New way to waste collossal amount of time!

I love my factory-installed GPS system so much she needs a name. I have the Garmin and she has always been "Garmina." But this one has no obvious name and I really can't address "someone" who is so helpful and enjoyable as "that thing," or "the GPS system." It's wrong.

With a car full of people listening to her melodic voice announcing that there would be traffic ahead (as we sat in traffic) we tried to pinpoint WHO she sounded like. Glinda? There were others, but I didn't like them. None of them seemed right.

Then over Christmas someone came up with the name "Trixie," and I thought we had it. "Come on Tricks, tell us where to go." But no. I listened to her today and she's just not a Trixie. She sounds more dignified. And yet ... you can't name your GPS system Queen Elizabeth either ... or can you?

No. I'm the queen, and I'm not abdicating my throne for the ... woman in the car.

So, I decided to do what I do best: look it up online. I typed in "do you name your GPS," and came across several threads where people had indeed, named them! The most common was Sally, and I will admit that crossed my mind. But a long time ago during a Colorado ski trip, a bunch of us started using "Sally" as a way to describe a weenie. As in, "You're such a sally," and well, it won't work in this case. There was Lola, LuLu, Gertrude, Judy (lots of Judy's) and apparently Lola is from some Robin Williams movie where the RV he was driving was named Lola. The three I have written down are Gertie, Millie and Fiona.

What do you think?

Or, Journey?

Penny?

I have just spent scads of time looking up potential names. I've gone through Greek Goddesses, Saints, Celtic Goddesses ... Nehalennia is the goddess of guardianship and offers protection to travelers ... and Jizo (jee=-ZOH) is the Japanese diety guardian of women, children and travellers.

OH I don't know. Jizo is a male thing, I don't want that. And it's not a male voice. I think I am liking Journey. JorNEY.

Carry on my wayward friend ...

Hmmmm.

Flying now means no peeing

Now all the guy in the black has to do is sneak up and smash the guy in the back of the head with his shoe. Oh, that's right, the shoe has been scanned and is not considered to be a lethal weapon. Hmmmmm.

Oh geesh. Now due to this stupid guy (potential terrorist or just plain nut case) not only do we have to take off our shoes when flying on an airplane, we also can't leave our seats an hour before the flight lands or have anything on our laps.

Will this solve anything?

No, of course not. But it will make it look as though something is being done. Though the truth of the matter is that little is done to thwart terrorists; all the pleasure is forwarded on to passengers, who have to pay the price by pretending that not going to the bathroom an hour before the plane lands will actually result in the saving of lives.

It might end up in wet seats, and how lovely a thought is that? Or irate passengers with Montezuma's Revenge running for the tiny little closet to relieve themselves before they shit their pants. In other words, if you want to blow yourself up, it is highly unlikely that the airlines will ever come up with the solution. What does seem to be the largest solution of all is other passengers.

In this situation, a male passenger sitting several seats away dove onto the guy. Let's face it. We were a different flying bunch prior to 9/11. We didn't look at every passenger as a potential terrorist nor finger our belts and keep in mind that if anything looked sketchy we can rip them off and start whipping the mini-knife toting religious nut jobs. I don't think a plane full of people will ever again sit quietly and wait to crash into a building. Knowing that their lives are at stake, I think the sheer number of passengers versus nut jobs is always going to be a factor in any future attempts. The same thing happened with the shoe bomber -- he was instantly jumped on by fellow passengers.

All planes these days are full. If you have some guy sweating through most of the flight and mumbling sweet Allah's, then it is your moral responsibility to keep an eye on this person. If they come out and attempt to light themselves on fire, then knock them out!

Why didn't this guy light himself on fire in the rest room is my question? Because he really didn't have the capability to do anything major, perhaps? But the sole act of going through the motions and starting himself on fire would put the airlines on high alert and then pass on the obnoxious "safety procedures" onto passengers?

That is what I think. I mean, what was the point of returning to his seat and alerting other passengers to his actions? He could have quietly and with no intrusion done so in the lavatory and no one would have been any the wiser, right? You telling me that the same party who put together the grand scheme that resulted in 9/11 came up with this as their next great act? I don't think so.

And I am so thankful that I have no imminent plans to fly in the future, because I swear to gawd, if I had to take a pee and was told I had to remain in my seat, I might just possibly lose my cool. I put up with the stupidity of taking off my flip flops so that all the things I could have hidden in the 1/4 inch of material can be detected in the X-Ray machine; )but on the other hand I always put through large containers of hand cream, shampoo, ice packs, water, etc. just to prove that I can and that it is a flawed system and it just makes me feel better about the shoes!) And I've watched as the security measures have been relaxed and I guess someone decided that wasn't right and so they did this?

