Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

...and that about sums it up.

I wish you all joy, and peace, and a holiday surrounded by those you love. Or at least can tolerate fairly well for one day a year.

And as Donkey from "Shrek the Halls" Christmas special so succinctly put it, "Christmas ain't Christmas til somebody cries!"

Merry Christmas, my dear friends.

In Case You Were Wondering....

Moving stinks.

Packing stinks worse.

Discovering items you thought you couldn't live without and have kept for years only to realize you have not thought about them, looked for them, or needed them in the same number of years stinks worser.

Having a husband who is a packing pro smells nice. The packing pro part, not the actual husband. Well, sometimes he does too. Wait, that sounded wrong. Never mind.

No Title

Very original, isn't it? I just couldn't think of what I wanted to call this post, so after about three valuable minutes spent staring at the screen, I thought, "Forget it! I never stick to my topic anyway!" That is some very fine journalism going on over here at moreofawoman. All for you, baby, all for you.

My trip to California went very well. I worked in our main office (I am considered an independent contractor and work at home, but basically am still an employee--I reside in the netherworld between the two) and exhibited at a conference on health care fraud. Well, I didn't personally exhibit anything, my company did. (because I am just not that kind of girl). Anyway...this conference was very interesting in that I got to meet and spend time talking to alot of real, live FBI agents. Can I just tell you that out of the hundreds of agents that I saw, not any of them look like the heroes or heroines you see in the movies or read about in novels? None of the men, with the exception of about three or four, were drop dead gorgeous, with chiseled features and rock hard abs and eyes that bore holes through you. Nor were the women willowy visions of loveliness who looked as at home on a catwalk as they did on the firing range. And know what? It made me feel good. FBI agents gain weight, age, and fall into frumpiness just like we normal folks do.

The agents I spoke with were very kind and respectful, and it made me happy to know that our nation is being protected by people like them. I spoke with a few female agents and asked them how they liked the Academy. One said that she loved all of it except for the running portion, because she hates to run. I agreed that running because you have to would seriously stink, and I would probably fail out of the Academy my first day there. She was so kind because she said, "If I can make it through the Academy, you totally could too." I realize she was probably lying, but that did make my day. So all of you better watch it around me, because I could maybe possibly kick your keister if I ever were to go back in time and enroll in the FBI Academy after I completed the college degree I never got. That's right. You better be scared.

I was gone from Monday morning before the chickens got up until Thursday night at midnight. Then on Friday, we had a sleepover party for my son's birthday. His actual bday is in January and will happen about three weeks after we move to a different state, so we decided to let him have a party early before we leave here. Picture this: four boys between 9-12, cake, soda, pizza, Nerf guns, and a toddler. Welcome to my weekend. The boys had a great time and were just too funny to watch. But it does make me glad that this birthday thing only comes once a year for each kid.

My kid is the one in bright blue. I call this portrait Goofballs On Parade.

Speaking of birthdays, mine was on Saturday. I am now officially 37 years old. (Pardon me while I weep uncontrollably for my lost youth. Okay, done now.) I am having a hard time believing that I truly am only three years away from forty. Forty is so old! Or at least I used to think it was. Now I am beginning to revise my opinion on that one...

My good friend CC took me out to a nice brunch at a little Victorian tea room, and it was marvelous. Such a nice time of laughing and eating and talking and eating and visiting and eating. My husband bought me some wonderful smelling perfume from Mary Kay called Bella Belara. Yummyful! Very very nice and fresh. My son picked out a smores snowman ornament for me, and my daughter helped my husband pick out a pink Mossy Oak tshirt from Cabela's. I believe Hub said her contribution was pointing and saying, "Mommy shote! Mommy shote!" translation meaning, "I really think Mom would look great in that shirt, Dad. Why don't you buy it?" All in all, I had a great day. Now if I only wouldn't have stepped on the scale that day, then I could be in perfect denial....

