marmite breath slept here

I've moved!

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Hope to see you there!

I saw the start of a daffodil poking through in the front flower beds on Friday.  This led me to believe that Spring was on the way, and it cheered me up so much that I roused myself enough to take down the balloons and streamers from Tom's birthday (which was a month ago).  The winter funk seems to be getting better.  Or was, I say, because then this weekend it snowed again.  It looked so beautiful the first night, all fresh and un-walked on.  And then the next morning after the snow ploughs had been up and down the road, there was slush and mud and grossness.  And then funk.   I took this picture of a barn near us.  Aaron said it looks like the kind of place that people go to die.  I had to laugh, because it's true.

A silver lining on the yuckiness of the winter weather?  Sledding.  Here is a video of Tom and Aaron on the sled with Hadleigh following them (and then falling off her sled).  It's quite amusing.  I do love the snow when we can go sledding and be outside without the wind chill making us feel as if we're being sliced in half.  We got home and ate chili and felt warm and happy again.

I haven't baked anything in two weeks!  Well, potatoes, but they don't count, do they? Well, actually, I did bake two cakes for Hadleigh's Valentine party at school.  I baked this first one for the class to share

but then it snowed and they cancelled school and they didn't go back for a week so we had to eat that (uh, waste is bad).  Then I made this one,

 and Had said it went over very well.   There was none brought home, and my hips thanked God for that.  Mum bought me a lovely present when she came up.......mini loaf pans.  I have been dying to use them, but I am waiting until I feel like I can make the recipe without eating all the loaves.  It's hard--this addiction :)

  I've been throwing myself into the sewing and throwing myself into the planning of this trip that we seem to be taking.  Hadleigh keeps trying to pin me down and get me to tell her EXACTLY what we will be doing on EXACTLY every day of the time we're at home, and I keep telling her, "I DON'T KNOW! DON'T PRESSURE ME!"

Here are a couple of things that I have worked on.  I'm experimenting with different fabrics (rayon, I hate you) and trying to be patient and not throw my overlocker across the room when I make a mistake.  I need to not expect perfection from myself and I really am enjoying making things. 

Matching flannel jammie bottoms for my boys.  Tom thought this was really cool because he wants to be a mini-me of his Dad.

I found this great stretchy fabric for ONE DOLLAR A YARD and realized it was the same fabric that all my exercise gear is made from.  I made this great yoga/exercise/falling-off-the-treadmill pants for a FLIPPING DOLLAR!  I am thrifty AND cool.  Sorry, had to brag.  I love them.  Comfy and practical.  Yeah, I know I'm supposed to be breaking out of the comfy and practical box.  Bite me.  Also, note the kicky pose.  It is me being feisty!

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So today we had a hair trauma.  Tom has been being mistaken for a girl lately.  It hasn't seemed to bother him much--it's usually old people who say, "Ooh, you're going to be a busy little girl with all those books" or "Aren't you a cute little girl" and he looks at them levelly and says very matter-of-factly, "Actually, I'm a boy".  But yesterday while I was cutting Aaron's hair (under duress, people, completely under freaking duress, I cannot cut hair.  Just ask Antonella in Naples--she begged me never to pick up scissors again) Tom wanted me to cut his.

Uh, no, I didn't.  Don't even ask. 

But this morning as soon as he woke up, he was asking if I would cut it.  No.  Not going to happen, dude.  If you want it cut, I'll take you somewhere, I said. 

"I don't want it short, Mom, just a little off the ends so people will stop calling me a girl" and I said, "Fair enough, we'll go this afternoon."

So we went to one of the local barbers, and damn, I shouldn't have let this woman near my precious little boy.  I'm not trying to be mean, but um, her hair was not inspiring confidence in me.  But it was too late, he was in the chair.  I was all ready to document his first haircut in over a year.

"We want it to still be long, just not quite so long," we say, "Not short, please"

And she smiles and says, "Okie dokie, I'll just tidy it up around the face too, get it out of his eyes a little bit.  And then I turned around to talk to Had.  And when I turned back around, I saw this.

It really is amazing that I was able to take this picture because my hands flew up to my mouth in absolute horror. 

