A Farewell to 2011 and My Wish for You in 2012...

I'm having trouble believing that this year is coming to a close. As I get older, it seems as if you blink and a month has gone by. Other times, it feels like some months (especially the hot ones) will never end. 

I turned 32 this year. It's been relatively good to me so far, if you don't count the gray hair. 

It's funny how life hands you the unexpected. Relationships rebuilt, others destroyed or left to fade on their own. Kids who swallow marbles or drink half a bottle of Dimetapp. There are the unexpected blessings of checks in the mail just when you need them the most or a car full of paper towels, toilet paper and sixteen jars of Skippy peanut butter. You find that your marriage has gone from being almost completely destroyed to stronger than ever, and all because you opened up the lines of communication.


This year, I've found myself back in church and involved in a Bible study group. I am kinder with my words (if you don't count last night, when I yelled "could you please move, because I've already had to sit behind you for fifteen minutes while you, Miss Brain Surgeon, attempted to order fast food and I have things to do that don't involve smoking crack and blowing my boyfriend."). I am less likely to lash out at my children. I have found patience in ways I never thought I could, forgiveness where I never expected to and indifference where I used to feel hatred. 

Not that this year has brought me perfection. No, I've been shown just how completely imperfect I am. But, 2011 has shown me that I'm okay with that, though I don't think I'll ever stop trying to be better than I am right now (you can forget the notion of me letting my house go). And let's face it, I'm kind of awesome.


Some things never change.


So as this year ends and another begins, I wanted to give you the list of things I wish for you in 2012. 

1. I wish you peace. Not just in your personal life or relationships or even in financial peace. I hope that you can find peace within yourself. That you find that you are happy with who you are and where you are in your life. 

2. I wish you joy. A joy so tremendous that nothing can quiet it. The joy of children, marriage, prosperity. I hope that you find joy in your friendships and joy in those little things that we don't always notice. Sunrise and sunsets, the way your husband looks when he hasn't shaved in three days, a good meal cooked by someone you love. 

3. I wish you good health. Physically and mentally. 

4. I wish you forgiveness. Because there are few things that feel better than letting go of those things that we all tend to hold on to for far too long. 


5. I wish you good friends. We can never have too many of those. The people who stick by you when you're at your worst and rejoice when you're at your best. I hope that you find friends in unexpected places and build lasting relationships. 


6. I wish you luck.


7. I wish you better Presidential candidates. 


8. I wish you laughter. Because this is one of those years where I've been so very thankful for a house full of it.


9. I wish you love. Our lives are so empty without it (and I wish that you don't automatically don't start singing I Will Always Love You...the Whitney Houston version). 


10. And finally, I wish you clear skin, good hair days, dental health and days upon days of no bloating! 


Happy 2012 friends! May it be even more awesome than 2011!

Fridays with Bob

Ok, let's be honest. I do a terrible job of blogging regularly on Fridays. Now I know why BFG recruited me for this job -- Friday is the WORST day to blog. It's the end of the week; you're totally focused on the weekend (or, if you're like me and work an alternate schedule, have already STARTED the weekend every other Friday).

Moreover, all those great ideas bouncing around in your head that you were TOTALLY going to put in the BEST BLOG POST EVER? Yeah, should have written those down, jackass, because you totally do NOT REMEMBER THEM NOW. I could blame my advancing age for that, but there is really no explanation for why I can remember that Ted Williams hit .406 in 1941 while going 6-8 in a doubleheader on the final day of the season rather than sit out and guarantee that he would finish with a .400 average (39955, to be exact). Why do I know this? How come I can remember this rather than when the Future Mrs. Bob tells me to get milk, eggs and whatever that other thing is at the store? No idea.

But yeah, that's what being the Friday blogger is like. I missed last week because I was flying, and I'm posting early this week because I'll be flying again. I had hoped to get up to BFG while I was home in Houston...maybe give you kids a special treat, like a live Q&A or a video of us doing shots while the twins filled up our glasses or something, but let's face it -- anything live would have required some notice if we hoped to get any questions, and they haven't yet made the camera lens that goes wide enough to fit my fat ass into the picture with a second, normal-sized human being. That and it would look awkward with BFG standing and me sitting so that both of our heads were in the shot.

