Jacob vs. Edward

This blog is about to sacrifice some portion of its dignity. Forgive me.

**Deep Breath**

On TWILIGHT:

I assume Bella chooses Edward because *spoiler alert* apparently they get married in the last book. I still need to finish the third book and move on to that last one.

I also got around to watching Twilight, the movie, a few weeks ago and this weekend I went to see New Moon.

Robert Pattison plays Edward just how I imagined him: creepy, brooding, controlling, and mildly wussy. Don't get me wrong. Brooding can be fun. I like Mr. Darcy's style of brooding but combine brooding with every painfully cheesy thing that Edward says and it's just too much. Besides, at least Mr. Darcy was head over heels for a spunky girl with some life to her.

Kristen Stewart, although beautiful, plays Bella just how I imagined her: dull, unimaginative, uninteresting, a total bore. She reminds me of all the girls/women I know who cannot function without their other halves. Give me a break.

Jacob, on the other hand, I adore. Happy, enthusiastic, energetic, passionate, and WARM! Oh, how I loved the scene when they were on their way back to her house in the truck and she snuggled right up to him so she could heat up. I don't even know the name of the guy that plays him. Hang on, I'll figure it out. Taylor Lautner. (Thanks, Diana!) I thought he was lovely.

So there you have it, my confession.

Not only am I a fan of Jacob, I saw New Moon opening night.

I went with a few girlfriends and I had a great time with them.

It was so much better than the first movie. I think I liked it better because I find the Bella/Edward drama to be tiresome. Their storyline was minimal in New Moon. They are so BORING together.

The squeals and gasps of the little girls in front of us during the movie were worth the price of admission.

That and the preview for Percy Jackson.

Maybe, just maybe, I see a family resemblance between Bella's werewolf and a certain somebody. Don't deny it, you see it, too. They could be the Filipino cousins to the kids who live just outside of Forks.

Bob and two of his Brothers in the Philippines circa 1999.

(I hope I haven't let my friend down who refuses to read the Twilight books because she is disgusted with the way middle aged women swoon and squeal over them. I may have swooned a tiny bit during the movie. But it was dark, so nobody saw, and I didn't squeal once.)

A List of Some Things I Love . . .

. . . and for which I feel Grateful:

1. Robert

2. Anytime Robert makes me laugh

3. My Children

4. Anytime I hear my Children laugh

5. Anytime I can make my children laugh

6. Eddie

7. Every time Eddie does the dishes (almost every night!)

8. Unlimited Long Distance from Qwest

9. Christmas music, especially: The Carpenters (for when I'm feeling all nostalgic about Christmas), Harry Connick, Jr., Jewel, Sarah McLachlin (for when I'm feeling all melancholy about the Holidays), Nat King Cole

10. Bedtime, and generally putting my kids to bed (the young ones) and visiting the kids after they go to bed (the older ones.) I love bedtime, not for the fact that they are going to bed, but for the few moments we share before they go to sleep. I like to hear the day's recap, this is often when they make requests (most recently: Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Dog Days), all four of them still love a bedtime snuggle. I just love bedtime.

No Actual Bunnies Were Harmed in the Making of this Costume

Okay, listen. I'm not feeling particularly clever in the word department. I emptied my cleverness account last week at my sewing machine and I especially didn't make any deposits today as I spent most of the day lamenting the fact that my sister may as well live on the moon for all the time we get to spend together. (What was it, Sara, like thirty six hours or something? Thirty six hours every six months is not enough time.)

I just read that last paragraph. Maybe I'm feeling more clever than I thought.

Following is a possibly non-clever account of how Halloween went down this year. I was mildly disappointed in how Stella's costume came out, but she didn't seem to notice how lame it was, so that's good.

I attended Creed's Fall Party. It was not a Halloween Party, it was a Fall Party. No costumes allowed. However, I was making slime with the children, so of course I needed a lab coat and protective eyewear. Can I help it if I looked like a Mad Scientist?