I swear, when I was taking this picture, I was saying out loud, "Oh my Goodness, it's so different!" and on the inside I was shouting, "GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! What the Fuck have you done to my child? AAAARGH!!  FUUUUUUCK!!!  He looks like Emo Fucking Phillips!!  I hate you!!  Give me the scissors so I can show you what I think of your hair butchery, you charlatan! Oh my fuck.  I'm going to screaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmm"

Even Emo Phillips is all, "Fuck! What have you done, woman?"

And again, I was like, "Wow.  That is certainly different" and I nodded my head thoughtfully, as if I was just thinking to myself, "My, what a fine job she is doing" and Hadleigh and I exchange glances like, "Oh sheee-yit, it is totally ON when Dad sees this."

So then I had to pay her for it.  And she was all thrilled because his hair was not long in the front, and she destroyed the back, but the sides?  Oh, they were left long.  Because otherwise she would not have been able to say that she had done the WACKEST HAIRCUT EVER!!! 

I tried not to cry in the van.  And then I said, "Tom.  That lady needs to be in jail--let's go and let a different lady fix your hair for you, babe" and Hadleigh said, "Yeah, it looks sort of, well, I don't know how to say this Tom, but you look, well, girly.  And bad"

So we drove around on a begging spree.  "Can you fix this?"  "We have to wait an hour?  Hells no!  My boy is not going to walk ONE MORE INCH OF THIS GODFORSAKEN STATE WITH THIS HAIR!!

Finally, after dinner we found a place and the girl very kindly said, "Um.  It's sort of jacked up in the back.  And the sides" and I was all, "Oh, ya think?????  CAN YOU FIX IT PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY BECAUSE MY SON WILL BE LAUGHED AT BY THE LADIES AND THAT CANNOT HAPPEN!"

So she fixed it.  Sort of.  It's short.  We're grieving. Well, I am, anyway.  He's very calm about it. 

And luckily, he still has a gorgeous face.  His hair isn't terrible now, but we could NOT have lived with the first one.  I cried a bit (not in front of him, I didn't want to make him feel bad).  Also, during all this, I was trying frantically to call Aaron for moral support and also to tell him that I totally went against his wishes and am getting Tom's hair cut but now it's botched and OH MY GOD, HE'S GOING TO BE SO MAD AT ME, IT'S BAD ENOUGH THAT HE FOUND OUT I HAVE BEEN SNEAKING TO WAL MART TO BUY FABRIC WHEN IT IS A WELL KNOWN FACT THAT I AM SUPPOSED TO BE BOYCOTTING WAL MART"

So when I finally get in touch with him (immediately after the hellish haircut) and confess that I have taken Tom ostensibly for a trim but now will probably have to have short hair, he says, "Well, babe, the guys have all been laughing at my hair all day," and I was all, "WHAT??" and he said, "Yeah, they said it looked like I had my hair cut around a bowl" and that was it.  I burst into tears.

"Don't worry babe, don't cry, I told them I cut my own hair" says my lovely man.  "But I'm going to get it fixed tonight."

So now I have to live with the fact that my poor husband was ridiculed because of the haircut I gave him (I usually refuse because we just fight about how much I hate cutting it because I am rubbish at it so I hope you've learned your lesson, jackass, I mean, babe) and my boy had two haircuts in one day after not having one since his fourth birthday. 

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Just in case you think that my wintry, hormonal world is not happy, please, please, please go and watch this video.  I was on the treadmill at the gym, and when I saw this, I literally starting laughing REALLY LOUDLY.  I love it.   I love this man even when he is batshit crazy.  Carly, you'll like it.

Also, (and I really AM signing off after I say this) I got the shock of my life this weekend.  Dwight Schrute (yes, this is a link to another YouTube skit, but I had to include it because it makes me howl) is TOTALLY DAMN CUTE in real life. 

I had no idea he was so cute until I saw him host SNL this weekend.  This skit was pretty funny too.   God Bless YouTube.

It could be worse, I suppose.  I could be Britney.  Bald Britney!  OMG!  It's even eclipsing the Anna Nicole coverage!