Being at home with your parents for a week (oh, and my crazy sister who was nearly molested by a divinity student in college -- long story) is kinda like an enforced return to childhood, only now I know better. In other words, it's a modification of the same arguments that I had back then, only modified for the fact that I now support myself, am gainfully employed, etc.

It's not that I DON'T like being back; it's that, like parents and children worldwide, we've never quite learned how to adjust our relationship. It's like building a Lego Death Star in the dark, with three fingers and with someone else constantly in your ear telling you that your doing it wrong even though they can't see what the fuck is going on either. I always think it will be different, always come home for too long and always end up biting through my tongue by about day three.

For a bonus degree of difficulty this year, we also have my father's younger sister, who is unable to care for herself, entertain herself, go two minutes without whining and oh, by the way, is unemployed after a small mistake where instead of taking three antidepressants, took three sleeping pills and went on a demolition derby spree (her license is still suspended from that little hootenanny). Have I mentioned that I leave tomorrow morning yet and that 11:55 AM can't get here soon enough? I have now!

That said, coming home is totally good for at least one thing, no questions asked: the food. Washington, DC has good food and a nice variety, but there are just some things that pseudo-Yankees don't get, don't do or that they haven't been able to master yet. Now this is a good thing, mostly, because if they did, I'd look like this, this or maybe this instead of just this, but that doesn't mean that I don't miss the following places dearly. For our Friday Five, I have put together a by-no-means comprehensive list:

5) Whataburger: Ahh, Whataburger. I totally have a soft spot for the Big W, dating back to college when they were A) the first place to take credit/debit cards at all and B) were the ONLY fast-food joint open 24-7 (c'mon, biscuits and gravy AND onion rings at 3 AM without having to go into the Ol' South?!?!?! IT'S A NO-BRAINER!!!). Let's all go enjoy the Whataburger story and then go out for a Triple Meat Whataburger with bacon and cheese, a large onion ring and a large Diet Coke. Aw, fuck, make it a large chocolate shake...I have a t-shirt on underneath this shirt, it doesn't HAVE to button...

4) Luby's Cafeteria: Bob Luby's vision, now owned by the Pappas family (whose kids went to Houston's Memorial High School with my mom), was a childhood favorite. When we stayed with Gagoo (my pronunciation of "grandmother" -- which stuck), it always meant a trip to Luby's! And when you were at Luby's, there was ONLY one way to go -- the famous LuAnn platter! Chicken fried steak (or fried fish), mac and cheese, fried okra, with a dinner roll -- and we always got a side of Jell-O and chocolate milk to boot! Ok, replace the Jell-O with chocolate cream pie -- yeah, I was chunky as a kid, how did you guess?

3) James Coney Island: Don't get me wrong -- I think that Ben's Chili Bowl in Washington, DC, has perhaps the finest intestine-encased meat/pork product topped with cheese and chili that I have ever deep throated: the legendary Half Smoke. However, again going back to my childhood, James Coney Island was the reward for sitting through an hour and a half of Episcopalian mumbling. First as a squirmy child, then later, until college, as an acolyte (think alter boy, minus the groping by a half-in-the-bag Papal-approved child molester), the second-best part of after church (the first was, during the fall, NFL football) was the trip to JCI for two with chili and cheese and a chili cheese fry. Read the history of the Greek immigrants who started the chain here. Yes, I did outgrow a lot of clothes as a child...why do you ask? Hey, it's because I was TALL...they were called husky sizes because they were so sturdy, right?