I don't know. All of this just has too many holes in it to be construed as a major terrorist attack. And we no longer have any media source that is actually capable of getting the real story. I have run through dozens of outlets and the story is all over the place -- from lethal explosives to powder that is used in hair products and tucked into camera batteries. And then those stories are followed by commentary that makes me actually understand why some people hate people so much for their beliefs. The whining that this is because of Obama is sooooo stupid. No, when Bush was president NOTHING happened. Nope. Not a thing. Oh, but I did discover the name of the book that Bush was reading on that fateful 9/11 morning. Something about a goat. Good fricking lord.

That is my opinion and I am sticking to it.

Sometimes you just knead

I remember the first time I made bread. I was a kid, junior-high-aged. We had gone to visit this family who lived in the middle of nowhere in an old farmhouse. I didn't think it was so terrible that they had an outhouse; I found everything about their lifestyle wonderful. The woman made her own bread, and she was in the kitchen, wearing one of those wooly thrift shop sweaters and she cut us all slices. And I remember that it was the most delicious thing I had ever eaten.

With this imprint, I decided that I too, wanted to be like that. Except, I didn't want to live in the middle of nowhere with no money or facilities (I don't even know if they had electricity) or even wear those sweaters because I found them scratchy and confining. So all that was really left was ... the bread.

My mother always let me do whatever I wanted in the kitchen. If I said I wanted to make something, she was all for it. She didn't care if I made huge messes or even ruined pans. With that kind of freedom, believe me, I made my share of messes and ruined a number of pans! So, I pulled out the yellow cookbook (not sure whether it was Betty Crocker or not, no, that one was red) and looked for a bread recipe. Sounded easy enough. I followed the recipe like a religion, and because I didn't know what rising was, I didn't really know what to look for. My first loaf of bread was really dangerous. It was so hard you could have killed someone with it.

I tried a different recipe. You see, when something doesn't come out right, then I become obsessed. And I was obsessed with making the perfect loaf of bread. Each subsequent loaf was a teeny bit more edible than the original "brick," and we would all sit around and spread massive amounts of butter on the loaf out of the oven because if we waited, it would grow hard as a rock! It wasn't good -- but it was hot and chewy and fresh.

Fast forward a number of years and I was in my own house and my baby was there and this domesticity took me over and I remember that woman in her house in the middle of nowhere. The bread! It was time to make the bread again. I was fully into making my own baby food and the idea of making all of our food was so sexy. So ... I decided to figure out what I'd been doing wrong all along. I had grown to realize that my recipes came out better if I didn't actually follow the recipe. So why not try that with the bread recipes? I had become an intuitive cook over time, and so I decided to become one with the dough.

I can feel it as though it was right now. Standing in front of my butcher block counter, a big blob of dough before me, Hallie hanging off the counter in her little seat (it attached to the counter) eating something and amusing herself with crayons and paper. The dough was everywhere. I'd used exactly the amount of flour the recipe had called for (and said "up to,") so I couldn't use more. Could I?

I started pouring flour onto the counter and kneading the dough. More flour, more flour, more flour. I kneaded (the recipe had said it would be done in five minutes) but I could tell the dough wasn't ready. I could feel this thing take me over, this feeling that I had been here before. I knew how to make bread. Deep within my DNA was the formula for bread making. I kneaded and kneaded until sweat broke out on my brow. It felt amazing. It felt ... so right. And then, the dough changed. It went from this sticky mass to the most beautiful, light and satiny being. It felt alive. It was the most incredible experience.

I put the flour in an oiled bowl, covered it with a tea towel and waited for it to rise. But our house was cold. The dough sort of rised, and it was surely the best loaf of bread I'd ever made. But I knew it could be better.

I experimented more and more, learned how to use the stove to create a warm environment for the rising dough and when I'd reached the point of light, fluffy loafs, I had to stop. Because I couldn't stop eating it! It was delicious. But it didn't last very long (it would get hard) and it suddenly seemed like a lot of work for a product we didn't really need.

But every time I make something that requires me to knead -- I am always drawn into this zone. It makes me wonder if I was a pioneer woman in another life. It feels so incredibly natural and right. As though I've done it a million times before. I know exactly when the dough is right (and believe me, it is NEVER anywhere near what the directions have explained!)

