy and nervous in their house, my mom's friend intimidated me, although very nice. She sat us down next to each other on the couch and handed each of us a large saucepan, just in case we needed to puke. There we sat, side by side, big, black pans on our laps. I have a snapshot in my brain of that very moment. The first memory I have of my husband.

Our mothers have been best friends since I can remember. Stephen's older sisters were my favorite babysitters, and I especially idolized his sister Ami. She could drive a car, and she listened to such a cool radio staion: "Kissin' 97". And Gina. She drove a bullet bike! Rad. Occasionally, Stephen and his brother Mike would co-babysit me and my younger siblings. I remember playing tag in our house and generally being a nine year old pain in the butt to them. I was the most precocious thing at that age. I would get teased in the neighborhood for being the biggest liar, and I deserved it. I made up such stories. Told the neighbor I was adopted. When she said that's not possible because I look just like my dad, I told her, "well my dad's my real dad, but my mom's not my real mom".

So you can see why, many years later, I didn't go up to Steve and say "hi" when I spotted him at the gym. I didn't want him to remember that annoying nine year old. I hadn't seen him in a decade. Not a glimpse, not even a picture. And there he was on the elliptical, big and burly like a teddy bear.

And the next day, I saw him at the pizza house during lunch.

And the next day I spotted him at the mall, then came home to tell my mom, who was still regularly in touch with Steve's mom.

"Mom, I have run into Steve G. the last three days in a row. Weird! And. He's cute. And. Maybe he would like to be my friend or maybe ask me out. You should call his mom and tell her to tell him to call me!"

After ten minutes of utter protest, I finally convinced her to call Steve's mom. Fast-forward several days and my phone rings. It's Steve. He's on a business trip in Tuscon and his mom gave him my number just before he left. Originally he refused to call. Too weird, right? "I used to babysit her." But something told him to just pick up the phone and get re-acquainted. We talked for several hours and I don't remember a more enjoyable conversation. He came home a few days later and took me to the playhouse and to dinner, where I incidentally managed to break my fork.

He was different from other guys. Other guys opened doors for me. Fine. This guy pushed in my chair at dinner. He held my coat open for me to slide my arms in. He turned the heater in his car on full blast to keep me from shivering, even though it made him sweat. He deeply respected me. He wasn't too cool to be goofy. He didn't kiss me until Thanksgiving, four dates later.

And by Christmas, we knew we were forever.
And by New Years, he had picked out a ring.
And by Spring, we had tied the knot.
And today he still makes me laugh every day. He makes my soul smile.

Fortunately, unfortunately

Unfortunately, my computer's mother bored fried itself so I spent the entire exhausting day trying a million different fixes that of course didn't work.

Fortunately, I had an appointment at the salon after work. I always feel good with fresh color and a trim.

Unfortunately, I accidentally handed the cashier at the salon my company's credit card instead of my debit card, which means I accidentally stole $85 bucks. How do you explain yourself on that? There's no excuse other than, "I just wasn't thinking."

Fortunately, I looked really hot driving home in the dark.

Unfortunately, I looked down to find my gas light had been on for who knows how long.

Fortunately, I still had 15 minutes before I could pick up the pizza for dinner, so I had time to stop at the gas station.

Unfortunately, I couldn't get my debit card to work in the machine. It took five tries and 15 minutes standing in short sleeves in the freezing cold.

Fortunately, the pizza was still hot when I got there.

Unfortunately, my bank called me before I could even get home to ask if someone had stolen my card because a gas station just charged me $99 four times. Seriously, can anything work right for me today?

Fortunately, they are an awesome bank and refunded the charges immediately.

Unfortunately, I forgot to check my speedometer while driving on that one back road with the speed limit of a one-lane residential street, even though it's very much not one-lane, and very much not residential, and very much should be a 40mph road. I got pulled over.

Fortunately, the officer was really nice.

Unfortunately, he gave me a ticket anyway.

Fortunately, I didn't get hit by the train between my citation spot and my driveway, the pizza was tasty, and I got a good night's sleep because my chihuahua didn't bore his way under the covers to sleep in my bed. (Odd, I don't think there's been one single night he hasn't done that.)

Unfortunately, we woke up to find out that the reason he didn't sleep in our bed was because he slept on the front porch in the snow. All four pounds of him. Shivering. Purple. Delirious. Oops. (Note to future self: when you take the dog out to pee, let him back in)

Fortunately, he didn't die. A few minutes under the covers and he was back to his chipper self again.

Unfortunately, there are many days in my crazy life that follow this familiar pattern of chaos and confusion. Disarray. Cataclysm.

Fortunately, I always wake up the next day to find I am incredibly blessed with family, friends, shelter. And really, what else is there?

Peeking over the top of my book

This is a completely useless picture but I can't bring myself to delete it. Why does it bring me joy? Maybe because it looks like peace to me. This is my view from the couch, after the baby's in bed, after the dishes are done, and some of my favorite simple things are going on. My feet are propped up on the ottoman you see, I'm covered in a fuzzy blanket reading books and magazines by the light of my Christmas tree, and I'm drinking water from my favorite Coca-Cola glass.