On the moving front, we are getting our trailer delivered this Friday. We will have all weekend to load it, and they will pick it back up on Monday the 17th. This means that for at least a week, we will only have what we can pack in the back of our pickup. Sleeping on the floor, using plastic dishes, cooking out of one pot...it will be like camping, only with no woods, wild animals or beauty of nature. Good times. Depending on when the movers can deliver our stuff, and when we can actually get to Missouri, then we will either get our stuff on Friday the 21st...or not until Wednesday the 26th. Which means we could end up having Christmas with no stuff--well, except for the plastic dishes and one pot. In addition to all that, there are severe storm and ice storm warnings for part of the area we will be driving through next week. Yay. And here I thought the only thing we'd have to deal with while driving fortyfrillion miles across the country was a grumpy toddler.

I like to move it, move it. I like to move it, move it. And to ride hoe-seee.

Remember the old saying, "That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger"? By the time we move into our new house, I am going to be freaking Xena the Warrior Princess, baby.

Pray, y'all. Pray hard.

Venus and Mars at Thanksgiving

Do you ever feel like your life, if taped and aired on national television, would resemble a sit-com or a tragedy? This weekend, mine bore traits of both.

Wednesday afternoon, after the Zman got home from school, we left for the six and a half hour drive to my mom's house for Thanksgiving. I had packed, organized, and cleaned the night before so that all I had to do was put the food in the cooler and grab our kids and go. My husband had the great idea (and I am not being sarcastic) of listing our ATV on craigslist.com in my mom's town, since ATVs are big stuff in Central Oregon. He got a few calls on it, so we decided to tow it over there and hopefully sell the thing. The night before we left, we had this conversation:

R: Missie, where is the spare key to the ATV?

Me: Wha-? Honey, I have no idea. Where did you last have it?

R: I don't know where it is, that's why I am asking you.

Me: When did you last see it?

R: I remember seeing it in our old house.

Me: The one we sold in July?

R: Duh, what other old house did you think I meant?

Me: So you remember seeing it sometime before we moved in July. July...as in four months ago. As in you haven't seen it in four months. And you are asking me where it is?

R: Did you put it somewhere?

Me: Honey, think...I have been on the ATV like five times since we bought it. I have never been around the thing without you. I have never taken it hunting or camping or anything. Why would I even know we had a spare key?

R: Well, help me find it!!!

Get the picture? Yeah, the conversation was going nowhere. So I started looking around everywhere I could think of where a key might possibly be. And since it's shiny and silver, OH AND LITTLE! it should be no problem finding it. Everywhere I looked, my husband would come behind me and say, "I already looked there. It's not there. Look somewhere else!" After about the fifth time of hearing that, I finally said, "It has to be somewhere. You asked me to help you look. Leave me alone and let me look!"

After about an hour of searching, we couldn't still couldn't find it. We decided that we would just let the new owner know that we had a spare key, and as soon as it was located, we would drop it in the mail. My husband then got the title, the maintenance info, instruction book, etc all together and laid it on our barstool in preparation for our trip the next day. (remember that...on the barstool..)

While packing up the last minute items on Wednesday, I grabbed the stuff from the barstool and told my husband through the bathroom door, "honey, I got all the paperwork and stuff from the stool. I am taking it to the car, okay?" to which he replied "okay". He came out to the car a few minutes later and asked me, "Are you sure you got everything?" to which I replied, "Yes, honey, I got all the stuff from the stool."

(Now, why am I boring you with this little piece of nothing from my life? Besides it's my blog and I can? To further demonstrate how it is such a miracle that men and women have been managing to meet, fall in love, get married, and STAY TOGETHER FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS when incidents like this happen. Stay tuned...)

We arrived at my mom's on Wednesday night after fun filled trip with two children oh so happy to be in the car and our nerves frazzled. We had a nice restful night, and then were up early on Thursday morning to start preparations for dinner. I won't go into how I burned my forehead with cranberry sauce, or how I forgot my two favorite recipes at home and then couldn't find them online and had to wing it, or how my mom, who has about forty seven frillion jars of spices in her cabinet had NO POULTRY SEASONING, because all that's just not necessary.

My husband took the ATV down to the car wash to clean it all up before the guy came to look at it later in the morning. He was gone about ten minutes when I get this call...

R: Missie....where is the key to the ATV?

Me: (stirring sauce and burning my forehead) I have no idea.