Fresh start tomorrow.  Got to love Mondays in that respect, right?  Back to the gym EVERY DAY!  Check up on me!  None of this three times a week crap.  I have no excuse.  It's free.  There's a playground indoors.  I can get a free trainer.  No excuses.  Every day, beeyatch!

We talked this morning about a trip.  We were going to do Chicago again now that the kids are old enough to enjoy it, but we've settled on ::drumroll:: England, of course.  If we're going to spend tax money on anything, it's going to be that.  So hopefully it will all work out.  Now we're just trying to plan a little getaway for us before we get to Leicester.  We're thinking either Cornwall or Derbyshire.  Obviously we'd like to go to Gloucester and visit Tobes again, so Tobes, if you're up for taking us around Stroud, let me know.  The kids wanted to go back to London (we took them in 2004, click on the link for pictures), but I'd like them to see a different bit of England.  Plane tickets are still stupidly high but not as bad as last year.  I've got butterflies, I'm so excited.

This should all be happening in early May.  We spent the morning with our noses in guide books like tourists.  It was lovely.  Tom likes the idea of going to Stonehenge.  Hadleigh likes the idea of shopping and going to the beach.  So maybe the South and the Southwest is where we should be.  I loved Devon and Cornwall when I was there and I have happy memories of school trips to Derbyshire.  We're still deciding.  I love the planning of it because I feel something to look forward to--no snow and feeling of blah-ness.  I love travelling.  It is my favourite and my best. (tm Lola from Charlie and Lola).

::sigh of contentment::

Don't even get me started on how brilliant it will be to see all the family and friends again.  Last time I went home I went alone, and the mood was sad because Grandad was dying.  This time I hope there will be a lot of talking, drinking, laughing, and of course, holiday-blogging!!!!!!!!

Oh, and check out the pajama bottoms I've been making!  I'm unstoppable!  And a dork!!

PS) The food!  OMG!  The food!  The sweets!  The baked goods!  The fish and chips!

I want to be a Milf.  I promise, I do.  But something is holding me back.  Laziness?  Inability to focus?  I ate terribly today, and I haven't exercised all week. 

I weighed 123 this morning.  Ugh.  Rhubarb cake last week, valentine cake this week.  NO BAKED GOODS, NAT!

Back to the grind tomorrow.  When the hell will I realize that the only way to do this is to STAY AT THE GODDAMNED GYM?!  Also, basically not eat so much white flour. 

Nanoo Nanoo. 

Back to regular blogging when I get my mojo back, y'all.  Major snow depression setting in. 

Also, I am in deep thought about my adult friendships and how they differ from the friendships in my younger years.  It's definitely giving me a lot to think about.  Perhaps I'll blog about that, and how perhaps it's a combination of (a) always feeling on the outside, and (b) being a military wife and moving a lot that my friendships have been different.  I dunno.  I will think about it some more and then post. 

I sense that this blog is becoming less interesting for the general public and more of a way to just get down how I'm feeling, and it's better and less time consuming than going to a shrink.  I don't feel funny lately. 

Yeah, Dad, I'm sure I still look funny.

Well, I am alive, but only just.

I've had the cold from hell--it just seemed to drain the life out of me.  Luckily, today I started to feel better, but I'm still not 100%.  It's times like this when I hate living away from family--I'd love somebody to look after me and bring me soup.  There is something so pathetic about being alone and asking your kids to make you some cornflakes.  They've been great about it and basically occupied themselves while I passed out on the sofa for extended naps and small crying sessions about my head hurting.  Plus, yesterday I took them both for injections, so we were all miserable for the day.  Not fun.

But the good news is that Mum was up for the weekend and we had a really great time.  She taught Hadleigh to knit (and gave me a refresher course) and showed me how to make pyjama bottoms for the kids.  We really enjoyed ourselves, and believe me, I know how nerdy that sounds.  I miss her.  I loved having her all to myself to do nerdy crafts, and she went to lunch with Hadleigh at school and took Tom out to buy him a birthday present and basically just spent time with all of us doing stuff.  Loved it. 

My friend Kristi's Mum died this week and the memorial service was today.  She'd had Alzheimer's for a long time and I know Kristi feels a sense of relief that her fun, vibrant Mum doesn't have to deal with it anymore.  I wish I could be there for her.   But I'm here feeling useless.