2) Guadalajara Hacienda: No visit to Houston is complete without a solid Tex-Mex meal. My choice for Tex-Mex? Guadalajara, with their convenient West Side (West Siiiide location. For me, the obvious choice is their cheese enchiladas, for which just a taste of I would push my mother in front of a moving bus. Sorry, Mom...but their enchiladas are REALLY good. The Enchilada Combo, with one cheese, one crispy beef taco and a Tex-Mex empanada is great way to get a wide variety of food. Their fajitas are top-notch...hell, I even had a salad there once (the San Miguel Caesar) and it was good. I usually have to pay, then hang out for thirty minutes or so before I leave. Part of that is to let my meal begin to digest; the other part is to wait for the crowd to thin so that less people see me walking out with my pants unbuttoned. I think they shrank in the wash again...I need to start using the cold cycle.

1) Hickory Hollow: Some of you may have seen the piece about this restaurant on the Food Network's "Outrageous Food" program; I've been going there since high school. A little joint down in the Heights (they also have two other locations), they have all kinds of BBQ, which I'm sure is good. They also have steak, po-boys and (gag) vegetable platters, for the weak-hearted among you who are watching your cholesterol, want to live past 100 or who aspire not to provide shade for Little League teams with the shadow cast by your gut hanging over your waistband.

Not being one of those people (well, kinda, but you'd have trouble telling), I can assure you that there is one primary reason to go to Hickory Hollow: the chicken fried steak with Texas river bottom gravy. With the "top" level priced at $13.99, it's a value that could feed a family for several days...or fill my belly in one setting. The steak comes in four levels, all served up on old pizza pin tins -- which could be a bad sign for A) your diet B) your New Year's resolution C) the button on your jeans/the seams on your pants or D) all of the above?

The answer is D, all of the above. Let's go through the lineup.

Stage One: For the Yankees, Dallas residents and guys who order the beer other than Miller Lite in the ubiquitous commercials, there is the Small Cowgirl (Perfect for ladies). Since the good ol' boys at the Hollow know that you are "watching your figure," it comes with a baked potato (I suggest butter, bacon, cheese, sour cream and chives -- just do a couple of extra minutes on the elliptical) and a side salad. Don't worry; you'll still be able to fit behind the wheel after this one. Hell, you might have to order a snack for the car.

Stage Two: For those who feel a little more comfortable in their manhood, the next step up is the Small Plowman (Perfect for lunch). You won't feel like nearly as much of a pussy, despite the inclusion of "small" in the name, and you can go for the baked potato and salad or the fries/mashed potatoes and salad. Mashed potatoes is ALWAYS the way to go with chicken fried steak; just like with the grits at Cracker Barrel with Grandpa's Country Fried Breakfast, you can load them all over the steak to "sandwich" the gravy to the steak and make sure that nary a delicious drop lands on you rather than in you. It's a little trick that us professional fat loads use to keep at our fighting (a heart attack) weight.

Stage Three: If you have a job where you can sleep in the afternoon after lunch or if you're looking to follow up your dinner with a comatose state, I would point you in the direction of the Medium Hired Hand (Texas sized). Again, the smart play is to go with the salad and MASHED potatoes -- not just because it's cheaper, but because of the aforementioned efficiencies vis-a-vis food delivery to your gaping maw.

Stage Four: This is where ordinary men fear to tread; this is the grandaddy of them all, the undisputed heavyweight champion -- the Large Rancher (the Saddle Blanket). It completely covers the pizza tin (I think a 16-incher, but I could be wrong on that) so that the side dishes are just off to the side -- they're bumped off the plate entirely. It should come with a warning label, a signed waiver and a free quadruple bypass. Unless this is your last meal before going into hibernation for the winter, or your waistband is three axe handles wide (like mine), I would NOT suggest tackling this with anything less than the starting offensive line for your local high school football team. And yes, I keep an emergency pair of sweatpants, size 10X, along with a camping tarp in the back of my car...well, I did until I outgrew them. And the car. Fortunately, my cousin has a dump truck to haul me around in.

Well, this has been "Gustatory Journeys with Bob," with your host, Bob Turney. Tomorrow, come on down to Hobby Airport around 11 AM and you can watch them grease me up with Crisco to wedge the extra 200 lbs of me onto the plane after my trip home. It's good, clean family fun -- at least until they strip me naked for the Crisco-ing.

Until next time, peeps!

