Fairy Tale Christmas

There are a few things that I have learned are not real. The Easter Bunny. The Great Pumpkin. Unicorns. Fairies, elves, and flying reindeer with glowing red noses. Things that make for pretty stories but that you never will encounter in real life.

I thought that snowflakes were one of these myths and legends perpetuated to make people feel just a little better about snow. After all, snowflakes don't look like this, now do they?

Our house is currently under three feet of snow, and a huge storm is expected to bring many more inches tomorrow. It's been snowing all day today, too, but not very seriously. The clouds are just stretching and warming up for the big day tomorrow. But as I was out attacking the glacier that is in our driveway, I noticed this snow looked a little different than any I had seen before. Sorta like instant potato flakes*. Then I looked a little closer.

Holy cow of the ancient milk goddess! THEY REALLY DO EXIST!

Look at these! I was afraid I wasn't going to get a good picture--but LOOK! You can see them in all their six-pointed wonder and delicate gorgeousosity! Here's a long shot:

And a close-up:
Did you SEE THEM?

And they made the teensy little tree we have out front look fabulous, too:

Close-up of tree branch:
Now it makes me wonder--what else is out there that I've taken for granted** is just a nice story we tell to make children's lives a little brighter? If I hear a prowler tomorrow night banging around in the house and attack him with the baseball bat that is under the bed, will I end up apologizing profusely to the Man in Red? Will he throw coal at me? Will he whip out his reindeer whip and go all manga on me?

Hmm. Merry Christmas to you!


*Which I never, EVER use. Oh no. I boil all my potatoes and mash them by hand. I grow the potatoes before I cook them, too. I have a potato field in my back yard, and a potato cellar in the garage.
**Another example of this is windshield washer fluid. It's something that I've always taken for granted, and believed would be there every time I pressed the button. However, it turns out if it gets cold enough, the stuff freezes. I had no idea. Apparently you are supposed to change the windshield washer fluid to a winter formula. Who would've guessed? (Also, if anyone has some really good tips about how to thaw out a washer fluid reservoir that is frozen solid, please let me know, 'kay?)

Blog-Hopping: An Off-Color Adventure

We've all done this: you get on the Internet with the simple intention of checking your email, and an hour later you find yourself about twenty clicks away looking at a YouTube movie of a cat playing the piano. Or something else much more disturbing, like a piano playing a cat.

This is the story of what I was doing last night. My intentions were simple enough--just five minutes to check on a blog or two I haven't been to in awhile--then I was going to go do the dishes, like I was supposed to've done right after dinner.

Anyway, Millie posted this fabulous Eric Snider link where he mocks Twilight*. Absolutely great stuff. Very funny. It had been awhile since I've read any Eric Snider, so I spent a few minutes poking around his blog, and found a link where a few people were mocking snippets from "Police Beat" in the Daily Universe. (If any of you are graduates of BYU and remember the Daily Universe, this may bring back fond memories.) I greatly enjoyed reading it, but it does start to get a little off-color. (I was not offended, but that doesn't mean much. My favorite bit by far was "Long Juan Silver." Just thinking about it right now is making me choke a little.)

Then I started snooping around that blog, and I found this. And laughed. (By now, my sides are hurting.) After you've clicked on that link, click here for some pictures of the...er...completed recipe. Oh, heavens.

And from there, I found yet another link to here (this one has its own pictures). Worse and worse, but I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard.

And then I went to bed. Right after I hurriedly scrubbed dishes and threw them in the dishwasher, that is.

And now I'd better post this and run off to the kitchen, because I'm already a half hour late starting dinner. (How does that happen? Blasted Internet. Wait--maybe I should just look on ebay for just a minute and see if anyone happens to be selling some self-discipline...)

*For you Twilight fanatics: Elastic posted something awhile back, too, which I enjoyed very much as well: a mock trailer for Twilight. If you haven't seen it yet, now is the time.

gratitude

I've got an awful lot to be grateful for. For example, did you know that chocolate did not EXIST in the solid bar form prior to 1830? That's right. People just drank it, like coffee. Sad.