I don't know why I thought I could blog today.  I am in a funk.  Screw it.

I went out last night, which, honestly, I never do.  Sarah was back in town for the weekend to see her friend Jennifer who is home from Australia, and she invited me out for a drink with them.  I had to swallow the fear of being the smug married (Magda) to their Bridget and Shazzer/Jude combo.  We went to a place called Nomad in downtown Omaha.  It was a cool place and with good desserts and good wine.  I tried a new wine (hello! new me! trying new things!) and loved talking to Sarah about anything and everything.   Nobody hit on me, but a Michael Buble lookalike hit on Jennifer.  Sarah and I had a good laugh at his tie. 

She had a packet of Caramel Digestives in her bag, which, if you know me at all, you know that it made me love her even more.   I didn't feel as useless as I thought I would.  I practiced shaking hands with people and saying things like, "Hello! I'm Nat.  No, I'm not college educated" or "Hi there! I'm Nat.  No, I don't give a shit about tax law" or something similar.  In the end it turned out that I was quite adept at holding a conversation with other grown ups--as long as it was about Lily Allen or something similar.  I only had one drink as I was driving, but I overdid it with the chocolate plate.  The Milf project is failing miserably, but I am really not bothered at the minute.  Breathing while wearing my jeans is overrated.

I came home late last night to find that Aaron had let the kids sleep in their "den" that they had built from cushions, fake house plants and blankets.  There was also unexplainable stuff.  I thought it was so sweet that they were snuggle up together--I had to sit for a minute and just bask in their adorableness.  I chalked it up to the wine--yeah, one glass, Meredith Viera.  Kiss my ass.  I was still on duty.  I'm a FULL TIME MOM!  I still can't get over this shit.  Between this whole thing and this article, I have spent the past two weeks on red alert against the "sanctimommy" groups.  Sorry, Had and Tom, I'm controlling.  I'm probably making you gay.  And drunk.

God, I love The Pet Shop Boys.  Love them.  Sorry, I'm on the way to being absolutely sozzled at the minute and I usually listen to stuff that makes me happy when I'm drunk.  (Not that I listen to stuff that makes me sad when I'm sober--I mean, I like stuff that transports me when I'm drunk.  Transports me somewhere lovely).  Martika's Toy Soldiers--OMG! I am such a loser.  Next I will probably be listening to Tiffany.  Ooooh, Tiffany!!!  Debbie Gibson!  I am listening to Embrace now.  Laughing and singing and smiling while writing = Big Fat Loser.

I am going to start writing in a scattered way now.  Get ready. 

(All readers run out of Blogland).

I love The Sarah Silverman Program.   Aaron didn't laugh nearly as hard as I did.  I watched it twice.  I think I love her.  No, I don't think.  I do.  Watching Jesus is Magic this summer made me a fan--this program is so damn ridiculous, I have to stay on the bandwagon.

The kids and I just love The Naked Brothers Band.   The kids love this and we have been singing along to all the songs.  Bravo to Nickelodeon for putting this really cute program on.  I love seeing my kids belly laugh and I love watching things with them that are just so so cute yet not saccherine.  I should look up the spelling of saccherine, but I don't care.  Wine makes me not give a shit.  Hadleigh has a crush on Nat (the lead singer).  Tom channels Alex (the littlest brother).  We love all the little video clips. This one makes Hadleigh hide her face in the couch cushions.  She blushes.  I laugh.

Watching Tom be a rock star.  Please.  Try to resist this kid.  You can't.  Using an upside down horse for a microphone/slash/guitar is genius.  Also, the Mick Jagger moves?  All his own.  Dang. 

(Okay, I was going to link to a very amazing video of Tom being a rock star but I can't get YouTube to cooperate and quite frankly, it is all I can do to try and spell things properly and not put on a concert of my own in my dressing gown and slippers in my living room, so that will just have to wait!!!)

We're all about the movie Little Manhattan.  Carly, I keep meaning to tell you to watch this with Donavan.  We loved it so much that we ended up buying it.  Lovely movie for kids and parents.  Love it.  So sweet.  The kids love Josh Hutcherson.