100th Post

Because I'm so profoundly creative and different from everyone else, I decided to post 100 things about myself in honor of my 100th post to Shrek Loves Fiona. Don't fall asleep, kay?

1. I have green eyes.
2. I was named after Jane Seymour’s character in Somewhere In Time: Elise McKenna.
3. My middle name comes from my Dad’s Mom: Lyn.
4. I started this blog in April 2005 while I was in Tawain for a month on business. It was a means to communicate with my family and preserve the amazing culture I was experiencing.
5. I’ve been addicted to blogging ever since.
6. I am 2 years, 2 months, and 2 days older than my brother.
7. I can only drink a half a can of soda. I have to save the can in the fridge and finish it the next day.
8. Strawberries are my favorite food.
9. Well, I guess they’re tied for first with cheese.
10. I’ve known my husband since birth.
11. My husband babysat me when I was 8.
12. I have a Chihuahua named Dino.
13. I count things compulsively. How many people in the room, how many corners and sides on architectural things, how many letters on a billboard, what license plate numbers add up to, etc.
14. Besides addition, I’m horrible at doing math in my head.
15. I have played the piano for 18 years.
16. It makes me feel old to say that I’ve done something for 18 years.
17. I have played the guitar for 15 years.
18. I used to play the saxophone
19. I used to play the flute.
20. Once I bought a cello after breaking up with my boyfriend.
21. My mom said it was “rebound love”. Maybe she was right.
22. I took it back after two weeks because I didn’t have time to take lessons.
23. One day I will learn to play the cello well. It’s my favorite instrument.
24. I write poetry that no one reads.
25. I draw pictures that no one sees.
26. I love scrapbooks but hate scrap booking.
27. I love to sing and I’m good at it.
28. I’m a horrible dancer but have always wished I was good.
29. Despite the relationship between #27 & #28, I find So You Think You Can Dance so much more entertaining than American Idol.
30. I have a really acute olfactory sense (sense of smell)
31. My favorite smells are of books and coffee.
32. So it’s probably no surprise to you that Barnes & Noble is my happy place. And every time I go there I leave with a brand new book. I can’t help myself. It’s a souvenir from my experience there.
33. I only go to Barnes & Noble twice a year.
34. My parents got divorced when I was 11.
35. It made everyone happier.
36. My son is Native American.
37. I am not Native American, but my 13^th great grandma was Pocahontas.
38. When I was single, I would buy a new outfit from head to toe at least once per week.
39. When I was single I hated doing my laundry so badly that I would buy new underwear every week.
40. Once I got married I realized I had an addiction to shopping. Filling my shopping bag was like filling me up when my heart was empty.
41. I still get the urge to blow a ton of money on absolutely nothing. Sometimes I go to one of my favorite online stores, fill my bag with $100s of merchandise, fill out the credit card information, and then abandon the website. It satisfies my shopping craving even though I don’t click “Submit”.
42. Sometimes I click down on “ Submit”, hold it there for a moment, exhale, then move my mouse off of Submit before releasing the mouse button so the order doesn’t go through.
43. I have to drink a full glass of freezing cold water right before I climb into bed or I can’t fall asleep.
44. I wake up every single night to pee.
45. I have a benign pituitary tumor. The pituitary is the “brain” for your hormones and endocrine system. If you were to draw a line through the inside of your head from ear to ear, and another line from the top-center of your head down, your pituitary sits where those two lines would intersect, and is smaller than a pea.
46. 5 years ago, I had an endocrine system upset that caused me to gain 80 lbs in less than 3 months.
47. I still haven’t lost the weight.
48. I grit my teeth whenever I’m watching a movie because I feel like I should be doing something more productive.
49. Still, one of my favorite things to do is watch movies.
50. I don’t like milk chocolate.
51. I love the darkest dark chocolate. The more it bites you back when you bite it, the better it tastes.
52. My sister, Megan, and I have six matching freckles in identical places of our bodies.
53. One of them is in the left peak of our upper lip. I like that freckle.
54. I like my eyelashes.
55. I hate my big toes.
56. I hate wearing socks.
57. I hate cold weather.
58. I love the marketing emails Crate & Barrel sends. I save every single one. Whoever runs their marketing department must be my kindred. They know just the eye candy to make my heart smile.
59. My hair is naturally curly and I don’t mind it one bit.
60. I’ve never seen Indiana Jones.
61. I’ve never seen Top Gun.
62. Get over it, I’ll get around to seeing them when I feel like it.
63. I have a mega crush on Wentworth Miller from Fox’s Prison Break.
64. My husband wouldn’t let me name our son Wentworth or Miller.
65. I constantly apply lipgloss throughout the day.
66. I started a perfume/bath & body/home fragrance company.
67. I designed a signature fragrance for my dog. It’s the perfect blend to combat mustiness.
68. Sometimes I wear the dog’s perfume.
69. I get a lot of compliments when I wear it.
70. I was the choir president in high school.
71. Just because you’re choir president in high school doesn’t mean you’re an innocent angel.
72. I love the game World of Warcraft, but only played the 30 day trial and didn’t renew, for fear of letting it take up too much of my time.
73. I’m a freak about techie gadgets. The latest, greatest cell phones, PDAs, mp3 players, external hard drives, laptops, hand held game systems, and cameras are absolutely irresistible to me.
74. I love me some bling, bling!
75. I love going to the symphony, ballet, opera, and playhouse.
76. I love all types of music from opera to metal; country to jazz.
77. I type 80 words per minute with 97% accuracy.
78. The reason I know this is because I was so desperate to leave a job that sucked the life out of me I was willing to settle for less than half my salary at a recording job for the city. The application process included a typing test. I had to cancel my interview appointment because the job that sucked the life out of me sent me to Taiwan.
    