R: Didn't you grab it yesterday?

Me: No, I did not. Where was it?

R: On the counter! With the title and stuff!

Me: No, the title was on the barstool.

R: You said you grabbed all the stuff!

Me: I did. From the barstool.

R: Why didn't you take the key?

Me: I didn't see the key. I didn't look for the key. I didn't think about the key. Why would I be looking for the key?

R: BECAUSE NOW WE DON'T HAVE THE KEY! WE TOWED THIS THING FOR ALMOST SEVEN HOURS AND WE DON'T HAVE THE KEY!

Me: Why didn't you have the key with the ATV since we spent all that time looking for the spare key last night?

R: Because I had the key on the counter so I wouldn't forget it! I was going to grab it when I got the other stuff, but you said you got the stuff and you picked up everything!

Me: I did grab everything. FROM. THE. BARSTOOL.

So, yeah, that made for some Turkey day stress right there. He was mad at me for forgetting to grab the key, and I was mad at him for being the goof who didn't put the key we did have with the ATV so we wouldn't forget it in the first place. After a $20 trip to a locksmith, R was able to turn on the ATV by flicking some dohickey with the engine dealie and could run it. Good times.

Anyway, we did end up having a nice time that day after tempers cooled and the comedy of errors was revealed. We decided that this whole marriage and procreation thing must have been a plan of God, because no way would men and women been able to successfully stay together without divine intervention. And no way would they then travel with their offspring during the holiday season without providential urging.

Nuff said for now. Will post in a few days about the rest of the trip. How was your Thanksgiving?

Someone save me from my parents.

Recipe Monday...because I said

This week promises to be crazy with a capital "Where Is My Prozac?"

I like to simplify things as much as possible during the wild holiday season, and one of my favorite ways to do that is with this recipe. I was surfing through AllRecipes.com a few years back and wanted a simple, delicious stuffing. I like mine moist but not wet, and full of flavor in every bite. I came across this recipe and it intrigued me because other than the initial sauteeing of vegetables, the whole thing cooks in the crock pot! How great is that? It frees up your oven and your time. You can add or delete any ingredients you wish, which is another great thing about this recipe. I usually chop up all the veggies the night before to get that out of the way. Then if I have time, I may sautee them the night before also, then just refrigerate until the next morning, assemble the rest, and plop it into the ole crockpot. My family absolutely raves about this stuffing, so if they love it, that settles it in my book.

So as my gift to you, here is the link to my favorite stuffing recipe of all thyme! (get it? cuz we're talking about cooking? and thyme is an herb? and I am certainly the only person in the history of ever to come up with that play on words? why aren't you laughing?)

http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Slow-Cooker-Stuffing/Detail.aspx

Anyhoo....Happy Turkey Day, ebberbuddy (Ali word) and remember to count your blessings. Speaking of counting, calories consumed during the preparation and clean up of the Thanksgiving meal only count as half. ;)

In honor of the national holiday, here is my domesticated Turkey showing off his wild turkey.

Cutie Pie Friday

Just 'cause I wanted to share the adorableness with the world. No need to thank me.

Finally home...

Hey, y'all!

We made it back from Missouri in one piece, refreshed by the time away from the kids, but exhausted by the schedule we kept while there. We missed the chirrens something fierce, but in no time, they had us wishing we were going away again. (just kidding!)

I could bore you with all the details of what happened during our trip, but I care for your mental health more than that. Suffice it to say that we are most probably moving our family halfway across the country in less than 6 weeks. We have put an offer in on a house -- one of the TWELVE we saw in one day -- and are waiting to hear if it gets accepted or not. A house with a red bathroom, y'all. Red. Not marroon, burgundy, or merlot. Red. As in Would Look At Home On The Walls Of A Brothel red. So yeah. Envy me.

Anyhoo, I will post more later, as soon as I know something more definite. About anything. But rest assured I have learned one very important lesson the last few days....

Country Gravy + Chicken Fried Steak + Mashed Potatoes + Peppermint Milkshake + Yeasty Rolls + Fast Food Burger and Tacos = Pants that don't fit.

Just another service I offer here at Moreofawoman...all for you.