BBC Choices and Snow

I don't know what snow has to do with anything, but it keeps coming down so who am I to argue with nature?

When I was Junior in high school I had the most awesome teacher ever for English. The first day of class she stood up and told us she would be the most fair teacher we would ever have because she hated all kids. I laughed. We got along just fine from that point forward. I have been told that I can be a little argumentative at times. I don't think I was any different at sixteen than I am now at...older than sixteen. Annoying to friends, but it made for some lively discussions about literature during my schooling years. And years, and years, and years. Ms. Curtis and I were *ahem* "discussing" a book one day in class and she finally said, "Carol, you are a bleeding romantic!" It stopped me short. I hadn't ever thought of myself that way, but I haven't forgotten it since. Over time I have digested that accusation and decided that I whole-heartedly agree. I am a bleeding romantic. I try to believe the best of people. I think that things will always turn out good in the end. I believe that people can find love with someone who fills up every empty place inside and that kind of love can last forever. I am not naive, though, because I know that there is evil and ugliness and hatred in the world. People can be cruel and selfish and hurtful. I just like my life and my mind better when I try to focus on what makes me cheerful instead of what makes me depressed.

Things like little boys in jeans. I just want to pinch their cute little cheeks. Any of them.

Or my cool sister who likes to be behind the camera instead of in front of it. 


So in light of this potentially-gag-worthy optimism, today is a day of celebration. Bring on the snow. Bring on the storms. I am heading down to be with some amazing friends this evening and I can't wait. For certain the girls will outnumber the guys, but I hope the guys stick around. We will subject them to BBC drama of the highest caliber.

This one? Every one of the four hours is worth is waiting for him to smile...

Or this one?

Hello my new Jane Austin crush.

Finally, an Edward I can get behind.

The face-eating scene makes me laugh. 

Probably not an appropriate response for one of the classic gothic stories of all time.

I don't know what the evening will bring, but I am sure to enjoy the company.

Gettin' A Little Culture

Sometimes a gnome gneeds a little culture. So you hop in the car...

And you take a drive.

Before you know it, you get to a valley of happiness surrounded by really big mountains.

Really big mountains.

There might be lines, but no worries. You have a ticket.

And an iPad. But you will have to give it back. Because that is the right thing to do.

Studying the works of a great master makes one stop and contemplate the works of another great Master.

Modern art. Does it take a special kind of mind to "get it?" I don't have that kind of mind. I don't get it. All right, maybe the symbolism is there and can be understood. But do I want that in my living room? Not exactly. I would end up hanging laundry from it or something else that would offend the artistically sensitive.

Thinking about art makes all the blood rush to my stomach and makes me kind of hungry.

Yes, please. I'll take one of each!

Mmmmmmm.....

Drink or swim? Drink or swim? It's very important to stay hydrated. Gnourishment is gnecessary.

We are happy to be here. Yes we are.

And then the breadsticks come. A forest of breadsticks. A plethora of breadsticks. A gaggle of breadsticks. A murder of breadsticks. A dive of breadsticks.

Other people get excited about breadsticks too. Did you notice some of those have cinnamon on them? Hands off. Those are mine...

And that is how you get some culture.

The end.

It was Bound to Happen

Have you ever known one of "those people"?

(I don't know if the quote is supposed to go outside of the question mark or inside. And I am not going to go get my Chicago Manual of Style to find out. Sorry.)

Those People are the kind who always know more than you. And do it better than you. Or maybe they just think they do. And then they tell everyone about how great they are. All the time. They "know things" about, well, not just stuff. About everything. They know about how long it takes to acclimatize to the altitude when you climb Mt. Everest. Because they showed the Sherpas the right path to take when they started the expedition up the wrong side of the mountain. They can tell you how to build a life raft out of duct tape and they can weave a sail out of their own back hair so they won't ever be stranded on a desert island.

Today one of Those People let it be known that I can't do my job as well as they can.

I'm shocked. I'm surprised. I never thought this day would come.

Well, actually, yeah I did. Because I still don't know how to weave a sail out of my own back hair. Dang it.

A Sign from the Universe

Sometimes you find inspiration in the most random places. You are driving down the street, and someone has a bumper sticker that strikes a chord. It changes your life, the way you see things, and forever alters your view of the universe.

I saw a sign like that today. It's message was simple. But so profound.

And here all this time I've been thinking torture was ok, so long as you exercise a little moderation. Silly me.

(Seriously, I couldn't stop laughing...)

It's Not That Bad

When I get anxious that spring isn't coming as quickly as I would like, when one more storm is blowing in after the last one just finished, I can remember that it could be worse.

It could look like this outside of my window. So I'm glad the sun shone for just a little bit today. Long enough for me to pull up the blinds and lay in the light. I can't say warmth...so let's go with light!

Playing in the Park, Tiptoeing through Tulips

It was beautiful here on Saturday. The short people and some of the taller ones took advantage of this by walking to the park. We spit at bugs flying through the air, and stomped on ants on the ground.

This little man loved the swing, but only for about five pushes at a time. Then, "I'm done!" and back to the big toys.

She had a hard time picking which of the play areas to choose. We went back and forth a few times.

These floating poles were a little further apart than the 2-year-old legs could manage, so mom was close by to help.

Isn't that shiner awesome? No one knows exactly how it happened, but I think it had something to do with how one aunt taught her to run and slide in her socks...

Today there was a little less sun. And even though there was no rain ACTUALLY falling, he still wanted his hood up. And he wanted mine up too. When you smell the flowers once, it's ok. When your aunt wants you to smell them again because NOW she has her camera, this is about as good as it is going to get.

First we picked some flowers for Grandma. And hopped all around the garden on the conveniently placed pavers. And hopped again. And again. And chased the dog. Who happens to be faster than 2- and 3-year-olds.

We tried one without the flash.

And one with. Just in case you think he is actually giving the flower to me, not so much. I just needed to hold it. So he could go back to hopping.

Mom got the flower. The little man got broccoli. Does that seem like a fair trade?

Later, we went on a walk around the block. It was too wet to go to the park, but there were still plenty of worms to look at on the sidewalk. Quote of the day? "Eeeeew! Yuck! I wanna eat it!" This was said about the ants and the smashed and semi-dried worms. They may have stayed out of his mouth, but many of those worms got peeled up off the pavement and chucked. At the cars. At the trees. At the grass. At his mom. Because he can.

On a Lighter Note

I figured something out today. Mothers with small children (two to four...lets say) may not have elaborate hairdos for a reason. Short, yes. Sassy, yes. Simple, yes. Lots and lots of bobby pins keeping it just the right shape? Maybe not. Why? The 'do probably could handle the park with the swings and the slides and the races. It might have even made it through the peanut butter sandwiches with grapes on the lap. But I don't think it would make it through the wrestling. When the munchkins come at you full speed and want to crawl all over you, jumping and smashing faces together in the most awesome of kisses, those carefully placed pins pop right out. Add a round of tickling in there with flailing little arms, and that pretty much seals the deal.

I think the same rule applies to aunts. At least that is my story and I'm sticking to it.