Today I am making an onion tart. I think it may literally have been years since I last kneaded dough. I had forgotten how amazing it is -- how it makes me feel.

Is it possible that I was born to knead?

Amazing Dance

There is something so magical about watching people use their bodies to create this type of motion called dance. I am mesmerized by it -- and there is a new level of dancing that I believe began with Michael Jackson and the moonwalk -- which has been taken so far beyond that. The way they throw themselves into the air, or pump themselves up on on hand or create that robotic motion -- it's just beautiful.

And I love to see young people taking their bodies to this level. It takes such passion and determination and it's amazing to watch. I have been very much drawn to this feeling as of late. I love to dance and when I really get going I will turn the music up super loud and I will leap and pirouette about the house as though I actually AM a good dancer. I will pretend I am a ballerina and I will spin and demi plea-A and I will bow to the audience and of course, I am amazing.

It is such an incredible feeling -- even with only an audience of dogs who don't understand why I keep bumping into them. Dancing and singing create joy -- they really do. Sometimes I will forget to crank on the old iPod and belt out songs at the top of my lungs until I am spent. And only after I have done so do I chide myself for waiting so long to do something that makes me feel so good. It's a great stress reliever. Nothing like heading up to Charlie's room and turning on the karaoke player and pretending I am the bomb. I close my eyes and become one with the microphone in my hand. The world is my stage.

Today I was driving in a blizzard (number two of the season, we're really kicking it off!) and I had Taylor Swift going at a high decibel. Peter kept looking at me, and I realized it was because normally I sing more or less under my breath when he is in the car, but I was driving and trying to keep my mind off slippery roads, so I launched into the best diversion I could! At one point I said, "you can always drive," but he chose to pretend I wasn't bothering him instead. Whatever works!

Look below Cookie Cutter Post!

I started one yesterday and then saved it, and finished it today, and it ended up posting below the Cookie Cutter one -- so if you are checking quickly to see if there is anything new, you won't think so. But there is! Just look beyond the cookies.

Always beyond the cookies.

Cookie Cutter Post

It all started, as many stories do, with a mitten.

My friend Liz and I were grocery shopping at the pricey Co-op in Hanover when we came across the cutest decorated Christmas cookies. They looked beautiful and we were both especially drawn to the one of the mitten. It was a light blue color and had a little decorating going on, but not much. The cookies were like $6.95 a piece, and well. Who is going to pay that?

BUT! How hard would it be to make them ourselves?

All in a day's work.

Hence began the adventure. First we had to find the mitten cookie cutter. Where does one go for cookie cutters? We found nothing in the big box stores but scored in a small kitchen store in downtown Hanover. There was a mitten -- but not a big one. Hmmmm. But we each picked up a handful of other shapes and sizes (they were a buck each, we couldn't resist!) We also inquired of the saleslady if they had any decorating gels. She said no, but we should check out King Arthur Flour in Norwich. Oh cool! I've always meant to go there, but never have.

Not the perfect blue mitten I envisioned. NOT EVEN CLOSE!

So over the bridge to Norwich we went, and entered the world of UH OH. When two people who love to cook walk into such a store, all bets are off. I refused to get a basket because I know myself. I said we should just get the gels and leave. But I was gone at the first shelf ... full of all sorts of cool things to make bread. I decided I would make rye bread, and looked at the ingredients I would need. By the time I reached $20, I started putting things back. I don't need to make rye bread that badly, seriously, the store-bought stuff is just fine!

Then we saw the cookie cutters. OH NO! They were beautiful. Why does it matter? I have no idea, but there it was, the copper plated mitten. I scanned around for a price and on the wall it said that cookie cutters were $4.95. Being me, I quickly figured that I'd purchased four cutters at the other store for a buck each, which was ridiculously cheap, so if I picked up the mitten and the moose for an additional $10, that was about $15 for six cutters. Not the end of the world, right? (Now remember, this was to avoid shelling out the exorbitant price of $6.95 for a store-bought cookie!)

I admit I went back to the front for a basket, and proceeded to fill it with various and sundry items, including a boxed mix for vanilla sugar cookies. (I am telling you, I should not be allowed to go into such stores. I need a bib for all the salivating.) There were these cool boxes that you could bake in that were attractive, perfect for those baked gifts. There was a pina colada scone mix I had to have after sampling it. Yummy. I don't know what else I got. Crazy.