BlogHer Book Book Club: A Review of The Magic Room, by Jeffrey Zaslow

*This is a compensated review of the book The Magic Room. All opinions expressed are my own (as usual).

"A dad's job, we were told, is to remind a daughter of her strengths, and guide her into womanhood." (Forward, The Magic Room)

I stood on the front porch Sunday night, tears in my eyes as my father pulled out of the driveway to head back to his hotel. It would be the last time we saw him before they made the trek back to Milwaukee after spending Christmas with all of us. I hate saying good-bye to him, even though I know that I'll still hear from him weekly via phone call or text. But, being almost 1,000 miles apart from one of your best friends? That's tough.

And that was the moment I found myself diving wholeheartedly into The Magic Room.

Through the eyes of Zaslow, we are brought into the magical world of weddings and relationships, all centered around the small town of Fowler, Michigan and the Main Street store that has served brides from across the state since 1934, Becker's Bridal.

Becker's is no typical bridal shop. Sure, there are hundreds...no, thousands of gown selections. There are helpful employees and flowers and veils. The store is filled with the chatter of brides, bridesmaids, mothers and grandmothers. But there is something special hidden upstairs.

The Magic Room.

A room filled with mirrors, plush carpet, soft lighting and a pedestal. A room where mother and daughter are quietly able to celebrate that moment, that bond of knowing that this is the dress. It is a place where Shelly Becker Mueller, owner of Becker's Bridal (granddaughter to Eva, the original owner) and creator of The Magic Room learns the most about these families; and Zaslow does too.

From Eva Becker's brilliant ideas that put Becker's on the map, to Clark (Eva's son) and Sharon's own struggles with changing trends to Shelly's early life hiding in a "cave" of ivory slips and her own eventual takeover of the store, we learn about the delicate intricacies of family ties.

We are eventually introduced to six other families, each with their own ties to Becker's Bridal whether it be their first time to buy a dress, their second time, or as a grandmother or mother who's been through the process before.

Zaslow's ability to beautifully weave these sometimes heart-achingly wonderful tales in with the deep relationships girls have with both of their parents, as well as presenting the difficult truths about marriage and children is nothing short of amazing. Not only does it leave you wanting more, it forces one to reflect on their own relationships with their parents and cherish those moments and memories from the past. No matter how many or few there may be.

Moroccan Proverb: "In the eyes of it's mother, a beetle is a gazelle."
*Join us at BlogHer.com as we discuss The Magic Room!

Tuesday Ten!

I feel like it's been forever since I've had a chance to sit down and write. Christmas was such a whirlwind. It seemed as if the day was over before it even began. But, it was wonderful and I'm grateful for the time I had with my family. I even got to throw in some time with friends.

Anyway. It's Tuesday, and I guess that means it's time for a Tuesday Ten (and hey, thanks for all four of you faithful readers who tune in each week)!


1. I finally got brave enough to try on smaller pants yesterday. Thankfully, even with the 50lbs of bloating from all of the holiday eating, they still fit and were even on the baggy side. 


2. It took less than 24 hours for the boys to break one of their gifts. It took less than 48 hours to break two of them. I've decided I'm inventing a line of toys called Indestructible.


3. I totally fooled Andrew into thinking he wasn't getting the "big" item on his list this year. The look of surprise and excitement on his face was completely priceless.


4. I'm always surprise by the amount of people who are unhappy with what they have. Why would you go out and buy an item that's similar to or exactly the same as what you already have? Doesn't it seem like a waste to spend $200 on something you spent $200 on just a year ago? I don't know. I guess I don't get it. Or, don't have the disposable income TO get it?


5. I suppose wearing my Kermit tee four days in a row is a bit much. 


6. Dear Shutterfly: If I purchase an item in ample time before Christmas and am told it will arrive before Christmas, three days after is really not what I was going for. 


7. Wanna know what's super adorable? Three preschoolers decked out in new pajamas, fuzzy robes and animal slippers. 


8. This blog has become exceedingly LAME.


9. Trying to decide if I want to make the trek to Fort Worth to spend New Year's Eve with old friends. But, the thought of loading up four kids and a husband and driving for three hours seems less than appealing. 