I am also extremely grateful for electricity, which makes other wonderful things such as central heat, air conditioning, refrigerators, and computers possible. I mean, where would I be without my electric throw wrapped around me as I type this? And microwaves make hot chocolate just about instant, which is a wonderful thing on a chilly night like this. (It's been below freezing.)

Also, deodorant and toothpaste. Need I say more? Yes. I am grateful for soap. Scented, bubbly soap that does not smell like lard or ash (which is what soap used to be made of...though I don't know if I believe it...)

I'm grateful for great big things, things like health--mine and other family members--and the Gospel, and family, and people who set a world's record by making a gigantic cookie.

I'm grateful for silly things, like knock-knock jokes and presidential elections.

And I'm grateful for you. Thanks for stopping by. Here, some more of what I'm grateful for: my digital camera and the beautiful world we live in:




































Happy Thanksgiving!

Our Primary Presentation Was Today

Yup. It sure was. This was my son's first time participating. Well, "participating" doesn't seem to be the right word. He did go up. Eventually. After I asked him, "Do you want to walk up, or do you want me to carry you?" (I carried him up there.) And once he was up there, I had to stay nearby to keep him from bolting. He didn't sing. He sat when he was supposed to stand, and stood when he was supposed to sit, and he really really worked on giving the crustiest looks possible while he pouted during the songs. He had one line, something like: "I will follow Jesus because I love Him," which he mumbled as grouchily as he possibly could into the microphone. It was, of course, completely unintelligible. A little bit later, he found that one of his fingernails was coming off (he's a nail picker and can't leave them alone). It just happened to be his middle finger. So he said, as is his habit, "Mom, I got a fingernail goin' on!" and waved his finger in the air to show me--and flipped off the entire congregation. I sneaked a little closer and removed the fingernail. Five minutes and some picking later, he did it again. Same finger, same obscenity. And then it was over. I'm just happy he went up there and participated at all! And I just hope that his participation in today's program made some people's sacrament meeting just a little more entertaining.

Happy Halloween!!!!

I had so many posts planned. I'm not getting any of them done.

Sad, isn't it?

But--I managed to pull myself together for a few minutes and slammed a few things together really quick before my diseased brain noticed what my fingers were doing. So, for your Halloween enjoyment, Some Stuff:

Recently my son has discovered Garfield, and for some reason, he's taken a shine to 'im. So here are two haunted house scavenger hunt games, and they have the warm (and slightly sticky) seal of approval from a 4-year-old:

(Click on the picture to follow the link.)

(...and here's PART TWO):



Does anyone have a favorite movie they like to watch around this time of year? I prefer spooky over gore, and thought-provoking over...well...cheesy dialogue. Here is one of my favs (and it's R, FYI):



Here's a little movie that involves Death and a Kitty. (What's with all the cats around here, anyway?) I liked it. And I promise it has a happy ending:



And the last one is another fun little game that answers the question: What happens if you steal a vampire's teddy bear?



Happy Halloween!!

AROOO! ( <-- that's me howling)

First of all,



Many of you blog readers have left comments, sent emails, actually called my house, left more emails with your phone numbers in them and some unsubtle hints for me to call you, left other comments, left messages on my answering machine, sent roses and chocolate,* sent wonderful Halloween SOCKS and assorted goodies,** etc.

And here I sit, not one phone call made, not one email returned...well, I may have returned an email to somebody at some point...but not one thank-you note sent.

I'm sorry about that. It's not that I don't love you, it's just that I currently am covered in fur, and the long fangs make it hard to speak intelligibly. And the long claws make it hard to type or dial the phone. I really am trying to pull my head out of my nether-regions, but I think it's gonna take a little more time (it is much more difficult to pull your head out if the long bushy tail gets in the way, you see). I'm okay. Or I will be. Sooner or later. When the medication kicks in. Or when the moon falls out of the sky and stops doing this to me.