79. I have traveled to Canada, Taiwan, Mexico, Belize, and Honduras. I don’t feel like I’ve truly seen any of these places, except for Taiwan.
80. I get a professional pedicure every few months.
81. I am a graphic designer.
82. I am a web designer.
83. I pick at my nose a lot.
84. In a previous life, I went to media make-up artistry school and did makeup for print work, television shows that never aired (or only the pilot aired), and a movie that won several awards at film festivals including Sundance.
85. When I tell people this, they assume I also know how to do hair, but I don’t. I strictly know camera makeup.
86. My first job ever was for an MLM company. I was 14 when I started.
87. I have never left the MLM industry since. I love it. And most people I know who have ever worked at the corporate office of an MLM never end up leaving the industry.
88. I could never be an MLM distributor. I don’t have what it takes.
89. I could, however, be a party plan distributor, but I’m not.
90. I am the most talkative person I know.
91. I love to say things for the shock value. I get that from my Dad. I put my foot in my mouth quite often for this.
92. Sometimes I get embarrassed about my feelings and push loved ones away.
93. When I first meet someone I’m really shy. Once I feel comfortable around them, I overcompensate for that early shyness.
94. I’m a people watcher. When I watch people I’ve never met, I can see through them and feel like I know them after only a few minutes. I’ve done this since I was a baby.
95. Sometimes I still listen to Ace of Base.
96. My favorite colors are green and orange.
97. My husband says I use exorbitant amounts of toilet paper. It’s because what if the wad is too thin and my finger pokes through?
98. I only drink bottled water.
99. I didn’t graduate from college.
100. My friends and family call me either Kenna or Ken.

You Can Have It, Mom

You never realize how much you rely on technology until your mother board gets fried and you have to go an entire day without a computer. My eye has been twitching since 9:57am, which is the precise time I realized I was hosed after spending a full hour trying to turn my computer on.

Now on to more important matters. About 2-3 weeks ago, I called my mom to ask her the name of the CD she puts in every Christmas morning. It blares through the house to wake us up for present-opening time. The reason I asked is because I was collecting data for a post I was writing called The Top 10 Christmas Albums, which I would post the first week of December. And I told this to my mom on the phone.

Well last week, I was at her house and mentioned again my top ten list and SHE says, "Oh no! I was going to do that!" And I say, "No way, Mom. The post is MINE." And she says, "Okay, you can have it."

Well, Mom, I'm giving it back to you. You can have the Christmas Music post. But please make sure that George Winston's December CD is among your list. Thank you, that is all.

That, and make sure you go read it when she puts it up here.

I know this was a really lame post but it's post number 99, so you should know what's coming next. This is me hunkering down for the epic 100.

Not in the dark! Not in a tree! Not in a car! You let me be!

We were on our way home from California visiting my family for Thanksgiving, 14 of us packed into my Dad's Suburban with our dead Camry in tow. We dragged it home all the way from where it broke down in the middle of absolutely nowhere, a.k.a Barstow, CA. Just about an hour shy of home sweet home, right after realizing we were almost done having to sit on top of each other for lack of space, my cell phone rang. It was my sister in law: "Dad was just taken to the hospital for what we think is a minor stroke. He spent the day Christmas shopping, then came home to string the lights across the roof. After finishing, he came in and stood over the sink with a sudden, shooting headache. He sat down, and that's when Mom saw it, his drooping face. It looks like everything will be fine, but come to the hospital as soon as you can."

We pulled into the driveway of our tiny apartment after the longest hour of driving ever, chucked our bags in the door and sped to the hospital just in time to watch his life flight hover off the pad to take him to a different hospital better equipped to help him. So we hopped in the car with Steve's sister and her husband to meet him at the new hospital. We joked on the way there about how if Dad were awake, he'd be flying himself to the hospital. Sure, it's no KC-135, but he would have insisted anyhow.