10. Only twelve more days until the kids go back to school (not that anyone's counting or anything)!

Merry Christmas from Mr. & Mrs. BFG (and their crazy family)...

Wishing all of you a Merry Christmas! May it be filled with love, laughter and the warmth of family and friends!

A (Belated) Tuesday Ten!

Sitting here drinking a beer, wondering if anything is going to get done.

I think the answer at this point is no. Unless I want to be up for the next four hours on a cleaning spree. And I probably will, because that's the way I roll. Music on, booty shakin', arms a' scrubbin'. That's right. I'm living it up down here in the CS.

I spent the day on the couch nursing a headache. Which you know is exactly the way I wanted to spend my Tuesday afternoon. And when I wasn't doing that, I was sitting at the desk, hand addressing Christmas cards. It wasn't until halfway through my dinner that I realized I hadn't posted a Tuesday Ten for the week. I was just about to get up and come post, but I still had food on my plate and y'all know a fat girl can't leave leftovers!

So, anyway. Here's your Tuesday Ten!

1. I somehow cut my finger opening a bottle of BBQ sauce today. This, after falling in the shower yesterday and smacking my knee on the pedal of a stationary bike a few days ago. Things could be worse, I guess. 

2. This year, we were going to wear ugly Christmas sweaters for our family photos. It was a joke. And it wasn't until I started paying attention that I realized just how many people wear them seriously. My favorite ones have sequins and penguins!

3. Mr. BFG's sneezes are so loud and scary. And they make me feel stabby. 

4. I never knew part of the lyrics to It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas were "And mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again." But, I also didn't quite understand the meaning behind Don't it Make My Brown Eyes Blue until a few weeks ago, so you know. Yeah. True story.

5. I was all excited because I'd been wanting to get the Meep-Meep-Meep OPI polish. And I found it last week at Ulta. What I didn't realize is that I already had a bottle of it, given to me for my birthday last year under the name Let Me Entertain You from the Burlesque collection. Oops. 

6. I hate it when you address 60+ Christmas cards and only have 57 stamps.

7. The boys went to a Christmas party at Mr. BFG's office today. I guess they had a magician, because all I've heard about this evening is how that girl pulled a bunny out of a box and how awesome it was!

8. Always nice to see people from high school who still think picking on the less "popular" people and making fart jokes are still "funny." 

9. I'm going to be really brave and share our Christmas card later this week. Publicly. 

10. Less than 24 hours before my daddy is here! And, there will be less of me to hug! 

Procrastinators of the World, Unite! Later...

What is it about having a long To Do List that makes people like me (read: procrastinator) find a million other things they'd rather do?

Sure. I could go fold that load of laundry in the dyer. And, I could maybe try a wee bit harder to figure out how the eff I'm supposed to print envelopes via Microsoft Word. I should probably put clothes on my kids instead of letting them run around in Buzz, Woody and Mario pajamas. Plus, there's that whole Christmas shopping and cooking thing that everyone keeps telling me I need to do.

But, don't I still have like, five or six days before it's completely necessary or something like that?

I want to sit here and hang out in my yoga pants and sports bra. I want to make lists, not complete them. Who does that anyway? I want to listen to iTuens and download songs for my Workout Playlist (hello, everyone needs Eye of the Tiger). I want to make photobooks on Shutterfly and not order them and think about how many Oreos I need to dip in white chocolate and peppermint pieces to give to the neighbors. I want to watch my new futuristic washing machine wash our clothes with the tiniest bit of water.

Did I tell you we got a new washing machine?

It. Is. Awesome.

No, really. It's true. I mean, we literally stood over it all weekend, looking into the little window while it spun and spun and spun. It even has an allergen cycle. And a countdown clock. And it doesn't sound like hamsters are running around and around inside like our old one. Our clothes are so clean. No more holes. No more towels wrapped around the agitator. I feel so, I dunno...2011!

I want to hire someone to clean my baseboards and bathrooms while I sit in my comfy chair, prop up my feet and catch up on my bajillion and two Netflix shows. And Jeopardy!