Sigh.

The worst bit is that this screwed up my Halloween blog party...oh well. I have to say that I have sent out...5 or 6? packages to people, and I'm not sending any more, so I guess the contests are closed. But I'm still leaving up the links because I like them.

I'll see you soon.

Thanks,
weenie

*Not really, but I wouldn't put it past some of you.
**This part is actually true. It even came with a note written on HAUNTED PAISLEY...oooOOOooo! Man, that paisley was scary.

"Baaaaad Week!" said the sheep.

I’m having a bad week*. I feel out of control. I’m just so sad, and not for any reason in particular. Oh, and that also means I’m edgy and seething with rage. You know, for no reason whatsoever. I really should have some sort of warning hanging around my neck:

Beware. May Spontaneously Combust, and You Might Get Some On You.

Or:

Do Not Feed. Will Bite. And Butt Will Grow So Large** Its Gravitational Pull Will Drag You Right Into…Well, You Don’t Want to BE There, Trust Us.†

Or:

Insert Prozac Into Slot Mouth.††

So I’ve basically crawled into a hole and am trying to stay in here until it wears off. So sorry if I haven’t—and won’t—be coming by your blog for a bit. I will. But only after I feel a little more…or, rather, a little less…spiky?

This does NOT interrupt contests, by the way. If you're interested in that sort of thing. And my mood rollercoastering does not stop the advent of Halloween:

*Maybe quite a bit longer than that, really, but this week has been worse.

**Serious about this one. You know how I joined a gym recently, and I’ve been going regularly for a month or so now? Guess what? I’ve actually gained weight since going to the gym. Something doesn’t add up here. Or rather, it’s adding up too well and far too fast. What is this? I hit my thirties and my metabolism just gives up on me? COMPLETELY? $#@!&%$‡

†"Us" = Committee for More Explicit Signs. They are mostly trustworthy, but somewhat long-winded.

††The biggest reason I'm where I am right now is 'cause my prescription ran out just after the move--whoops!--and as soon as I sorted out all our new insurance info, I called up the doctor to make an appointment, and the soonest they could get me in was in TWO MONTHS. The good thing about that is that the two months is up next week--or is it the week after? The bad news is that Jeff and Jake have had to live with me like this for too long now, and I think they're considering moving out. Or doing me in. Or at least putting me in a cage in the back room somewhere, but then who would clean the toilets?

‡If you translated this swear out of its censored form and back into English, it would read “Swarthy Mother of Biscuits! Crunch-Worthy!!!” ...just in case you ever wondered what I was trying to hide behind all those ampersands and exclamation points.

Contest the Second

Y'know I can't stop at just one contest. That's no fun. So, I present to you the second Halloween contest for this year:


Here's the deal with this one. I'll post a picture, YOU write the caption. (And by "caption," I mean a caption, a thought bubble, a title, whatever text you see fit to apply. I'm not picky.) I'll even post more than one picture, so if one doesn't strike you right away, you can try another.

Now, for some pictures:

Picture 1 by artist Joe Olson:


Picture 2 by artist Kevin Keele:


Picture 3 by...oops. I have no idea where I got this one:


Leave your captions in the comment section, or email them to me.

For each entry you submit, I'll put your name in a drawing for a HALLOWEEN PACKAGE!!! So the more you enter, the better your chances, right? (No limit on number or frequency of entries.)

Oh, and if you want to put a link to this contest in your sidebar of your blog, here is the HTML (don't add it as a picture--add it as HTML or the link and the animation won't work):

<a href="http://muskadillo-dreaming.blogspot.com/2008/09/contest-second.html" target="_blank"><img src="http://i160.photobucket.com/albums/t193/muskadillo/captioncontest_small.gif" border="0" /></a>

Have fun. (And if you haven't submitted an entry for the other contest, do that, too.)

