Here are some of the things that I should have blogged when they happened, in the past month of two:
Even though dreadfully ill, Hatfield and I managed to rally and we rang in the New Year 2013 as a family. (And ooooo. . look! A ZOMBIE family at that! Even Instagram couldn't get rid of those Walking Dead Eyes.)
Our friend Sara and her boy Ethan throw THE BEST New Year's Eve Dance Parties ev-ah.
We just couldn't bring ourselves to miss it (especially me. 8 consecutive days in bed, sick, and I was ready to be shipped off the the looney bin. I didn't need that party for my physical health. I needed it for my mental health.)
Shortly after New Years,
Lordy Lordy Look Who Turned 40!
I think that saying is terribly cheezy, but the Mister loves it.
I think RIP gravestone over-the-hill cakes are tres cheezy, but the Mister loves them.
I think plaid and faux fur unabomber hats are just about the cheeziest, but guess what? The Mister loves them.
SO, the Mister got a whole lot of LORDY LORDY coming at him, and his VERY OWN GRAVESTONE cake, which he ate in his VERY OWN PLAID AND FAUX FUR UNABOMBER HAT, all because We Love the Mister.
He looks pretty fine for 40, don't you think?
After my birthday, the snow arrived. And with it, the discovery that although the girl looks islander, acts islander, and dresses (just) like (her dad) an islander,
Sacre bleu! Her blood runs on the Tundra side of things (the picture reads: I love snow). My genetic material does live on, after all. Who knew!?!
And last but not least, Look! Look!
I finished the
"Oh my God! Put some slippers on! You're going to wear out holes in those socks!"
Because I may or may not have scared Atticus into never wearing his handknit socks again. At least not without a lot of coaxing/pleading/reassuring that his neurotic mother will not be angry if there is a hole in them.
And it only took me what. . 9 months? 10? 311 days? But who's counting? (not me!)