Every batch of traditional Christmas cookies always includes a moose, a camel and a high heel shoe, right? That red mitten makes me wince.

So baking day was yesterday. I mixed up the contents of my box and put the dough into the fridge where it needed to chill for at least an hour. I then did a few errands and arrived at Liz's with my little dough discs around 2:00. We began to roll them out. She had made a batch the day before, because while I was out driving around in a blizzard, she was safely tucked inside behind closed doors baking. I examined her results and was impressed. But she didn't have the big mitten -- I did -- so our big goal had yet to be met. That of course being re-creating the mitten cookie we so coveted.

It's one of those things -- you see the high heel cookie cutter and you think PERFECT! You see the high heel shoe and you think .... WHAT was I thinking???

With Christmas music playing in the background, we cut out our cookies. It was fun and in no time we both had the cookies ready to frost. While Liz mixed up a batch of frosting matter, I played around with the color gels. My red looked considerably like blood. I couldn't get the blue to match the blue that darned mitten that started this all was, but whatever. First we put a base coat on all of the cookies. It takes a ridiculous amount of time, and I was NOT happy to get a phone call from Charlie at 4:00 asking to be picked up. But I was making cookies! So, I took a nearly two-hour break to get him, pick up pizza, drop pizza off at home and then return to Liz's to finish the project we'd begun oh so many hours earlier!

Black frosting should never be introduced to any cookie baking project. Ever.

For some unbeknownst reason I had envisioned a mitten with a white base with black piping. Liz made the black frosting and was immediately repulsed! She also made a lot of it, so we found ourselves putting black frosting where black frosting shouldn't have gone! Then she got a little crazy and mixed up orange. And all the blobs of orange didn't look good with any color. But we were a little deranged at this point (and we'd had a few glasses of wine). Then she mixed up some brown so I could paint my camels -- I said that if it looked like chocolate, it shouldn't be too gross! HAHAHA. They look fine, but it is still a sugar cookie drenched in confectionery sugar icing! Ick.

Not even close, this blue mitten is proof that you can't always do it yourself!

When all was said and done, I was just depressed. I am a decent cook but I am no baker. I mean, I can bake, but I can't decorate! There, that's the problem. I believe that I am a creative person, and therefore able to recreate anything I see. This isn't really the case. My cookies looked as though kindergarteners had done them in ten minutes. As opposed to something we'd spent fricking HOURS on!

And there weren't even THAT many. Oh, we will never begrudge the person who made that cookie the measly $6.95 they charged for it. What a bargain! And the karma in all of this is that the mitten cookie cutter had cost ... $6.95. I hadn't noticed the teeny tiny writing on the back of the package.

When making Christmas cookies, it is wise to stick with traditional shapes and colors. These I dare say, aren't even hideous!

Between the cookie cutter purchases, the gels, the kit that Liz bought so that we would have decorating tips and bags, the decorations for the cookies, the mixes, and the little spatula Liz insisted would be perfect for the cookies, I am sure we easily spent $50 if not more. All to save $6.95.

Panic fades into oblivion

So today appears to be the day I panic and feel as though I don't have "enough" for everyone for Christmas. I do, however, feel as though I have been spending, spending, spending. Though on what, I am not sure! There are not piles of presents to be opened ...

So that was yesterday morning. And then I was sidetracked by the cookie cutter post and let this one head into the drafts folder. And now I will explain how much things can change in a day!

I felt as though despite the fact I'd been shopping a number of times and had packages arriving on a near daily basis, it wasn't enough. Why is this?

Then Peter called and said he was going to a (certain) store and I thought, that is odd, because I had the same store up online and had two items in my shopping cart, but had hesitated to push the button because I wondered if I could find these items somewhat cheaper at the actual store. So when he said he was going, I told him to look for those items and let me know. He called and said he had found them, and had also found the thermometer thing I was looking for for my father, should he get it? Well hell yeah! When he arrived home he had the exact same items that I had in the shopping cart in his bag (I had never described them to him) and he said it wasn't much of a choice, they were the only two there so he got them. And they were almost half the price of what I was going to pay. FOR THE SAME EXACT THING! So that is why I didn't push the button -- I KNEW!