Can't Christmas wait just a little, tiny bit longer? I'm not ready.

Tuesday Ten!

Here we are. The last full week before school is out for the holidays. And it's going by at a snail's pace.

I admit that my thoughts on this are purely selfish, because really all I want to be able to do is sleep late and not hear things like, "MOOOOM we're out of Gold Grahams, CAN I HAVE WAFFLES" shouted through the house when half the family is still snuggled happily in their beds. Three glorious weeks.

Three.

And I won't complain halfway through Week Two and wish they'd all go back to school and work. Maybe. Okay. Probably.

Anyway. Here's your Tuesday Ten! 

1. Just when you think you're hanging up your summer wardrobe for good, Mother Nature kicks you in the uterus with 75 degree weather. What?

2. No matter how many times you tell yourself it's okay, having a breakfast stuffed inside of a deep fried pie crust will not help your weight loss goals. And, there is a 150% chance that everything inside that evil crust of flaky goodness will come back to haunt you 11.5 minutes later. 

3. If you get to the stop sign before a full minute before me, don't wave me through. It's not my turn. I don't want to go. You're not doing me a favor. Instead, maybe try doing that in the grocery store when the person behind you has one item and you have fifty-seven. Because that? Totally polite. 

4. I may or may not have been caught on camera attempting to dance to a song with the words "stanky legg" in it. I did not even know this song (?) existed. Yet, there it was playing on the sound system at the gas station yesterday. I almost wanted to wait and see what came on next, but I figured I'd done enough rump shakin' for one morning. 

5. So everyone's all up in arms over Lowe's pulling ads from some TLC Muslim show. And some politician is all angry because he claims it's discriminatory. And guess what? I don't really care because Lowe's is a private company who pays to have their ads run on television and I guess if they wanted to advertise during White Supremacist Week, well that's their business. Don't shop there and stop whining about it. Simple enough. 

6. Also, there are bigger things in this world to worry about. There are people without jobs, families facing incredible tragedy and difficulty, an economy that isn't getting better, and people who still don't understand that they shouldn't wear horizontal stripes. Ever. 

7. I'm afraid Reese is going to be as OCD as I am. I just caught griping at Riley over messing up the neat line of trains he loving placed around the entire train table. Maybe instead of a college fund I should start up a therapy fund. 

8. I still haven't done ANY Christmas shopping. But, I have managed to start watching Mad Men, Hot in Cleveland, Felicity and Breaking Bad on Netflix. See? I'm totally on top of things. 

9. There's a big difference between teasing or being lightheartedly "offensive," and going out of our way to hurt people who have differing views. While I may not like the Duggars, I find it incredibly sad that there are people who think Michelle Duggar deserved to have a miscarriage or hope that she'll think twice before getting pregnant again. It's also disappointing that there are those out there who seem to think they can outright hurt those they consider "friends" and then get off scott-free without having to own their words. I'm not entirely innocent of poking fun or rolling my eyes, but some of the sentiments I've seen expressed toward that family recently really make me cringe. Just because you have an opinion doesn't mean it's relevant and we should all be careful about the thoughts we put out into the world. Or, at least be ready to own it when it comes back to haunt us.

10. There are WAY too few days until Christmas. I will not freak out yet.

BFG vs. The Troll...

You know what makes my day?

Comments like this:

"OHHHHHH!!! Ugly fat white bitch is bitter because men are boycotting her! BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You are so delusional, it is hilarious. American women are insane and living in a dream world. Have fun growing old alone with your 10 cats!"

Cute, right?

I feel like I need to point out a few things here. The first being that it wasn't me searching for porn in the wee hours of the morning, wishing I had a warm body to share my bed instead of a box of kleenex and some generic lotion from Wal*Mart. So, there's that.

Second, while I might be a bitch and I am definitely fat and white, I am not bitter about anything other than the fact that I haven't had a cupcake in at least four months. I also haven't been able to shower or pee in a private recently, so that could be contributing to that bitter feeling.