We met up with the rest of the family and the doctor told us he was confused as to why Dad was life flighted. He had a brain stem aneurism, and it's likely he was helpless before the ambulance arrived at the house hours earlier.

No! No! No! No! No! It wasn't real, it wasn't really happening, not for real, yet still only a couple hours later we found ourselves holding each other as we stood around his bed to let him go. We let him go. He was gone. Yesterday he was on the phone listening to us complain about our broke-down car. And now he was gone. It was some foggy delirium of tears and swollen throats. And then we woke up one morning and it was real. It really did happen, for real, and now the world is one amazing man shy.

That was five years ago and we still feel it. We still miss him every single day.
His kind and gentle heart.
His friendly arms that welcomed anyone from any walk of life.
His fierce love for his grand children, for camping, for flying, for toy trains.
For movies and movie popcorn and mexican food.
For family.
For God.

But as much as we pine, there's something about someone passing away that makes their influence on us even more powerful than when they were here with us. Now his example and his memory are an almost tangible treasure.

And as if in honor of the anniversary of that indescribable day, Steve just today announced to me that he refuses to put up exterior Christmas lights. Ever. Not at this house, not at our next house, not in a box, not with a fox. Why? Because clearly it's not a good idea for Gordon men to put up Christmas lights. Just look what happens immediately afterwards.

Alive

Don't worry, I'm very much alive after a very crazy week. So is my sweet, beautiful nephew, Rayder Davis Ricks. Have you ever seen such a gorgeous day-old baby? Born November 21st.

Confession

I do love me a little Kenny G from time to time.

Announcing The Treading Water Giveaway Winner!

Thank you all so much for your great tips and advice. Some of them hit right home with me and I'm already trying them out. So it's kind of funny who won to me because, originally I was going to just put the number of entries into a bowl and draw one. That is, until I was introduced to a randomizing service by Summer. So I decided to use said randomizing service for this contest and guess who won?

Um, yeah, it was Summer. So congratulations Summer, that's what you call good karma! Send me an email at kennalyn1 at gmail dot com with your mailing address and also a clue as to what types of fragrances you normally like (fruity, floral, woodsy, musky, sporty, romantic, any adjectives will do) and I will custom design a fragrance for you and send you a Parfum Spray, Nourishing Body Lotion, and Refreshing Shower Gel. Wee! It's so fun.

Thanks again to all! This was so much fun I think I need to do more giveaways in the future. One per month is sounding great to me right now, but let's get get hasty, I'm a busy girl!

Monday's Grace

My great grand-parents, Grace ("Mamaw") and Gudgell ("Papaw") passed away in 2002. Later that year, my uncle started gathering excerpts from their journals to publish for the family. I never thought I'd be impacted so much by such a thing as someone else's journal, but I cherish this collection of notes and look to it often for inspiration. Their entries are normally very simple, and Mamaw calls Papaw "Dad" most the time...

"We didn't get up until 9am. I had the wild eye and couldn't get to sleep until after 2am"

"I think I have the flu. I greased myself with goosle gozzle salve, took a contact and went to bed."

"What would us girls do without Dad? Fly apart I guess."

And then scattered through their humbling simplicity, I find absolute treasures like this:

"To my husband: I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out. I love you for putting your hand onto my heaped up heart and passing over all the foolish weak things that you can't help but dimly see there. And for the drawing out into the light all the beautiful belongings that no one else had looked quite far enough to find. I love you because you are helping me to make of my life, not a tavern, but a temple. Out of the works of my every day, not a reproach but a song."

PS - tonight's the last night to enter my Treading Water custom bath + body giveaway. I'm closing comments at midnight Mountain Time and will announce the winner tomorrow!

Editing myself in this post for the sake of keeping this a family-friendly blog

I'm what you call maybe just a little bit paranoid about my son's health. He's been spoon feeding a couple meals per day for about two months, and has now added just about every baby vegetable to his repertoire. But I haven't given him one fruit yet because I don't want him to fall in love with sweets and refuse the vegetables. I was thinking of starting fruits soon, like maybe next week, but this is just one example of how I've chosen to be a little more conservative than some moms. He won't be having soda, candy, icecream, or even a lick of popsicle for quite some time. Like maybe two years old. It's been made quite clear to me by many people that I'm being a little weird about this, but I don't care because I'M THE MOM AND I SAID SO. (That is the first time I've said that in my life if you don't count sassing my mom.)

So we just 30 minutes ago walked in the door from some Friday night shopping and a visit to Red Lobster. We ran into Steve's old high school buddy and his parents. We happened to be sat a table away from them at dinner and three quarters through eating, Steve's old friend's mom came over to take another peek at Carter and asked if she could hold him. Well, of course, so she took him back to her table, which was in perfect eyesight of us. We were kind of chatting between the two tables, when all of a sudden Steve's old friend's dad decided it would be funny to fill a straw full of Coke and empty it into my son's mouth. He. Fed. My. Six. Month. Old. Coke. I instantly made it very clear to him that I wasn't effing laughing at his stupid trick. I was in such shock I couldn't even finish my food. I thought I was going to throw up right there on the table.