Original, untampered-with image of Death by Alex Fleisig;
lame thought bubble by me.

I'm No Economist, but...

...does anyone else find it scary that the only way the government has to bail out the banks (who are in trouble because of credit problems) is by borrowing 700 billion dollars?

Hmm. Let's see. So because the nation is living on credit, our economy crashes, and we're going to fix this by extending our credit even further?

I don't get it. And it's just too scary to think about.
*shudder*

So, to cheer us all up, here's a trailer for--no, not a Halloween movie--but a good ol' feel-good family favorite:

Hey! It's FAAA-ALL!

That's right. It is now officially fall. And you know what that means, don't you?

It's only...




More specifically, that means for the next six weeks or so I'm going to be having a little bit of Halloween on my blog, starting with a contest. (Jeff said to wait at least until October 1st, because some people will get sick of it, but this is my blog, and I can do what I want with it. So if you don't care much for Halloween...I don't know. Come back in November?)

Okay--let's get down to THE CONTEST!!!

The Three Fates Need YOU

Did any of you catch the Three Fates post I did last year?

Do you remember the Three Fates Web Site?
(Click on the picture to go!)


This year, the Fates came to me and complained that their site needed some sprucing up. Actually, they threatened to...well, cut my life short if they didn't get what they wanted. They promised that the end would be uncomfortable and messy, to put it mildly. Part of the conversation went like this:

Clotho: We need some serious attention.
Wynne: AAAAGH! Where did you come from?
Atropos: And more death.
Wynne: You scared the crap outta me. Do you always go sneaking up on people?
Lachesis: And I could use a few more numbers...
Wynne: What are you doing in my house, anyway?
Atropos: And more death.
Clotho: I need more fabric, y'know? The stuff I've got is old and no longer chic.
Wynne: This is really weird.
Lachesis: And I'd like more variety in how I'm able to weave the fabric...
Wynne: I don't get it. Why are you here? What do you want me to do about any of this?
Clotho: Get me more fabric, Lachesis needs different lengths, and Atropos wants more ways for people to die.
Lachesis: Duh.
Atropos: And do it or I'll kill you now.

Yeah. Freaked me out. But what it boils down to is this:

• The Fates want more options when assigning Fate to mortals.
• I don't want to write any more for them. (I did that last year.)
• So I'm asking you to do it for me.

1. So take a look at their site, and write some text to go in those boxes.
2. Email it to me, or leave it as a comment on this post.
3. There will be prize packages* awarded to a lucky few.
4. I'll update the Fate's Web Site with your text in it.**

****ALSO: I'm not choosing winners by content. Each time you submit an entry, your name goes on a slip or paper and goes into a jar. You can submit as many entries as you want. (So the more you enter, the better your chances of winning.) I will be drawing from that jar at the end of seven days. I'll empty the jar. Then I'll take more entries for the next seven days. So if you don't get something the first time, maybe you will the second time around. Or the third.****

Got it? What are you waiting for, then? My fate is in your hands! (Please don't fumble.)

Oh, and if you want to put a link to this contest in your sidebar, here is the HTML (don't add it as a picture--add it as HTML or the link and the animation won't work):
<a href="http://muskadillo-dreaming.blogspot.com/2008/09/three-fates-need-you.html" target="_blank"><img src="http://i160.photobucket.com/albums/t193/muskadillo/fates_contest.gif" border="0" /></a>

*At this time, I have no idea what will be in these prize packages. Something Halloweenie, sure--but what? Candy? A severed hand? Week-old toast and toenail clippings? Only the Fates can tell...
**IF I LIKE IT. That's right. You can get a Halloween package for free, but to get your text on the Fate's page, it's gotta be good.

Gettin' Jiggly With It!

I've never been a girl with many curves. I've always been rather noodle-y, as a matter of fact. Long and thin...and limp. Here, a self-portrait of me as a kid:

See what I mean? And it's never changed much. Here's another portrait updated for when I hit puberty:

There. Not much curvature, is there?

