Halloween-Edited Version

This is the Haunted Mansion of Josh and Kimmy the Magnificently Ghoulish.

We turned our friends and loved ones loose in this place for fun, frolicking and fear.

Fear of being the first one to spill on the floor.

It was a festival for the senses. Music, spooky lighting and things that go bump in the night, or into a wall, or down the stairs......

These two flew in from NeverLand.

This one came up from a fiery chasm.

These two traveled down from Olympus.

These two flew in from flight training with their instructor.

I have no explanation for this.

Sometimes people get hurt on Halloween. I'm just sayin'.

And that's all I'm sayin' about this shin-dig. Anything else is not suitable for a family friendly site, such as this, and same goes for the rest of the pictures.

So let's move on to the lighter side of our Halloween.

She is super cute and she charmed candy from a great many.

Me-yow!

Don't Tell Martha

This is my Grandma Shirley.

She is loving, kind, a great cook, and very artistic.

She has made myself and all her other grandchildren(and great-grandchildren) afghans, quilts, hand painted knick-knacks and ornaments, and various other lovely and thoughtful things.

She also crochets.

This is an entirely different announcement about her creativity because when she was a little girl she put her index finger into a meat grinder and lost the end of it.

People told her she would never be able to crochet without the end of her finger.

Not that I personally would know anything about being strong willed in the face of adversity, but just to make her point that she could, she mastered crochet.

She has tried to teach me, but I have some sort of mental block about it.

Anyhow.....

In case your wondering which branch of my family tree she sits on, she birthed this man.

I call him Father, or Dad-Ums, or Old Guy.

He too is artistic, but in an analytical, symmetrical, mathematical way.

That is something I have a major mental block about.

But back to crochet...

Grandma Shirley has taken to crocheting these. Yes, by hand, without a pattern, or supervision, shocking, I know.
I then take them, starch and iron them into submission, and pin them in shadow boxes that I decorate to match the decor of the room they are in.

Very girlie, no?



Here is the "family" one. Made to go in our front room that houses our black piano.
Isn't it amazing that she whips these puppies out?
So don't go telling Martha about us, or she'll want to put us on the show, elevate us to extreme celebrity status, and market us as a household name.
We just don't have time for that.

Busy Days

She loves to keep an eye on the goings on.

She shrieks and waves at all the walkers and their dogs.

They all wave back.

She can do stairs now.

The baby gates are down and she tries to fit in one good tumble each week to remind herself to be careful going down.

No major injuries to report.

And she has lots of teeth.

6 to be exact. She still doesn't get steak, but I'm sure she'd find a way.
I just don't know how this all happened. I took the advice. I savored every moment I could. And now she is a willful, independent, sassy little girl.

She love pretties and sparklies and stops dead in her tracks to see glittery toys and clothes!

That's my girl!! She inherited "Shiny Object Syndrome"!

Help Me With This....

My child is a vivacious, free-spirited and engaging little toddler.

She make friends everywhere she goes.

In every parking lot, aisle and checkout lane of every place we run our errands she has her peeps. She also has a special sixth sense for the essence of grandpeoples. She squeals and blows kisses, smiles and plays coy. It would be utterly shameful if it wasn't so adorable.

But here's the thing. I am always willing to share all her stats with her admirers, but more than half the time I get: "What color are her eyes?"

To this question I answer: "You tell me."

These pictures aren't quite right, but close.

Are they green? Hazel? Golden-ish-something-or-other?

I never know, and they change according to her wardrobe, lighting and stage of temper tantrum.

Help me. I want to give an answer based on popular opinion.

If you want to take a closer look for research purposes, click directly on the picture and it will pull up full size in a new window.

Dear Sister

This is pathetically late but, Happy Birthday!

You turned 29 the day before Violet's 1st Birthday, and I was so busy I never even got you a card. I know you don't care, and that you were excited to have your birthday in such close proximity with your niece, but I am still ashamed.

This is my public declaration of that shame.

I managed to post Birthday wishes to our brother's on the exact day of their birthday's and really that is sort of silly since I don't think they even look at this blog...

So here is your belated wish, I know you had a great one.

And since I'm obnoxious, here is a picture of you I really like, though I'm sure you don't.
I like when you make that face.

Love, Sister

What Day Is It?

This was my daughter a year ago. I want that year back. She is running, telling me no, and trying to drop her morning nap. We are all well and alive, and I promise I have many entertaining and/or profound posts planned. But not until I find the year I lost, and figure out where my daughter hid the toilet paper and my glasses.

And the mustard. I can't find that either.

I Know, I Know....

I'm busy. That's my official excuse.

I went from psycho daily blogger, to my daughter turned one and no one knew about it.
Here are some shots of the festivities. Violet splashed so much she sent her baby friends sobbing from the pool. I have officially become "that Mother"

Ahhh, well......
Next kid........................or next life..........................