I was sure I had made myself abundantly clear to this man, so imagine my surprise when a few minutes later, he started coming at Carter with a straw full of Sprite! This time I yelled, "No. Do. Not." ...and so he backed off, but I swear I'm not making this up, he said to us in the most condescending tone, "What, it's just Sprite!"

Blah, blah, blah, fast forward to when we're finally standing up and walking out of that hell of an uncomfortable situation when he still thinks the mood is light enough to throw in a, "Hey anytime you need a babysitter, just give us a call. You just hand him over to me and don't worry about a thing. Next time I'll give him Budweiser, it has less caffeine."

For the love of everything holy on God's green earth, please validate my anger and tell me I'm not over-reacting about this!

Okay, actually I feel much better. I feel instantly diffused now that I've written a few words about it and am about to post it out into the void. Of course I realize in the grand scheme of things, this little amount of soda won't hurt my boy. But still, I'm just saying... that's just crazy, right?

PS - Once your blood pressure drops back down to normal after reading this horrific nightmare, you should go enter my Treading Water custom bath + body giveaway.

Thirteen Minutes...

That's how much battery life I have left before this laptop dies. The power cord is 30 stairs below me in the cold, dark basement and I'm already warm in bed. So I'll be brief.

Phone text conversation between my 9 months pregnant sister and I, earlier today:

Kenna: Aren't you like in labor yet?

Mel: I wish. Pedicures tonight?

Kenna: Yep. Pick you up at 6. Do you think they'll mind that I haven't shaved in over a week?

Mel: Nah. I have a rash all over my legs. I win.

Kenna: They can't handle us sexy legged sisters.

Mel: Over a week? Really?

Kenna: I only have time to shave one leg per day and I'm several days behind because I've been putting on mascara lately. Something's gotta give, ya know?

PS - Have you entered my Treading Water custom bath + body giveaway yet?

How to Annoy Me

Tell me I can't have new episodes of my fave shows for the next few weeks because YOU don't think you get paid enough money. Well, I suppose I understand... I suppose. But I'm just saying. We're talking about a possible permanent shift to full-on reality tv, every night of the week. I don't think I can take it.

Here are a couple of delightful nuggets to help get us through the strike:

Dwight Schrute: "Agri-tourism is a lot more than a bed-and-breakfast. It consists of tourists coming to a farm, showing them around, giving them a bed, and giving them breakfast."

Barney Stinson: "Question one: Ted, do you want to move in with Robin?...Wrong! The correct answer is: No, I want to stay single and have fun with my awesome friend Barney. Question two: Robin, do you think you can find someone who's hotter than Ted? [pause] Correct! The correct answer is awkward silence.

Michael Scott: "Alright let me ask you this, tell me if you think this is creative. When I was five, I imagined that there was such a thing as a unicorn. And this was before I had even heard of one, or seen one. I just drew a picture, of a horse, that could fly over rainbows, and a had a huge spike in its head. I was five! Five-years-old. Couldn't even talk yet."

PS - Have you entered my Treading Water custom bath + body giveaway yet?

Treading Water Giveaway!

My son is now six months old. Now that the newness of parenthood is wearing off, and I'm starting to notice that a little bit of laundry should probably be done in lieu of 24/7 goo-goo-ga-ga play time, I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. I am lucky to be blessed with two moms' examples to aspire toward, and lately I'm wondering how on earth they ever got it all done when we were growing up. Working full time, momming full time, fridge somehow always stocked with food, kids clean, house clean, and through it all I still have a lot of great memories spending time with my moms, and I remember seeing them relax every now and again too. Just yesterday I asked one of my moms how on earth she did it all and she said, "looking back, I have no idea how I did it all either!"

So I'm looking for ways to stay afloat. I'm buying an extra freezer for the garage this week, and plan to make a month's worth of meals for us to draw from using What's For Dinner? I met the author this past weekend at the Utah Women's Show, where I was a fellow exhibitor.

To stay on top of laundry, I'm trying to put one load -------- we interrupt the most boring post ever written for an emergency injection of participatory fun --------

Okay, give me your very best tip for saving time and/or money when it comes to anything in the domestic arena. I'll do a drawing one week from today and send the winner a bath and body gift set with a custom, one-of-a-kind fragrance that's to die for. If you're allergic to lotion or anything fragranced, that's okay! I've had a ton of allergic people tell me this particular product is the only scented thing they can wear. Totally safe for babies too! The rules are you have to leave an honest to goodness TIP, not just any comment.

Send this post to everyone you know who has or reads blogs. I want as many entries as possible... I need all the help I can get!!

