Cyber Monday Bum

So, I've been shopping for more than four hours now, and what have I to show for it?
Numb buttocks.
And this album:


It is $1.99 on Amazon today, along with 4 others. 

Merry Christmas to me.

Have you found anything good out there on the interweb? Please share.

Love, Kelly

blogging from my bed, day 1

So tonight, Jake turned on the heater for the first time this season. He must have been pretty cold, because he's been a little jumpy since last year, when he turned on the heater without warning me, and I woke up in the middle of the night, yelling and accusing him of trying to kill me.

Now, I don't remember this episode at all, but still, it sounds completely rational. I don't like all the dust and accumulated crud of the summer (March to November) that blows out of the vents. Plus, I was pregnant and sick (remember the bleeding eye balls?), and it was late. A person might threaten violence and then completely forget about it. Happens all the time on The Mentalist.

That guy has really nice hair.

So anyhow, I'm sitting here filling my lungs with dust mites and probably worse, but I'm totally keeping my cool. Because this year, I'm well and even fit into two whole pairs of my pants.

I've also got some news. I've figured out why I don't blog anymore. It's the ipad. She's my mistress. I used to have to sit down at the computer in the office to check my mail or google stuff, and then I'd check over here for comments, and I'd be stuck, like a spider in a bloggy web. But now I check my mail from my bed, and I check out the new Colin Firth movie- where he plays George VI, a stutterer, so he hires Geoffrey Rush to be his Speech Therapist, but apparently Colin has no problem stumbling over the four letter words cuz it got an R rating for language, dangit- from my boudoir as well. But typing on the ipad is pretty awful, unless I leave out all the capital letters, so I only mentally post things, which isn't very interesting to the five of you who still check in on me from time to time. So tonight I broke out the wireless keyboard. I am blogging from my bed.

It is like a dream come true.

I am also eating Thanksgiving dinner numero three in my bed. It is delicious. My Mom thinks pumpkin pie is baby food but I think it tastes like a holiday in a flaky pastry crust.

Our friends the Westons left for Utah this morning. We were sad to see them go, because they are very nice and like to groan over tasty food like we do, but also because Kari kept cleaning my kitchen. Kari, when we come to visit you in May, you know, if Bono's back is healed properly, I will clean your kitchen very thoroughly.

The kitchen was very slimy with my delicious gravy, since we hosted the festivities yesterday. 53 guests, including 29 children and one small lizard, who is still on the loose in the living room. Jane took a photo. I'll add it when I get near a real computer.

How was your turkey supper? Did you shop today, or did you nap and eat turkey like me? I really want to go to Ikea to check out their Christmas wrapping paper, but I'm afraid of the crowds.

A minivan by any other name would still smell like old fries.

That's me (and my van)

And sweaty kid, cold greasy tots (from Wacky Wednesdays at Sonic), already-licked grape Tootsie pops, that ham sandwich inside the brown paper lunch sack that is lost under the starboard captain's chair, feet, and a little Johnson's Baby Shampoo, if you're lucky.

Oh. And Febreze. (Lipstick on a pig.)

Unless you are elderly (why do the snowbirds love the minivans?), or obsessive compulsive.

I love my van. I used to promise my college roommates I'd never drive one, but now I'm out and proud. I love every inch of it, even the cracked tail light, from when the lady got hit in the Costco parking lot in Las Vegas before she sold it to us on Ebay.

I have really grown to appreciate my tiny little van, because lately I've been cruising in this:

Yes, that's our school bus. A 12 passenger Ford. We share it with my sister for carpool.  It is BIG, and our kids love it. We are planning a road trip to Nebraska in it next summer. So in case you were wondering exactly how how cool the Beeswaxes really were, now you know:

not very.

And now my 1991 Acura Integra is in the car spa (Wes' Auto and Diesel), where Fred (car) got all new suspension and a new distributor, which will cost approximately two-and-a-half times what he is actually worth (which ain't much). It is his 20th birthday gift. I got him new in November 1990, back when I still wasn't cool, but looked it, cuz I had a fantastic car. It even lured my husband to me, and for this reason, we keep it, as a very large, garage-space-hogging symbol of our deep, undying love.

That smells inside like an old boat.
And the ghosts of 2,000 drive-thru In-n-Out burgers. Animal style.

*****

Overheard at book club last night: "If you start talking about the book, then we're leaving." And then they did.

 I'd like to spend the wee hours of every Friday morning out in front of the Paradise Bakery chatting about Queen Esther. And, you know, other stuff.

I don't know why I haven't blogged in a month. I miss it. See you soon.

Love, Kelly