Friday was costume day at the gym, so I went as a witch. Everything I wore, I already owned. I pulled the dress out of our Halloween bin and just did a quick hem job because it needed to be short enough for me to bust out my roundhouse kicks.

George is the only one out of the five children in whose costume I am allowed any input. I figured since I am endlessly chasing him around, it would be fitting for him to be the White Rabbit to my Alice and Bob's Mad Hatter. I whipped up a vest and a bowtie and turned a kitty cat headband into a bunny rabbit headband with the help of some fake white fur and floral wire. I found a dress pattern with puffy sleeves and modified the bodice, then used an apron pattern I already had. I also made a petticoat because I wanted the dress to poof. I had settled on these costumes last year, way before I knew about Tim Burton's new movie. I hate being trendy, but I can't help it when it happens accidentally. So of course we styled our Mad Hatter after Colleen Atwood's. Besides, I am way ahead of Tim Burton because I've been quoting Lewis Carroll on my blog for years. (See the quote under my blog header? It's from the cautionary tale of The Walrus and the Carpenter. I probably should have credited Mr. Carroll with those words long ago.)

And here we have the whole gang. It may seem like the kids got the shaft in the costume department, but they got what they wanted. I really should be allowed more input. The boys announced on Tuesday that they needed cloaks for their costumes. Until then, Creed was insisting that he was going to play the part of Himself this year and Jack wanted to be a zombie in Jack clothing. Creed ended up going as a ghoul and Jack was a Little Person from the book series Cirque du Freak (which is also being turned to film by Hollywood this year.) I styled the cloaks without a pattern, and they turned out great if I do say so myself. Stella was Coraline. I adore her for breaking the Disney Princess mold and going as a quirky character whose favorite color is blue. I puffy painted white stars all over a black shirt. It looks really cool in a black light. We could not get her hair to turn blue. I sprayed and sprayed it with this crap from a can and while the entire bathroom, her face, and her hands and my boogers all turned blue, her hair never did. I stuck some blue clip-ins to her head and called it good. Not pictured is Eddie, who wore a camouflage jacket and a bandana and called himself a disgruntled veteran. He stayed home and passed out candy with his friends. The person in the photo to whom we are not related (but, if all goes as planned, we will be someday bwahahaha) is our friend who came Trick or Treating with us. I have an uncanny knack for convincing childless people to spend random holidays with me. (Hi Andrew! Hi Mark! I know you aren't reading, but Hello to a few of our best friends, anyway.) She was dressed as a Cave Woman and her Dog was The Beast. We turned the night into a scavenger hunt and the only thing we never found was a house serving Cider and Donuts.

The next night we had a Church Halloween Party. We Christians love our Pagan Holiday Traditions. Bob was ON CALL (Boo), and Sara was STUCK IN COLORADO (double boo), and Eddie REFUSED to wear the costume (boo boo boo), so the always amazing Robyn stepped in and played the part of my Mad Hatter. She is a true friend. That is Creed on the floor behind us being a ghoul.

I won second place in the chili cookoff with my pot of Chili Blanco. I even got a trophy. All in all, it was a pretty good night.

If you ask, I can totally bust out the Jabberwocky from memory.

Whet Your Appetite

Have I ever told you about the time I took second place in a chili cook-off while I was dressed as Alice in Wonderland?

I haven't?

Well, stay tuned. Pictures and words coming soon.

(I left my camera in the car and Eddie took my car to work today.)

I didn't spot Bull Shannon anywhere

I'm glad I've never had to go to court as a defendant or as a witness.

When I first arrived for Jury Duty, I was hoping that I would not be selected.

As the day wore on, however, I started to feel a swell of pride for my country and our judicial system, and the part that I, an average jane, get to play.