Watching Scrubs and The Office with my husband.  Drinking wine together.  Other stuff.  I love you, you stressed out cranky bastard.

Deanna's entire tupperware of biscotti.  This should actually be listed under Things That I Wish I Had Not Eaten The Entire Thing Of, But Shit, They Had Pine Nuts In them.

The song "Today's the Day" by Aimee Mann.  I can't even explain.  Please buy it and listen to it.  Try to resist the chills.

We went to The Amazing Pizza Machine with The Mother in Law when she came up.  She paid for Tom to go for his birthday.  They had a great time and I think Tom will always remember his Granny taking him there.  They were so cute.  Even though Hadleigh was determined not to enjoy herself, she couldn't help it.

Tomorrow is Monday.  Do you ever feel like the weeks just merge together and they're all just one big time blob?  Because that's how I feel sometimes.  And I say I should go to bed early so that I don't want to cry at 6:45 in the morning, but here I am.  I'm off to bed.   No reading.  Just sleep.  Gah.

Blogland exhausts me.  I should comment.  I should read.  I do read.  I just have a lot to say and don't feel like I have a lot of time to say it.  Why am I not in drama school again?  I am feeling very DRAMATIC AT THE MINUTE!  (Attention! Wine talking!)

Goodnight everybody.  I might delete this tomorrow.

You started out like this, Tom

Naval Hospital, Pozzuoli, Italy, 2002

And in the space of one year, you had grown to look like this and used baby sign language to say "More boob" or "more cake" (whichever!).

And then you were two, and ate blue cake while you shouted, "To affinity and a blonde!"

And when you were three, you were as three as you could be.  The robot madness was beginning.

Four brought Transformers and Robots and Blocks.  Four is what you were all the way up until I woke you up last night at midnight. You opened your eyes and said "Hey". 

 "Happy Birthday Tom," I said.  And then I went to bed too.

Five.  Today.  Woah.  Stop growing so fast. 

This morning, we kept the ritual alive (yes, Aaron, I should stop fobbing my own childhood traditions off on the kids, but they like it).  We got up and immediately opened all the cards and presents.  Is there anything more lovely than sitting in bed, opening cards and finding money and lovely wishes from people?  And waiting for the postman?  And opening presents? And having tea and waffles?    I love seeing their faces--Hadleigh reading the cards out to Tom and trying to tell him what to spend his money on.  I love seeing them get excited when they figure out how much the English money is worth. 

Tom spent a lot of the day on the phone--although speaking to him while he is building with Lego is like pulling teeth, as Dad says.  He had a great party with all his buddies, and afterwards he took my face in his hands and said, "Thanks for preparing that" and I melted and died right there.

It made up for the fact that I came downstairs this morning and thought that a Betsey Johnson-inspired mouse had died on my floor.  Look.  What would you think??

It was some sort of whorish clothing for one of Hadleigh's My Scene dolls.  But I did scream. 

And then an hour later, I had to scream for the old man across the street to come and help me get rid of another mouse.  It was on the trap, and I was about to dry heave everywhere and have a complete and total nervous breakdown.

"Mom, calm down" said Tom.  "It's just a mouse, and it scares me when you scream"

The lovely neighbour man didn't understand my complete and utter TERROR and tried to get me to hold open a carrier bag so that he could drop the mouse into it.  I think he began to get an inkling when I screamed, ran into the bathroom and yelled, "I want you to do it!  I called you over here because I caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan't deal with thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!!"

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So. Now the party is over, my kids are sleeping happily, the dog is whimpering in his sleep while he lays next to me on the couch.  Aaron is in Lincoln for the night.  He has an exam in the morning.  I have a Mother in Law coming to visit at the end of the week and then a Mum coming to visit the week after.   Life is plodding on, as Grandad Tom used to say.  I miss him.

I should take break from blogging here to get a snack and to take my birth control.  Because this time five years ago, I looked like this*.  And I'll be damned if that's going to happen again.

*But it was worth it.  Check out the prize next to me.

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Toby called tonight.  He used to call when he was on his way home from the pub at stupid o'clock in the morning and ask me to bring him a pack of smokes.

