My little weejie.

(For a long time, Brock couldn't say Kate's name and called her "Weejie" and the nickname stuck.)

Growing up, I loved to be in my room. It was where I'd work out dance routines to "Let's Hear It For The Boy," alphabetize my books and make collages for friends.

Kate, on the other hand, can't stand to be alone in her room. Because of this, she is by my side all the time.

I admit that sometimes I need my space. I've been known to get flustered when I'm trying to work and she's chatting away. (Yesterday's topics ranged from dog breeds to Halloween costumes, to why we haven't invented a more concise word for up-side-down.)

But this summer, when she spent a week at her grandparent's house, I realized how much I missed her constant companionship.

I also get a kick out of seeing parts of me in her. Take for instance, grocery shopping. For as long as I can remember, I never take the first item off the shelf. Instead, I take the third or fourth one behind it. I feel like the those in the back are somehow more superior.

So when I was waiting in the check out line recently, I realized I had forgotten cottage cheese. I sent Kate to grab it and when she returned she said, "Don't worry. I took the one in back."

I don't remember ever telling her about my odd shopping habits, but over the years, she picked up on it and now practices it.

It's so nice to have someone emulate you so well — down to the littlest detail.

Filter Follies

To the average person, this is just a box of 100-count coffee filters.
To me, they represent the future.
"Where will I be when the filters run out," I wonder.
This is common neurosis of mine usually plays out when it involves something in the near, but not too near future. I don't wonder who I'll be the next time I have to buy cereal— that's too frequent of an occurrence. But when I get my oil changed and they slap on the reminder sticker in the upper corner of my dash, it makes me ponder.
Usually, I picture the "100-day into the future Erin" thinner, smarter and all around more together.
But it never works out that way. Typically, the future Erin isn't much different than the current one —give or take a few pounds.
This recent filter purchase stopped me in my tracks though. A quick calculation showed that the next time I was due to buy more filters, I'd be just a few days shy of my 39th birthday.
Which only leaves a handful of coffee-filter packages between my thirties and my forties.
I just about broke down in aisle four.
Yep. I'm approximately five coffee filter packages away from turning 40.

Where have I been, you wonder?

Let's see...

1. I got a speeding ticket — first one since I was in high school.
2. Brian accidentally stepped on our baby rooster and killed it. (A sight that will forever be seared into both of our memories. Luckily the children weren't home.)
3. Drama in the neighborhood over a semi-permantely parked RV.
4. Our pets continue to relieve themselves in inappropriate places.
5. I still hate packing school lunches.
6. I have socks older than the number of months left until I turn 40. (16 months and counting...)
7. I am constantly amazed at the number of shoes I see along the highway. How do they get there? Child-size shoes I understand: (Toddler + Shoes) Open Car Window = Chances are good your child will leave the car with one less shoe. But what I don't get are the adult shoes on the side of the road. Do that many people forget they put shoes on the roof of their car and drive away?
8. And speaking of shoes, lately I have spent a fair amount of time pondering the Middle Eastern custom of throwing shoes at elected officials in protest. After the event, do people retrieve their shoes? That seems like such a waste...

And that about sums it up.
How are you?

Not so perfect...

Kate (thinks) she is always right. She usually is, so it's rather amusing when we catch her making a mistake.

We were discussing things that we are afraid of and K said "man-agains."

"Man-agains?" I asked.

"Yeah. You know. The fake people in stores."

Oh how cute. And, her version does make more sense.

We had a good chuckle at her mistake. And she was a good sport.

So, we really laughed hard the other day when we were shopping and she made the mistake again.

I wonder if "man-agins" will become her version of "amblee-ance." I have never ever been able to say that word correctly. Even when I think the word out, I still can't say it properly. In fact, when I had to call 911 the other day because we worried Brian was having a stroke after his surgery, I had to say "medic" instead of "ambulance." I was afraid the operator wouldn't know what I was talking about....

13....oh my!

Raise the roof...a teenager is in da house! Can't believe my baby boy is now a teen.

We threw him a low key, pizza/movie party last night. His first boy-girl party since he was three. It went surprisingly well. It was a nice group of kids. I think having a mix of genders kept the party mellow. No one wanted to be the obnoxious boy who burped the alphabet.

I stole this picture off of Brock's facebook page. This is his his "girlfriend" and I mean that in the most general way. Although Brock wouldn't admit it, I think he was really nervous having her over. It was cute to see him being shy and bashful.

Change: constant.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about change. And how it can be so gradual. Who hasn't felt completely overwhelmed with an event, only to later look back and think, "Why was I so freaked out about that?"

Like being a new parent...I remember thinking what have I gotten myself into? Will I ever feel "normal" again? Will I ever be able to shower? Go out? SLEEP? And guess what....Time passed and I figured out how to shower on a regular basis and time to time actually slept through the night.

But at the moment when the new born was home for the first time, I felt completely out of whack and overwhelmed.

I adapted. I changed.