In the meanwhile I had wrapped another present for both kids (after I realized I had them) and then after I wrapped what Peter had bought, I felt as though they were now on the other side of too little! And the best part of it all was that I just let it all sit and didn't freak out or rush to the mall or whatever. So now, with the exception of a few items (stocking stuffers, that damn stocking is so hard to fill when you don't want to put a ton of candy in it) I am done and feel good about everything! Phew! Such a far cry from how I felt yesterday morning, when it seemed that for all of my efforts I hadn't achieved anywhere near what I wanted to.

The other really nice thing was having Peter do some of the shopping and the moment it arrived I wrapped it up and it was DONE! Very cool. He of course did the same exact thing I do when I leave the house -- purchased a number of items for himself! I had to laugh. I said that it was good for him to realize that I didn't have an actual shopping problem, I just had a problem of being in a store and finding something perfect and not taking it home with me! But since he obviously had the same experience, it is so very clearly NOT JUST ME!

Now as long as I don't find him making cookies it's all good! Last night we sat by the fire and sipped champagne and toasted to another successful year while the kids were at a hockey game. We called it our mini-staycation!

Cheers!

One foot and counting

Now that is what I am talking about! A true blizzard, a fabulous way to jumpstart winter. While it was quite enjoyable hiking around in near 60 degree weather for the last part of November into early December, it felt a bit like cheating.

Now we have about a foot -- and it's still snowing up a storm. Of course the fact that nearly every school in the state cancelled didn't stop us from driving our kids to their schools -- which never get cancelled. Maddie's school is right down the road, no big deal, but Charlie's is normally a 1/2 hour one way and today it was double that. If I wasn't stuck behind a plow, I was plowing the road myself! Yikes.

The moment Charlie got home he shoveled the walk per my request then jumped on the snowmobile. It's pretty wild that in one day we have enough snow for that! We were just plowed and there are five-foot snow banks! Love it.

So we got a new car a few days ago and I am still in that getting used to it stage. I still don't know where everything is and there are still bells and whistles I haven't discovered yet. It is a newer version of the Sequoia we turned in, so some things are the same, but not many! And it feels SO MUCH BIGGER. Yesterday while I was driving around, instead of flying into a parking space, I went in with much more hesitation. We put the old and the new car side by side and it is NOT bigger, but they did some pretty fancy configuring because I am telling you, it's an illusion! So in my mind it feels bigger and I am not yet confident of its size and abilities.

So. Now I get to take it out into blizzard conditions! Well, yippee for me! The old Sequoia was really amazing in the snow; and is one of the key reasons we decided to get another one. This is actually our third. We have had just about every enormous SUV out there -- the Suburban, the Expedition (toyed with getting the Navigator more than once, but that felt insanely large and over priced) and the Sequoia, which is truly the most comfortable car (large-sized SUV) on the market in my opinion. And I am picky! So when I would test drive a car, I would then climb back into the old Sequoia and it felt better than the brand new one I'd just been in. That tells you something. That was, until I tried the new Sequoia! Gosh, I hate spelling that. I had at last found the car that beat the Sequoia in comfort. Except, it was a Sequoia and I'd sworn I wouldn't get another one. (I swore that when we got the second one too!) Why? Because it's so damn big and I do not have a call for such a beast on a daily basis.

But ... let me tell you, I have done some crazy assed driving in snow (like driving to New York City in a blizzard last year) and the Sequoia is AMAZING. This morning I was very apprehensive because I didn't feel as though I was one hundred percent there in terms of my comfort zone in driving the car. So, we drove around (instead of plunging head first down the mountain) and while the roads absolutely did suck, the car went through no problem. I started to feel a little better about it, but again, I still didn't know how touchy it was in terms of braking or even what it felt like when it slid. After I dropped Maddie off, the ride back was fairly benign because I was behind a long line of cars going too slow. Can't get in too much trouble in that case. Then I pulled into my road and prepared to gun it ... it's a STEEP hill and it hadn't been plowed. I was ready to rock and roll. Except that there was a truck coming down. DAMN! I had to hit the brakes. The car went into a slide (controlled by more beeping and flashing lights than I'd ever seen) and stopped in plenty of time. The truck rolled by and I gulped as I glanced up the hill. Could I make it without a running start? I didn't even know how much speed I'd get in this NEW car ... but I figured, might as well find out.

No guts no glory, I hit the gas and off we went. I was waiting for ... well, in no time at all I realized this car wasn't being challenged at all. We were flying up that hill like butter! I yahooed a few times and slammed into the snowbank at the end of my driveway, then realized, since the driveway wasn't staked, that I had no idea where it was! I drove it over the lawn and into the garage! Success!