"Um, Tobes, I'm actually in America" I used to say.  And he would laugh and say he forgot.  And then the next weekend I'd get a call saying, "Hi Spesh, I'm just coming home from the pub and it's freezing and I want a curry and also, I'm out of fags"

And I'd be all, "Waaaaaah, Curry!!!! and Waaaaaah Smokes" because I stopped saying fags about five minutes after I moved here.  Because I liked not having my ass kicked.  And I wanted to keep it that way.

Tonight Toby was in Paris and I had to mock him for complaining about his tough life.  In Paris.  Heh!  I miss traveling.

I'm looking at plane tickets to England--they're ridiculously cheap at the minute.  I'm thinking and planning and dreaming.

But I'm still not really writing.  Shit.  Curse you, writer's block!

(I do not, however, have Reader's Block.  This situation has kept me pretty pissed off this week.).  Melissa, if you readt this, I love you and thought you were poised and brilliant on the show.)

I am alive, I promise.  I've had thousands hundreds tens ones of people wondering where I am, and I'm pleased to say that I am not dead and not missing a hand and I haven't frozen to death in this Godforsaken tundra.  There really is a good explanation for why I have not blogged. (It has nothing to do with the fact that I am turning into a sewing nerd)

I have writer's block.  I'm trying to work through it, but it sucks.  I have the words in my head, but they don't translate.  I've even taken to wearing my Quill and Scroll (high school journalism award) around my neck on a necklace for inspiration but nada, zip, zilch.  I got the award eleventy billion years ago and it doesn't mean anything to anybody anymore--except me.  I used to be a writer, you know.  Before the crippling writer's block.

I'm wanting to write about Italy because I miss it.  I know I'm always banging on about how much I miss England and how I hate saying goodbye to people and places all the time, but lately I feel the distance from Naples so keenly.  Perhaps because this time five years ago I was sensitive to feelings, smells, sights, everything.  This time five years ago I was eight days past my due date and feeling like this baby would never come out.  My big ass had to stop driving, which meant no cherished trips into the village at Gricignano to buy fresh fennel or arugula for my salads.  Eh, I wrote about Tom's birth last year, but this year I am feeling the passage of time go by very fast, and it's at once terrifying and amazing.  We have been away from Naples for almost three years.  I have been gone from England for seventeen.  I have been married for ten.  I have known Sarah for twelve.

Sarah is in town this weekend.  We met on an online BBS in 1995 while I was in college in Arkadelphia (one semester! yay me!) and she was in Austin, Texas.  One weekend, she caught a ride up to Arkansas with a friend of mine who was also attending U.T so that she could come and meet me.  We both missed England (she had been stationed there with her family) and both liked the same things.  We were kindred spirits and became eachothers closest ally.  She was my maid of honour at my wedding.  Her parents live in the next town from where I live now.   Over the years, we have drifted in and out of touch, but there is always something there--an understanding that we lived through some intense times, the both of us.  We're still the same at the core.  And now she's here and it was as if no time had passed, except for the constant interruptions from my kids while we were drinking endless cups of tea and eating cake yesterday.  

Now for the gruesome news.

We have mice again.  It makes me freak out to think about it.  The other day, I opened the cupboard and reached down to get the washing up liquid and nearly grabbed a mouse!  I screamed the place down and then the kids and I watched as it played Hide and Seek in the cleaning cupboard.  It is avoiding the traps that I have put down.  Perhaps it knows what happens to mice who try to live here.  Tonight though, the most awful thing--we opened the pantry and there was a small mouse.  Cue to me screaming again (kids laughing at me) and me begging Aaron to please do something about this problem!  So he went and bought some of those sticky traps where the mouse walks on it and then gets stuck.  He put the traps out and after an hour and a half we had caught three mice!  I just about died.  I am getting the shivers thinking about it, seriously!  And the worst part?  They were squeaking pitifully.  My heart broke.  I hate that these poor little things came in out of the bitter cold and tried to find some refuge and a few crumbs and we just trapped them and left them to die.  I hate it.  I also hate that I couldn't stand to hear them squeak so I made Aaron put them in the bin and take it outside.  Oh.  Oh. *much wringing of hands* Poor things.  I did ask him if he could put them out of their misery by perhaps bashing them in the head or shooting them, but he said no.  I read an article about mice coming in the house during the winter and that it is quite common, so none of you had better judge me for having mice.  With these traps though, we won't have them any more.  I am sad and grossed out at the same time.  And squeamish.  And sad, did I mention that?  I don't like cruelty, but I also don't like vermin.