Or when I moved. I wondered if our new place would ever feel like "home" and then one day I pulled into the driveway after a long day and thought "Home sweet home." How did that happen? My good friend change helped.

Benjamin Franklin said: When you are finished changing, you are finished.

So as I get ready to flip the calendar over to a new year, I will embrace the changes that come in 2011. It proves I'm still ticking.

Am I on candid camera?

Have they decided to relaunch the oh-so-funny show?

So after a long day at work, (which should be it's own blog entry. I realize I haven't given it proper props. Quick summary: working at a local community paper covering lifestyle and culture of the county. I am thrilled to be finally putting my journalism degree to use....and get to meet some interesting and kind people that I otherwise wouldn't have met. I'll write more later.)

ANYWAY....so it's Christmas Eve-Eve and I'm finished with work and stop by the grocery store for a few things and find out they are out of butter. I need butter. I have to make my grandmother's famous potato recipe and it practically uses a stick of butter per serving. How can they be out of butter?

I'm heading home, feeling happy (but yet frustrated with lack of butter) when I receive a call from Brian.

"When are you going to be home?" he asks. I tell him I'm about 5 minutes away.

"Okay," he says. "Don't park in the garage though. The dogs peed all over the presents under the tree and I've stacked them in the garage."

WHAT?? Wait a second....what???

So, yes, I come home to urine soaked gifts in the garage and a mess under the tree. Upon discovering the pee, Brian realized it had soaked under the adjacent rug as well. The dogs (and by dogs I mean Lucy, the repeat offender) must have used this spot for awhile, because there are now LARGE pie-plate size black spots on the wood floor from where her urine sat, unnoticed for days? weeks?

Breathe. Breathe.

Meanwhile, I go to investigate the gift damage. Luckily, most items were wrapped in boxes so the actual contents were okay. I did have to wash a few items of clothing that Brock was receiving. "Merry Christmas! Your gift is in the dryer."

Now, Brian and I have to rewrap the gifts. But do we really? Would it be wrong to traipse in and out of the garage when it's time for another gift?

This morning, probably because they were jealous that the dogs received all the attention for the present fiasco, I woke to cat pee on the mud room floor.

Remind me again why we have pets?

At least the cats had the decency to pee on flooring that is easily cleaned.

Once I cleaned up the early morning pee, I go to get a cup of coffee only to find that the coffee maker isn't working. And the Christmas lights aren't working. And the fridge is off. And gosh it's cold in here. Oh of course! The heat won't turn on.

Okay candid camera. Show your face. Don't ruin any more of my Christmas.

Just incase, I'm bracing myself for the next logical event: the crashing of the Christmas tree.

It's really only a matter of time. The tree we happened to pick out leans a bit (okay a lot) to one side. Straightening it out involved using stacks of magazines and free weights to hold down the base.

Merry Christmas everyone!

A Public Service Announcement:

It is perfectly acceptable to begin decorating for the Christmas Holidays. It's wonderful to spread cheer in your neighborhood with festive lighting and whimsical characters.

However, please remove the rotting jack-o-latern from your front porch, and the scarecrow sign from your front door. You should never-ever-ever overlap holiday decorations.

As cute as the pumpkin bag stuffed with leaves once was, when you break out the moving reindeer, it's time to retire the pumpkin.

Thank you for your understanding.

I've never....

I've never played a round of golf and I've never run out of gas. I realize those are two completely unrelated activities, but one almost happened yesterday.

When I went to go run some errands yesterday afternoon, I turned on my car in the garage and saw this:






That's right. 0 miles 'til empty.

Perhaps I should have stayed home, but I was feeling daring and decided to go ahead and push my luck. Plus, the gas station is less than two miles from my house, so if worse came to worse, I could be one of those poor souls you see carrying a red gas-can down the highway.

Of course, the stop-light-gods were working against me. I had to stop and wait at the two stop lights between my house and the gas station.

I turned off the heat and the radio. I am fairly certain that the radio runs off the battery, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to turn it off.

I coasted down hills and up hills as far as I could go.

I was living on the edge.

AND I made it. Suckers! 0 miles 'til empty....whatever! Now I know how far I can push my empty gas tank. I wonder if it will display negative miles....because what's the point of 0, if they don't really mean it?

Crossed the line.

When I worked in retail, my Thanksgiving holidays were always a bit "sad". I knew I'd have to be rested and ready to open the store at 6am for those Early Bird Specials. As much as I dreaded it, it was at least doable. Now days, stores are opening on "Black Friday" earlier and earlier....I've seen advertisements for 4am openings.

But this takes the cake. OPEN ON THANKSGIVING! Is nothing sacred anymore? I lost some respect for Old Navy on this one. I believe they are under the impression: Open and they will come. I urge you to resist the temptation for screaming deals on fleece and denim. Wait until the civilized hour of 4am on Friday. Instead, spend Thanksgiving hanging out with those you love, or at least can tolerate. Trust me. You will remember those moments for a much longer time than the $2 Hoodie your scored while your turkey charred in the oven.