Then I had to go pick up Charlie. And I told myself I had to go DOWN the hill. I had to. I had told myself last year during that blizzard ride to NYC that NOTHING should ever scare me again in terms of winter driving because I'd driven through it all that time ... and it was all nothing compared to that.

Well, this wasn't nothing. It was snowing so hard they couldn't keep the roads plowed, and as I passed from town to town I would hit various degrees of plowed roads, right up to probably hadn't been touched in a good hour. At one point I was the first car in a long line of cars and I couldn't IMAGINE how they could be going so fast. I was having a hell of a time going through it ... I was definitely getting thrown all over the place as it was so deep. And when a car came toward me I would have to go off into unchartered territory and that totally sucked. But I realized that I was literally making a path for them -- they were just following my tracks!

When I arrived at Charlie's school, which also happens to be on a hill, I chose the wrong side and discovered that it hadn't been plowed. In fact, a guy who was shoveling his sidewalk looked at me like I was nuts for even trying. But I wasn't scared. My confidence in my car was growing by leaps and bounds.

By the time we drove home, the roads had all been plowed fairly recently and it was no big deal at all. Though the kids could not believe I drove through the snowbank at the end of the driveway! They were both screaming YOU'LL NEVER MAKE IT, and I said, oh yes I will.

And that is that story. Now I am off to make meatloaf and I intend to sit by the fire later and string cranberries and popcorn. Because ... it 'tis the season.

The wellness of PMS ????

There's nothing like a day when you are hopped up on PMS hormones to get a few things (or a dozen) done!

The morning started out with an actual sleep-in, where I couldn't sleep. I laid in bed and tried to decide if I was going to tackle the pantry or mud room today. These are both PROJECTS and need the right frame of mind and the perfect day. Since it was pouring, it seemed like that day had come.

I drove Charlie to school in a mad pouring rain storm and about halfway home there wasn't a cloud in the sky and it was sunny. It was like a post-rainstorm wonderland out there. The dark, wet roads reflected the blue sky and it was beyond surreal. Like driving your car in a lake. I couldn't keep my mouth shut I was that much in awe. There were raindrops clinging to trees with the sun streaming through them creating mini rainbows by the thousands. And me without a camera. Well who knew? It's been rather dull and gray out there up until this morning's Disneyland. It was wild!

Then I realized it was actually hot out! I actually considered taking the roof off the Jeep, not only to say I did so on December 3rd, but because it was actually not that unreasonable. It was obvious that there was NO WAY I could do anything indoors, so instead I decided to go on a nice long walk -- and the dogs were so hot they actually went swimming. Bizarre I tell ya.

Once home I got down to some serious cleaning, the old down on your hands and knees scrubbing type cleaning. Every spot in the rug got zapped and attacked. Every dead fly carcass was sucked up and I even took apart the vacuum cleaner because it was running in a peckish manner. In the meanwhile I had laundry going non-stop and I wrapped a bunch of presents. Then when Peter walked through the door I insisted we go pick out a Christmas tree.

I mean, typically we wait until it is frigid cold and the poor tree needs to thaw out for a few days. Why not go out on a balmy 65-degree afternoon and get one? Especially when the pickings are less slim! So we found a lovely 10-footer, threw it into the back of the truck, and I assumed it would hang out for a week or so before we put it up, but when he suggested what the heck, let's put it up now, I ran in and rearranged the living room and then helped him carry it in. Wow! A true first. We never get it up before the week before Christmas.

I am not saying it is decorated. I have cranberry and popcorn strings to make (and it appears that once again I will be doing it alone as Hallie is my only willing assistant!) It's a big tree. It's gonna take a while!

Then I went through all of my ski stuff and repacked it because we are headed up to Maine for a ski weekend. Not sure what the conditions will be like, since it hasn't really been very wintry yet, but I am looking forward to hitting the slopes. Again, very early this year, I don't usually get out until after Christmas. I guess we are ending this year with a bunch of unusuals!

The thing about this hopped up PMS jig is that when it is up I get hit with the opposite: Total and complete lethargy and the inability to determine how I will make it through the day! Ahhh, well, not that bad, but man, talk about making hay when the sun shines or whatever the saying is! I get it! I embrace it. I am one with my cycle. In fact, in my gleaming house that smells like evergreen, I look forward to dropping on the couch and enjoying it all!

Did I mention I got a bunch of presents wrapped today? I am so unlike myself. I like this self. Hello, would you like to stay for a bit longer?!!!!