For somebody who has Writer's Block, I certainly am blabbering on.  For real, I'll get my shit together and write a proper blog soon, but I wanted to let you all know that I am okay and haven't frozen to death or been put in jail or anything like that.   But thanks for worrying about me and making me feel loved.  And I have finally caught up on my emails (Elena, I just have yours from last week to respond to--and I will, I promise!). 

On a funny note, I woke up with Pete Wentz hair the other day.  And like a dutiful blogger, I captured it in all its ugly glory.  You're welcome, my poppets.  Never let it be said that I keep my dark side hidden.

Coming soon:  a blog about Italy and how it makes me cry when I think about not being there.  Or, if I can't manage that, a blog about how religious bumper stickers make me laugh.  Example: In case of rapture, this vehicle will be unmanned.   I almost fell out of the van laughing. 

Okay, not the blues, but the blahs.  The snow has caused me to not leave the house in four days and I am craving the conversation of anybody that I'm not related to.  Also, God, the COLD!  This morning when Aaron woke me up, it was actually -11 degrees.  That is NEGATIVE ELEVEN DEGREES!!  Oh my GOD!  That is forty three degrees below freezing! (is that right?  Did I calculate right?)  And we are talking in fahrenheit too, not celcius.  What would that be in celcius? Pretty frigging cold.  Ugh.  I hate cold.  I can't keep my hands and feet warm.  Thank God for tea, coffee, and soup.

Do I look bothered?  Because I am!

In other news, my Dad (You know him as Titch from my comments) started a blog, so why don't you pop over and see what he has to say.  He's led a very interesting life and done a lot of cool stuff, so I hope you'll enjoy reading his thoughts.  He's quite wise, actually.  Wish he'd have been that way when I was a teenager.  Okay, maybe he was.

I'm taking the week off from blogging to get caught up with my emails.  I've not been very good about keeping in touch with people lately, and I don't want to be that person.  I usually get really upset when people don't write or call back, so I need to get on it.  I haven't even done Thank You cards with the kids from CHRISTMAS!  Do you see how behind I am?  To all my friends and relations who think I am a shitbag, please bear with me.  Toby, I am sorry I said you were dead to me just because you didn't keep in touch with me for a while.  I love you, really.  But don't do it again, or for real, you're dead to me.  I know it's stupid, but I've been so pissed with people for not getting in touch, and the thing is, they don't even realize they've done anything wrong.  So, yeah, anyway, I don't want to be that person and am dedicating the week to writing long letters and emails to the people I love.

And now, the sleepiness is taking over, so I must get some espresso.  I'll be back next week.  Have a good one, and stay warm!!

I haven't weighed myself.  I have had a particularly self destructive week in terms of food.  Today I'm back on track.  It hasn't helped that the Weight Watchers website is not letting me use the Point Tracker without messing up, but I will not give up.  I wish I didn't love food, but I do.

If you always do what you always did, you always get what you always got.  I don't know who said that (I'm sure a quick Google search would help me, but I'm too lazy).

Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.  I said this to myself as I threw away the Nigella espresso cupcakes and rum frosting this morning.  I have to think about how good it felt to step on the scale every week and have lost two pounds.  I want that feeling again. 

I need to save my need to be creative for once in a while (baking wise).  I can't create cakes, muffins and biscuits every day and expect to lose weight.  The kids eat some of it, but I end up eating the rest.  There's a sample slice of banana bread here and a couple of scones there, and a slice of cake just to test it and then I end up screaming at myself on weigh-in day.

So, back to the grind.  Again.  No matter how many times it takes.  My Mum says I can do anything I put my mind to.  I'm not sure I believe her, but I'm going to try.

Expect a weigh-in report next friday.