Well, have I got some exciting news for you! After some 30-odd years of stick-straightness, I've got some curves!

Well, okay, just one.

And it's not the desirable kind of curve. It's just belly-fat. Buuuut—it's fun! It's squishy, it refuses to stay within the confines of a waistband, it's wrinkled (thanks to Jake) like a raisin that's been soaked in water overnight, and it jiggles like...well, you know.

So I recently took some preemptive measures: I joined a gym. It's been 5 years since I've had a gym membership, and...I find it just as intimidating and odorous as I ever did. I mean—c'mon, I'm a NOODLE. I've never been athletic to any degree—I've NEVER been able to do a cartwheel (no matter how many lunches I devoted to trying to master them in the fourth grade); I'm more likely to get the ball into the other team's goal then my own; I can't even walk down an empty hallway without running into the walls and injuring myself...seriously. I have a scar on my forehead from tripping over a dog (the dog was unharmed). I have another scar on my lower lip from tripping over a blanket (the blanket was also unharmed). I am a menace to myself and to anything else within twenty feet of me.

And if that isn't enough, I also sweat like a pig on fire. Seriously. The sweat pours like Niagara Falls, or Tammy Faye's mascara—I'll soak a shirt completely through in fifteen minutes.

I feel a little guilty walking into the gym and NOT wearing a Surgeon General's warning on my back.

And not only am I threatening the lives of all those around me, but it's just plain humiliating being a noodle in an aerobics class. First of all, the aerobics teachers are ALWAYS small, compact little people with the only enormous thing about them being their chests and their enthusiasm. Little cheerleaders, bouncing up and down with so much energy and satisfaction in what they are doing it makes me dizzy.

Next, they put mirrors on all the walls, so there is no way I can escape the comparison: a roomful of people, so athletic-looking, powerfully jumping around and kicking the air and smiling—for Jiminy Cricket's sake!—and then there is me, with an expression on my face that looks as if I'm trying to pass a horseshoe, bobbing up and down like a 12-year-old Irish boy in his first Riverdance tryout. Sigh.

I'd just skip the aerobics, but I know I'm too lazy to be trusted to do anything else. (I'd walk for 5 minutes on the Stairmaster, and then say, wow! I'm bushed! and spend 50 more minutes reading a book in the car.)

Anyway, I'll be going back. Again, and again, and again. Please wish me luck, pray for the innocent bystanders, and hope that when I fall down (which is inevitable) I'll be able to take down at least a few overenthusiastic exercise-enthusiasts with me. Curse them.

Puppy Love: A Confession

This particular post has been sitting in the drafts folder for a few months. I've been reluctant to post it because I know it's going to get me in trouble.

*sigh*

But I'm going to have to tell him the full extent of this sooner or later...

*ahem* (girds her britches)
I may as well do it now.

You know one of the best things about springtime? Besides the slightly warmer weather and flowers coming out and all that?

BABIES.

Baby bunnies, ducklings, kittens, puppies.

Oh, yeah. Sweet fuzzy love...

I have to admit, I really enjoy animals. And baby animals are especially enjoyable (they're too young to stink—have you ever noticed that? A puppy rarely has bad breath, and a kitten is one of the softest bits of fluff ever.)

Back off the digression—> So, back in Centralia, I was friends with an uber-friendly black lab named Jojo. When she heard Jake and I walking by her house on one of our rambles, she'd run out to meet us (there is not a fence that man has built that could keep this dog in her yard) and walk with us for a long way. Usually, she would follow us back to our house and hang out in the yard. Sometimes she would go home after a little while, but sometimes I would go outside a few hours later, and she'd still be sitting on the front porch.

So I got in the habit of giving Jojo a ride home in the car just to get rid of her. (We couldn't just walk her home, because if we did, she'd follow us home again. The car ride was brilliant solution to an overly-friendly dog problem, if I do say so.)

Bonus: She loves car rides.