Third. I don't have ten cats. Or even one cat. I do, however, have four kids and a husband who sometimes act like animals.

And fourth, I am most certainly not being boycotted by American men. In any way, shape or form. In fact, I get laid pretty frequently. Including last night. Sometimes twice. And especially when I leave on my heels and pearls. He shares my bed. Eats at our dinner table. Plays ball with his sons. Mows the lawn and takes out the trash and has impeccable grooming habits.

As if that wasn't good enough, I do have a number of male friends who all think that I'm not only awesome, but also the best wife ever. So men boycotting me? Yeah. I'm gonna go with no. I can't even give you points for creativity.

PS: Next time you plan on wishing someone well as they die alone with their ten cats, you may want to make sure you're not anonymously leaving comments on a stranger's blog. I'm just sayin'.

Fridays with Bob

Yeah, so Bob has been a little MIA recent. To quote Michael Corleone in the Godfather, "it's business, not personal." We've been busy here at work.

So, while traveling to Chicago back before Thanksgiving, I noticed a new rule at the TSA checkpoint in Chicago's Midway Airport. Children under 12 are now allowed to keep their shoes on.

While I am sure this is a huge relief for families traveling with children this holiday season, I have some questions...

1) How, exactly, do you prove how old your child is? If s/he doesn't have a passport and you didn't happen to bring a copy of their birth certificate to the airport, what, are we going with the honor system? That doesn't seem very secure. I can tell you this -- at 12, I don't know that I looked 12. Moreover, at 37.99, I act about 9 most of the time.

2) Why just kids under 12? Are there shoes so small that, if potentially equipped with plastique that they wouldn't blow a hole in the plane causing explosive decompression and a crash? That seems unlikely, again, for someone like me who had his age and shoe size synchronized at that point in my life.

3) Terrorist. Babies. Are we putting productive future members of American society, the next generation, at risk by creating a "terrorist baby" loophole?

Ok, that last one is ridiculous. But let's review.

Country shoe bomber departed from: UK

Country shoe bomber bound for: USA

Number of countries that require the removal of footwear prior to boarding a plane: 1 (USA)

We are the ONLY country in the world that requires the removal of footwear prior to boarding a plane. What is it that EVERY OTHER COUNTRY KNOWS THAT WE DON'T? Do they have better equipment or screening? I can answer that -- with a couple of exceptions, no. So how come planes aren't being brought down by shoe bombs worldwide? How come we haven't reverted to barefoot travel?

Because it probably wouldn't work, and let's face it, it's idiotic. After some dude tried to start a party in his pants (the Xmas Day bomber, from Lagos, Nigeria) we didn't go out and require either that you "go commando" at the airport. We didn't require that you strip down and walk through screening naked. Why? BECAUSE IT WOULD BE A MORONIC OVERREACTION.

Yet come Christmas travel, we will line up, remove our shoes and belts and shuffle off to Buffalo (or wherever) in our stocking feet with a gangsta lean to our britches. I work in a building where I have to walk through a metal detector at least once a day. I deliberately purchase shoes, belts, etc. that I know don't have enough metal to set off a properly tuned metal detector. Even if you don't, a quick sweep with a wand, it would seem, is a far more effective inspection of your body for metal than a one-size-fits-all narrow doorway.

As for shoes, isn't it about time we had the machines that blow air on you and sniff the air for residues of dangerous things? Dammit, if I can't have my flying car, be able to eat what I want without gaining weight or watch television in 57-D, I WANT TO BE ABLE TO LEAVE MY SHOES ON.

That, dear readers, is what I want for Christmas. So on to the Friday Five!

5) Dear David Stern: Fuck you. I would explain this, but if you are a basketball fan (and I am, of the Houston Rockets) you understand. If you don't care about basketball, my explanation would just be long and tedious and you would start daydreaming about Pinterest. Also, Dan Gilbert? Take two of these and NEVER CALL ME, you douchebag.

