Sasha's Favorite Gift Ever Giveaway

This is my favorite gift ever. It was a close call, as I have had several amazing gifts thrown my way. But this is it: my mom's piano/the bookshelves flanking it that my husband hand-made for me. Yes, I know this isn't the greatest picture. This girl's got some homeschooling to get to.


So if you can pick your Favorite Gift Ever, head on over to Sasha's blog and enter to win another great gift. And tell her I sent you and that I make the best persimmon pudding ever. Or don't. Do what you want.

My runners up included:
1) The enormous painting of a magnolia tree that my husband bought me for our anniversary once
2) My very own copy of The Library
3) The first season of Golden Girls
4) The first season of Frasier (swoon...those were the days!)
5) My first down comforter
6) My silver trumpet
7) My digital camera
8) My laptop

And several more...I love presents! Check out Sasha's blog. If she doesn't love you yet, she will soon...and vice versa.

Crayon Crimes

A box of new crayons! Now they're all pointy, lined up in order, bright and perfect. Soon they'll be a bunch of ground down, rounded, indistinguishable stumps, missing their wrappers and smudged with other colors. Sometimes life seems unbearably tragic. ~Bill Watterson

Aren't they beautiful? I love a box of new crayons. I'm sure you do, too. How could you not?

And the opening quote is, as we all know, only too accurate. Most children just don't have the proper respect for a brand new box of crayons. The contents of my crayon box looks more like this:


And the sad truth is, my youngest son chews, and sometimes ingests, crayons. Yes, Dawson. Yes, ingests. Yes, I do have proof.

They're non-toxic. That's what everyone keeps telling me when I lament a crayon's --ahem--passing. (No, not an entire crayon. But let me assure you, it doesn't take much to make a vibrant showing.) Non-toxic, which also means "non-digestible."

It just seems like such a waste. They don't taste good, and with the lovely pointed tips bitten off, they're just not so adorable anymore.

I try to stop him. I really don't like wiping crayon fragments off my son's rear end. Surely I care more than anyone else in the house, right? But with three other oblivious children playing with a HUGE box of crayons, there's bound to be plenty of them that end up on the floor.

And now that Dawson can make it to the top of the table, all bets are off.

CMA Chat

So...I just want to start out by saying that I kinda like country music. Some of it I like a lot, some of it I can't stand. I'm right on the fence. Almost a neutral, really. Just wanted to make that clear from the get-go.

I guess tonight was CMA night--Country Music Awards, for you non-country-music or non-television type people. We were flipping through channels before bed and landed there. Our kids watched with sleepy interest. The following conversation ensued:

Kellar (3) (Watching Brad Paisley perform): That's Jesus.

Me: No, it isn't.

Nadia (4 1/2): And I don't think he's going to come out there right now,because he doesn't really sing.

Me: At least, not country.


I'm not commenting on any possible theology behind whether or not Jesus really sings. I'm just saying.

Pressure

I was feeling exceptionally cool, because for the first time, I was gonna blog in bed. Oh yes, I know you're all duly impressed. I can hear the oohs and aahs. Thank you for your support.

But then, suddenly, I looked down and saw that my laptop battery was exceptionally low. And do you know what happened? That's right. Pressure.

I knew that I only had a short amount of time before I would no longer be able to blog in bed. Why not plug it in, you ask? Well, that thought occurred to me as well, and I would've been happier than happy to use that suggestion, if it were not for the fact that my laptop cord has three prongs and all the plug-ins in my room have 2 prongs. And yes, I know that I could just get up off my duff and go to the living room, but that kinda defeats the purpose of blogging in bed, doncha think?!

No, I'm not exceptionally bitter over this silly matter, why do you ask?

“The only pressure I'm under is the pressure I've put on myself.”

Mark Messier