Wrench in the gears:
Jeff: "You've been doing what?"

Jeff didn't like me giving Jojo a ride home. I guess I can see his point: she sheds, she doesn't exactly smell like she has a bath too often, and it's pretty likely that she has fleas...okay, I get it. Don't give the dog a ride home in the car anymore. Which means, avoid dog because she will follow us home and hang out in front of the house for hours. Okay, got it.

But guess what?

Jojo had puppies.

Making her irresistible.

The good thing about this is that the puppies were too small to go anywhere, so if we went to visit her and her adorably wiggly brood, she would not follow us home. She would stay at home with them like a good mom.

Jake gettin' some puppy love

So this past spring, we went by Jojo's a lot.

(Another thing about the home where Jojo lives: apparently, they like dogs. They have about ten of 'em: a daschund, a chocolate lab, another black dog that looks like a cross between a collie and a lab, two bulldogs, and all the puppies. And all of them are escape artists. Even the puppies had figured out how to worm their way under the fence and come meet us at the side of the road. Very convenient for us. It kept me from hopping the fence and trespassing.)

Anyway, the last time we went to Jojo's, almost all the puppies had been given away. There were only two left. But it's not like we were missing out on doggie love—all the dogs knew us at this point, and ALL the dogs would come out to get a good scratch.

When the time came to go home, we told Jojo goodbye and started to walk away.

But she followed us.

So did her two puppies, who were much older at this point, and ready for an adventure.

The chocolate lab followed us, too.

So did the black lab/collie mix.

So did the daschund.

Mercifully, the bulldogs felt like taking a nap.

What were we to do? You can't shoo them—they just laugh at you with their tongues lolling out. You can't put them back in their yard and close the gate—they just get out again. (I tried that about three times.) No owner was home to distract them. I finally shrugged and went home, hoping that they would get bored and go home.

They didn't.

It was like I was the Pied Piper or something—six dogs and one child trailing me—and I don't even line my pockets with bacon!

As soon as we got home, I loaded them all into the car to take them home again. (What else could I do?)






Once we got them back to their house, I opened the doors and let the dogs flow out into the street...and some poor guy just happened to be jogging past. His mouth dropped open, and a few of the dogs immediately ran at him and started barking. I called the dogs off, and apologized to him, and explained they weren't my dogs—at which point he decided he was dealing with a complete loony and ran away. (I suppose it must have seemed pretty funny to him watching all the dogs come out of the car like clowns in a tiny clown-car at the circus. And he must've thought I was a dog-napper. Or something.)

So we delivered the dogs safely and went home. And I did not tell Jeff about our adventures.

(Honey, if you're reading this, I can safely promise you this will NEVER happen again. See, Jojo lives in Centralia, and we live in Spokane! I'm pretty sure she's not going to follow us home anymore.)

Did you know...?

...that Michael Phelps will be hosting the season premiere of Saturday Night Live?That's right. He is.

Main questions I want to know: Will they let the poor guy actually wear a shirt? Every time I see him, the kid is nearly naked, and that must get pretty cold.

Also, what kind of skit will they have him in? Maybe something like this?




...that if you rearrange the letters in "Barack Obama" they spell "Maraca Kabob"?



...there are still some people out there who haven't seen Napoleon Dynamite? Namely, OMAR. Omar has not seen Napoleon Dynamite, which is why he doesn't understand what a liger is, and why it is stalking him.
Omar, your only hope is to vote for Pedro. Then Pedro offers you his protection.


...that there are only 61 days until Halloween?
Yessssss.

...that Teletubbies, a show for wee children, has its moments of...well, unintentional humor? Jake and I were watching it long ago, and Jeff walked into the room when the following bit was on. He laughed, and kept laughing.




...that since McCain has announced Sarah Palin as his running mate, Tina Fey is jumping up and down for joy and planning a return to SNL just so she can play her in upcoming skits?

...that I had absolutely nothing to blog about today?