Santa

We took AG to see Santa yesterday.  I was pretty scared of what I just knew would be long lines, and a freaking out baby. 

(Which secretly I kind of hoped for, b/c the pictures of kids screaming on Santa's lap?  Priceless.  They make me laugh so hard that I'd seriously better not be eating or drinking anything when I see them.  As learned from experience.)

(Also, maybe I shouldn't admit to the blogging world that I hoped AG would cry.  But oversharing is what we do here, right?  And by "we," clearly I mean "I.")

I am a grinch and hate the mall at Christmas, so when we arrived, it did not amuse me to learn that Santa had taken a lunch break.

Diva.

Fortunately,  we only waited in line about 20 minutes before our big moment. 

I think she liked him, don't you?



Hey!  I like your beard.
(Isn't that a line in a Ke$ha song?)



She may have a thing for older men, b/c she LOVED him.
And I'm totally joking, because she isn't allowed to have "a thing" for any man until she's 37.
Just so we're clear.

  

Crafty

Here's what happens when I either A) have too much coffee, or B) am procrastinating.  Or (let's be honest here), C) a combination of both. 

Are you as afraid as I am?  I got all 3rd-grade crafty up on this gift bag.
Who am I?

(No.  Really.  Who am I?)

As I noted on the bag, no less, clearly I may have too much time on my hands. 

And too much coffee in my system. 

And probably (hopefully) more important things to be doing than making hot pink Christmas-y gift bags!

*Disclaimer:  If you would like a tutorial on how to make a fancy, custom Christmas gift-bag, I am happy to provide one.  On the other hand, if you have even a grade-school education, I am sure you can figure it out.

Funny-Looking

Had a conversation with John this morning that went something like this:

Me:  So, what do you think are the chances of Sarah Palin being our next president?
(You know, because I am SO politically-minded that I often speculate about upcoming elections over breakfast.)

(Or not.)

(Ever.)

John:  I'd say her chances are about zero.  I mean, come on, she has a reality show.
(With clear and obvious disdain for reality shows.  Which I take issue with, because there are some really good ones out there.  Like, Real Housewives of Atlanta, 16 & Pregnant, and okay, I'll stop now.)

Me:  So?  I'd be all about having a reality show, you know, if they wanted to show me running around in my sweatpants, taking care of a baby, trying to work, and falling asleep on the couch at 9:30.

(Because who wouldn't tune in for that?) 

John:  Oh, I'm sure you'd find a way to make it funny-looking.

Well, THANK YOU, HONEY.  Clearly my talent in life is making things "funny-looking." 
You and AG are so lucky to have me.

Walking, Girls Weekend, and A Question

A lot has happened in the past week.  A LOT. 

For starters, my girl started walking!  And I just got really tired thinking about what that means for my future.  Her preferred method of transportation continues to be crawling, since it's way faster.  Not to mention, it's a lot less scary for mommy.  Because now that she's walking, she's gotten about 35 bruises in the last 2 days.

Also, I am never known to exaggerate.

In other news, I contracted what is probably my 45th cold this year.  (See above, re: "never exaggerating.") But I mean, really?  What is the deal?  I know I'm a mother to a 1 year-old petri dish of germs, but STILL. 

Dear Germs,

GO AWAY.  I am tired of snotting all over the place, although it is undoubtedly attractive to my husband. My nose is raw, and that stupid Kleenex with aloe?  It DOESN'T WORK. 

Did I mention that I don't have time for you?  It's Christmas, and I have a toddler. 

Go enjoy the holidays in someone else's nose.

Sincerely,
Your latest victim, who is tired of hacking like an 80-year old smoker.

On a much more fun note, I went on a girls weekend last weekend with Steph and Eryn, two of my very best friends from college. We loaded up the car with the essentials--you know, magazines, snacks, and pants with elastic waistbands--and prepared to get our fun on. 

(Why can't I stop that? WHY?!?)

Got dorky playing with my iPhone ShakeIt app.  But what isn't awesome about shaking it like a polaroid picture?  Oh yeah.  I did.

Wasn't aware that my eyes were yellow.  Apparently, my iPhone thinks I'm a Cullen. 


Upon arriving in Blue Ridge, we thought "hey!  We may or may not need a few more snacks.  Let us stop at the grocery store."

A lady approached us while we were checking out, and goes: "You girls aren't from around here are you?"

Why, what gave it away?  The rarely worn puffy jackets?  The armloads of candy and tabloid magazines? The fact that I had on peep-toed shoes and it was 32 degrees outside?  Hmmmmmmm......

After admitting that we weren't, in fact, "from around here," and were instead from "the city,"  she goes:  "Ummm hmmmm.  Thought so.  Now, don't you girls go drinking and driving, okay? Wouldn't want y'all to drive off the mountain."

Well, yes.  That makes 4 of us.  Not really part of our weekend plans.  But thanks for the vote of confidence, lady.



This was our view....up on the mountain, which, thankfully, we managed not to "drive off." 



It was a fabulous, relaxing, hilarious weekend, full of shopping, reading up on Taylor and Jake (and what I believe to be a totally fake, publicist-driven relationship, but that's another post entirely), and eating things I could never get away with at home.  I loved every minute!

And then, clearly, I loved coming home to this:



Although, apparently my iPhone also thinks John visited a Mystic Tan booth while I was gone.
For the record, he is NOT orange.

Finally, blog friends, if you made it to the end of this rash, rambling post, I have a question for you.  What are you getting the men in your lives for Christmas?   I'm talking husbands, boyfriends, brothers, fathers, and fathers-in-law. 


I'm really good at girl presents.  I mean really good.  Here's my strategy:  find something I love, talk myself out of buying it for myself, take it home and wrap it.  Talk myself out of keeping it for myself, and give it to the woman I bought it for.  Hope that she will eventually want to let me borrow it.  See, easy?

Somehow, I don't think any of the men in my life would enjoy an Anthropologie top, or a gift card to Lululemon.  Help!

Some Thoughts for Your Thursday (It IS Thursday, Right?)

1.  Leggings are amazing.  As are fake uggs, or "fuggs" as I like to call them.

(Now, John would probably beg to differ with me on both of those comments.  However.  I maintain that leggings are much more socially acceptable than sweatpants, yet still allow me the comfort of an elastic waistband. Highly important.)

2.  I am in love with Starbucks's Peppermint Mocha.  IN LOVE. And don't even get me started on my feelings for the cranberry bliss bars.  I literally feared for the cashier's life when he told me that they were out today. 

Don't get between me and my cranberry bliss bars. 

3.  Here is further proof of my OCDness.  As if we needed any more after the stainless steel wipes insanity.

Yes.  That is our Christmas tree.

Which was put up in November.

Ask me when it made it's Christmas debut last year?

Oh, about Christmas Eve.  

I have no idea what has happened to me.

Although I do know that my arm is apparently about 37 feet long.