(I'm easily brainwashed. Someday I'll tell you about the time a giant salesman convinced me I needed to spend $5,000.00 on a water softener. It cures kidney stones! It solves acne problems! It makes your hair silky and smooth! With the money you save on soap, it practically pays for itself! Or I could tell you about the time a tiny salesman convinced me I needed a $1,000.00 knife set. They cut through steel! Then they slice paper thin discs of tomato! They never need sharpening! You can use the kitchen shears on anything from paper, to aluminum, to garden stems, to chicken bones! They are actually cheaper than a Henkels knife set! Have you got some swamp property in Florida you'd like to sell me? Show me where to sign.)

Let's just say I am intimately familiar with the three day grace period on all credit card purchases.

Where was I? Oh, yes, Jury Duty.

As I looked around at my fellow jurors, I realized that we were quite the cross section of the population of my county.

Retirees, young mothers, not-so-young mothers (ahem), students, young professionals, grandparents, laborers.

Want to know what middle America looks like? Walk into a courthouse and take a look at the juries that are sitting on cases.

That's us.

I can't talk about the case.

It's ongoing.

Don't even ask.

The verdict on the roasted pigs we served on our wedding day: GUILTY of being delicious

The verdict on dressing the pigs as a bride and groom: GUILTY of being totally awesome

The verdict on the lattice I chose to disguise our church gym as something else: NOT GUILTY of being even remotely tasteful

The verdict on the bride and groom themselves: GUILTY of being skinnier back then, and madly in love today

Now I have to go to bed. I have court in the morning.

And that's no bull.

How to Save Money and the Environment

a.k.a. An Alternate Workout

a.k.a. A Superfun Game for the Kids

Our bathtub faucet is broken. Not just a dripdripdrip kind of broken but a constant ttttrrriiiiccckkkklllleeee kind of broken. It's something to do with O-Rings and needing to replace the entire faucet, not just a matter of tightening a few bolts and moving on with our lives.

I found the faucet I want and it needs to be special ordered. boo. For now, the soundtrack of my days is tttttrrrrriiiiiccccckkkkkklllllleeeeee. It's very annoying. One day, Bob turned off the water leading to the bathroom and I spent my day in blessed silence as I consumed bon-bons and watched my stories.

I didn't get to take a shower that day.

I had a really sweaty disgusting workout that morning.

I woke up the next morning with three new pimples.

Today I went down and tried to turn off the water myself. It was confusing and tiresome and a failed attempt. I am beyond irritated. With every ttttrrriiiicccckkkkllllleeee that goes down the drain, I hear dollardollardollar going down the drain, along with my sanitysanitysanity.

As I gathered laundry from various people's bedrooms, a solution dawned on me.

Do you see where this is going?

Conserve water! I didn't drain the tub after I bathed George. I filled my giant stockpot with water from the tub and lugged it downstairs. When I opened the washer, I was greeted with the pleasant aroma of towels that had been sitting in the washing machine since, I think, Saturday.

Thank you, mysterious laundry fairy. Thank you.

I dumped the big pot of water into the washbasin (that's what I call it now, because I am a frontier woman. Fetching water.) I did this three times before I realized that the washbasin was not getting any fuller of water. More full? I don't know. It wasn't filling. Dangit. Giant pots of water are heavy. And awkward.

I'm a frontier woman, I don't know how to work these newfangled contraptions. I fiddled with the settings on the machine.

Several trips up and down the stairs later, the washing machine is running and the faucet is dripping into a still stoppered tub. I still have a lot of laundry to get through today.

When His Majesty returns to Our Castle, I will implore him to teach me about the mysteries of water valves and the shutting of them off.

What's not to like?

Following is the text of a conversation I had with my daughter after reading that a girl's self esteem mirrors her perception of her mother's self esteem, not what her mother actually thinks of her little girl, or herself for that matter.

Hey, Stella, do you think I like myself?

Stella: Yes. Why wouldn't you?

Me: I don't know. I'm asking you. What do you think I think about the way I look?

Stella: That you have a lot of zits (ouch, true, but . . . ouch).

Me: What about my body? What do you think I think about my body?

Stella: That it's strong!

Can I tell you how happy I am that she didn't refer to size or looks in any way? She's right, though. I can almost do a pull-up.