Midnight Dumpster Run Confession

We live on a fairly new street that isn't finished being built. About 3 lots down is where the construction is still going on. Our estimations say 4 more houses on this street and we'll be dust free forever. I suppose the upside of it all is free access to three REALLY HUGE dumpsters labeled, "For private use only, violators will be fined $500," which is why we have to wait until after dark to dump our never ending loads of crap in them. Last night's dump (courtesy of our newly organized garage) felt a little heisty, because we kept having to drive around the block to wait for a construction worker to leave. Seriously? 9pm and you're still working, Construction Man? Why is it that any construction worker I have dealt with can't seem to show up on time or stay as long as he promised... and this one insists on working late into the evening?

"Hey Hon, What Should I Blog About Right Now?"

Steve: "Do a survey on when it's appropriate to put up your Christmas crap... because it's not now."

Okay, then, following are my arguments, and feel free to weigh in with your own.

Back in the day when most everyone bought real trees, they had to wait until mid-December to put them up, or they'd be a dried up mess by the time Christmas came around. Now that there are great looking, affordable fakies available for everyone, we aren't forced to wait. We can put them up as early as we want.

On the other hand, part of me feels a little grinchy about Christmas, and because people have come to expect my opinionated grumpiness and sarcasm, part of me wants people to think I don't care about the decorations. I don't want to be one of those people.

On the other hand, I really do care. I love it all, the lights, the ornaments, the packages and bows, the homemade candy (the one I can't wait for this year is the rice crispy caramels with the marshmallow in the middle made by Teresa), the music, ohhh the music! Let's get out the tree right now!

On the other hand, Christmas is about celebrating and honoring Christ's birth. It's about giving and re-committing, etc., and decorating with flashing lights, especially early, shifts the focus to commercialism.

On the other hand, is it really worth it to go through the four hour ordeal of hauling out all the glitter and stringing the lights and hanging the stockings with care, only to have to un-do the four hour ordeal two weeks later? If I'm going to spend the time, I want to enjoy it for at least a month.

On the other hand, bah humbug!

And there you have it. I'm a six-handed grinch!

Some say the day after Thanksgiving. Some eager folks say November 1st. I heard the first Christmas commercial on the radio weeks ago. So what's your take? When is it appropriate and why?

And Now For Something Totally Different...

...Costume pictures on Halloween!

Ladies and gentlemen, behold my husband, the Ursula:



And our little lobster:


And just for the sake of normalcy, since the above of my husband is so disturbing, Here is the every day Steve. See how normal? See how not I-am-woman-hear-me-roar he is?

The Night Before....

I used to sing this song all the time when I was little.
It just popped into my head so I started singing it and realized it doesn't even rhyme:

What are you going to be on Halloween night,
A witch or a goblin or a ghoul?
What are you going to be, well don't tell me,
Wait 'til Halloween and let me guess.

Well, whether it rhymes or not, do you want to play?

Answer this then:

What is Steve going to be for Halloween?

(kind of) Hint: Carter is going to be a lobster and I am going to be a ... well, my mother in law made me feel much better about not dressing up by saying I'm going as a.... Muggle.



p.s. Don't read everyone else's comments before guessing!!!

Now With Extra Dipping Sauce

Instead of clean my house to prevent a panic attack, I chose to overhaul the blogaroo. I'm pretty sure I just broke one of the cardinal rules of blogging by calling this a blogaroo, but wtf.

I was way behind on posting my monthly masthead (August). Now I'm not even going to try to keep up a monthly masthead. This is what you get until I'm dead sick of it. This sappy little ball of sunshine masthead and accompanying design.

Also featuring a link to my family updates. Mainly pictures and videos of Carter, for family and friends to keep up with the personal stuff. I decided to make that part private, so if by your definition you're my family or my friend, send me an email at kennalyn1 at gmail dot com and I'll send you an invitation with password for the family section of this website. (Yes I just called the blogaroo a website. Dooce refers to her blog as a website, so...)

Alright, well there you have it. Oh! If you want to be part of my blogroll, send me a cute button to use, please. Because my blogroll must be cute. kthxbye.

P.S. - Summer, I'm totally copying you with the signature pic. Please be flattered :)

The Calm Before the Storm

Ever since I was little I've had panic attacks. I didn't know they were panic attacks until a few years ago when I read From Panic to Power and realized, "oh thaaaat's what those were!" I'm still exploring myself and don't have it quite all figured out. I can only sometimes figure out the source of the attacks and even then, that source is "it's just a panic attack, that's what they do: attack".

Growing up I always had a really messy room and a pretty disorganized life. But it always bothered me. It wasn't because I'm messy by nature, it was because I had so many hobbies with so much accompanying STUFF and when there wasn't a place for every little thing, my brain couldn't handle it, so it would just flip a switch and poof! I could completely block out the mess until it got so bad I literally couldn't see a patch of carpet or close my bedroom door. And then I'd Tasmanian Devil my way through the mess for four hours until it was perfectly clean.

Luckily when I got married, I was able to quickly implement some better habits to keep things running smoothly. Er, Running. Today I don't have a perfectly clean house, but I obsess over having a perfectly clean house. What I am is a crazy perfectionist with no time. When I think of the word "laundry", I see all my sweaters folded by color on top of each other, perfectly aligned so that not one thread hangs too far outside the width of the rest of the stack. Socks that smell like dryer sheets, not one shred of lint stuck to them and rolled into meticulous rows in my dresser drawer. I've come to realize if I can't have all that right now, in this installment of the ever-revolving laundry project, my brain will start leaking out my ears. So as a preservation method, my brain blocks "laundry" out of my realm of existence for the night. I sincerely forget that laundry exists on my planet. My brain is preventing a panic attack that would occur if I try and fail to have the perfect closet tonight.

Well, why can't I just go all Bree Van de Kamp-Hyde on the place and make it perfectly clean 24/7? I really hope I figure this one out before I die. Ha!

So the last two days I've felt a strange itch under my skin, and I know what it is. For perhaps the first time in my life, I can tell that within a few days, or maybe a week, I'm going to have a grand maul panic attack. I just can't do it all. Work full time. Be a mommy full time. Be a wife full time. Keep the house clean. Cook dinner every single fricken night so we don't die of fastfooditis.

Right now? Right now I'm not even stressed about it. Tonight I'm cool. I'm going to go switch the wash and then empty the dishwasher. I'm may not be making a dent in the big projects I need to do, but I'm keeping the day-to-day at bay. But within several days I'll put my tenth finger in the dam. And then the water will poke an eleventh hole. And then it will happen.

So because this is the first time I've felt one coming on, let's see how this goes. If I can feel this gurgling beneath the surface, does that mean I can prevent it? Can I just hurry and clean out the storage room, move the office downstairs to the new basement, wash every window, get the dead plants off the front porch, et. al. and then sit... and wait... and see if it never comes?

*Seven Days*

You have seven days until Halloween. That's seven days left to prepare yourselves. Hopefully this will help.

Carpet Standoff

Just about the only item left on the list for finishing our basement is installing carpet down the stairs and through the hallway. The rest of the basement is hard floor. Yesterday we were looking at carpet options and a brilliant thought came into my mind. Since we're carpeting anyway, we may as well replace the bottom-of-the-line, poorly installed, {pretty sure} not-padded, "stain attractant resistant" carpet in the living room of the main floor. It's a small enough area and wouldn't add much cost, all things considered.

Steve of course is not a fan of the idea. Afterall, we just moved in 10.5 months ago and are the first to live in this house. I get it, I get it. Of course, it's silly right? OH, but look again:

Exhibit A: Just tonight I used a yard stick to knock a toy out from under the couch, and when I upset the carpet under the couch, a small cloud of dust erupted in front of my face. Yes, you read that correctly. Completely disgusting. So I immediately asked Steve to hold the couch up so I could vacuum every square inch underneath "at least five times, so bring your A-Game." I then spent over 20 minutes vacuuming one room. I stayed in one stationery spot, pushing the vacuum forward and back six times, then moved one vacuum width to the left, and so on. Even after all that, I can't get the carpet to fluff back up. It's all nappy and matted down.

Exhibit B: We moved into this brand new house 3 days after last Christmas, but before that, it sat empty, collecting dust for seven months. Must be how the dust cloud formed, and only vacuuming once before moving in and putting the couch over that spot just wasn't enough. Apparently. What else could be hiding between those cheap, baron threads?

Exhibit C (featuring Comic Sans, just for Meisha): Too bad this photo can't quite show you how dark this stain is. It was cleaned up less than one minute after happening, but that stain attractant just held on toooo tightly.

Exhibit D: The carpet installers sucked at their job. Every time I crossover from the living room to the kitchen, I play a little game called Don't Step On The Crack Or You'll Cut Your Foot.
And.... Carter's already old enough to shove his head into the corner of the couch to have a nap when he gets tired of playing.
This means we're WEEKS away from crawling, sports fans. Don't Crawl On The Crack Or You'll Slice Your Knees Open And Blood Will Gush Everywhere And Your Mom Will Completely. Freak. Out.

All I'm saying is, it's just a small amount of carpet... just a small living room and an eensie hallway. And I don't think it will look bad from the standpoint of the entry way if the crappy carpet going up the stairs doesn't perfectly match the upgraded carpet heading off to the living room...DO YOU???

Officially Relieved

It's hard to believe that six months have come and gone since our son was born. For most parents, the sixth month means sitting up, giggles, and the first little buddings of teeth. For us it means all that, but it also means permanence. Yesterday we had a very special day. We went to court to finalize our adoption and make everything official. A lot of adoptive families make a big deal of this day, inviting friends and family to court with them, a celebration afterwards. We didn't feel the need for all that, not because it isn't special, it absolutely is, but because it hasn't felt not-official up to this time...

It felt 100% official the second we walked into the hospital room the day he was born, nervous as can be, not knowing what on earth to say to this courageous woman asking to meet us to see if we were the right people to raise her precious son. How do you prepare yourself for a moment like that? How can you know the right things to say or the appropriate disposition to portray when meeting your future son's birth mother? Well you simply can't prepare. You just have to fill your pounding heart with courage and walk in the room. And if you're me, you can feel your pulse pounding through your fingertips and vibrating every strand of hair... until you see her face, smiling to welcome you into her hospital room. And then peace and understanding wash through you the moment your eyes meet. Yes, it felt 100% official the moment I met my son and his birth mother.

So we kept yesterday simple, because if court finalization means a huge, "ta-da! now it's official!" then what have the last six months meant? My mom came, and I'm glad she did because it was good to have some family there and our trial was timed perfectly in the middle of Carter's normal nap time. And yes, it was a trial. With evidence, witnesses called to the stand, and everything. And it all went smoothly, as we knew it would. If there was any problem, we would have known far beforehand. The judge kept things light, even asking me while under oath if I understood that my parental responsibilities would still be in place even when Carter becomes a misbehaving teenager.

After it was all done, we stepped into the elevator just outside the courtroom. I paused as I felt an unexpected feeling of relief seep through me. I hadn't worried about this day. I never once during the last six months thought about something going wrong with our adoption. I didn't realize I had anything to be relieved of. But perhaps even if I wasn't worried one bit, there is something to be felt about knowing things are official. Bona fide. Permanent.

Sneezing Is So Funny!

He thinks it is soooo funny when people sneeze or cough. Unfortunately I didn't get the camera out until he had been laughing for quite a while, so by the time I started recording, he was thinking this joke is a little OLD. The big long sing-song screech after the 2nd sneeze is his new favorite noise to make.

On My Way To The Office Today

The Name Game

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: Cocoa 3
(first pet & current car)

2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: Chocolate Mint Milano
(fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie):

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: M-Gor
(first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name)

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: Green Werewolf
(favorite color, favorite animal) 5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME:Lyn Orem
(middle name, city where you were born)

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: Gormc
(the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)

7. SUPERHERO NAME: The Orange Fresca
("The" + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink)

8. NASCAR NAME: Lucy Lyn. Ha!
(the first names of your grandmothers)

9. STRIPPER NAME: Heavenly Bit-o-honey
(the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy)

10. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME:WL Alan Terry
(mother’s & father’s middle names)

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: Bezzant Boston
(Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter)

12. SPY NAME: Autumn Hydrangea
(your favorite season/holiday, flower)

13. CARTOON NAME: Strawberry Smocky
(favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”)

14. HIPPY NAME: Peaches Palm
(What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree)

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME:The Inventing Raindrop Tour
(”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”)

Basement Progress

We've been working on finishing our little basement for months and it's finally starting to come together. We still have some finishing touches, but here is a preview, and I need your advice on a coupla things.

Behold, the enormous wetbar. I don't know why I couldn't picture its massiveness during the design phase. I was picturing this cute little nook and, well...shabang! But it's growing on me, the size is okay for the room its in and I think it'll be great now that we're starting to move furniture down there.

Still need kick plates under the cabinets and something on the wall. The flooring is stained cement and we're in love with it. Two questions:

1. What on the wall?
2. That faucet is a little "HELLO!" for a basement wet bar, right? Thinking of swapping it for our smaller kitchen faucet. Thoughts?

Really excited about these window treatments I found at Ikea. What you see before you is a set of six metal tracks with which to slide these panels of fabric...
The quaking aspens and the dark brown were pre-made from Ikea, the 3 privacy-creating camel panels behind them I sewed today. Because each panel is on its own track, all six pieces can be pulled to one side of the window to let in a lot of light.

Need advice: do these windows (there are two in this room with the same quaky treatments) need something above them? Like trim? These are one piece of nature in an otherwise very industrial looking family room.

The paint has more gray in it than the picture shows, but see my creativeness? Same shade of paint in two finishes: eggshell and high-gloss.

And now for the FRIDGE OF DEATH, brought to you by my entertaining husband. If Martha Stewart were a manly-man, her name would be Steve. When the guys come over for football night, he is quite the host. This is all just for tonight. I'm scared.

****All the above pictures were taken this afternoon about two hours before Steve's football-watching, X-Boxing buddies arrived. The deal is, they can stink up the basement for as long as they want, and I get a quiet, peaceful time with my friend Natasha upstairs. We chatted and created a sewing pattern tonight. She left hours ago and I've been catching up on the blogosphere ever since. Just now I thought I'd brave it and see how bad it is down there. Here are my findings:

Brand New Family Room View 1:
(3 TVs, 3 x-boxes, 3 players)

Brand New Family Room View 2:
(2 TVs, 2 x-boxes, 4 players)

And this is after a few have gone home.
And it smells like an enormous fart down there.
And the FRIDGE OF DEATH is now 1/2 empty.
And church starts at 9am.
It's 1am now.
Can I have some sympathy?