4) Dear younger generation: Learn about social media. And by that, I mean DON'T PUT YOUR WHOLE FUCKING LIFE ON THE INTERNET. If you do, do not later be confused by why you lost your job. You lost it because you, too, were acting like a douchebag. That's really our theme for today. Douchebag. To wit, check out these awesome tweets by twits.

3)To my friend, Terry: Dude, give it up. You claim to be a Republican. Believable, with everything that these readers know about you (nothing). You want Mitt Romney out of the race because you believe him to be a flip-flopper who believes in nothing. Burnishing your credentials. However, when you said that the exit of Romney will clear the way for your preferred candidate, John Huntsman? Republican credibility is now lost.

You want the ONE guy in the GOP field who ACTUALLY WORKED FOR THE OBAMA ADMINISTRATION to be the nominee? Yeah....hmmmm.....not gonna happen. On the other hand, you're totally prepared for the AFLAC Trivia Question during the 2032 Presidential Debates when you are asked to name the "other" Mormon who ran for president in 2012...so you got that going for you, which is nice.

2) Donald Trump is sponsoring a GOP debate. I don't have to make a joke here, because that previous sentence is a joke.

1) Christmas cheer/spirit/decorations/music: I would like to thank all of the merchants, vendors, people and alien skin jobs who waited at least until December 1 to start putting out decorations, playing music, etc. To the rest of you, who started at Halloween? A big FUCK YOU. I love Christmas, but I don't love three months of it. If you are STARTING Christmas on the birthday of my sister (October 18 -- she's a preemie who was due Xmas Day '76) that's too early.

That's not really a natural ending point, but I'm going to lean over and puke in my trash can because I don't feel well. I might leave work -- depends on the chunk factor -- or I might just work out the day. We'll see. Catch you peeps next week!

Tuesday Ten!

I have an announcement to make!

My house is completely decorated for Christmas. Inside, I mean. Because, what holiday would be complete without a disgruntled husband trying to figure out how to hang lights outside without blowing multiple fuses and falling off unstable plastic chairs (ladders are totally for wimps!)...

The tree is up, covered with ornaments mostly placed around the bottom third. I have put up my Christmas village and strategically placed snow around each building trying to make it look natural while covering up cords and wires. There are colored lights dripping from the entertainment center in the living room (which I personally think look tacky, but nobody asked me). And there is no shortage of Santas, snowmen and brightly colored baubles in almost every room of the house.

I feel the need to point out that this is huge. HUGE. So, I kinda want to brag. Especially since I am actually not the last person among my friends to have a tree up. Take that Grinchies!

Anyway. It's Tuesday, it's cold and wet and overcast, and my house is clean. So I feel like it's a good time to bring you your weekly Tuesday Ten!

1. I have been so completely grateful for my husband these last few weeks. He always puts up with my totally crazy behavior from Thanksgiving to mid-December and never complains about the fact that I go back and forth between hating Christmas and wanting to give my kids a happy holiday. He has held me while I cried for my friends, complimented me when I've gotten ready for church or Christmas parties, and never minds when he's sent out into the cold for some random ingredient I've forgotten at the grocery store.

2. I don't care what anybody says, Jungle Love is an awesome song.

3. The store was out of my Peppermint Mocha creamer and I made the mistake of setting for Egg Nog Latte. Bad choice. Don't do it.

4. I'm about ready to set off a grenade in the boys' bathroom. That place is where everyone's hopes and dreams of a clean house go to die.

5. I finally, finally cut my hair last week. One whole person noticed. I might be a little bitter about that.

6. One of the most awesome things about living in a small town is the local message boards. One minute, someone is complaining about having their Christmas decorations stolen and the next minute they're on the 5:00 news! I love that! I also love that students can ask for a ride to the airport and people willingly take them completely not worried over them possibly being a sexual deviant.

7. Mr. BFG has gotten me hooked on Breaking Bad. Why am I so behind the times?

8. You know you're a housewife when the idea of a new washing machine excites you and you're seriously considering asking your husband for a new vacuum for Christmas.

9. I have been consciously taking extra time out to spend with the boys this week. I took Blake with me to church on Sunday and got to snuggle with him throughout the entire service. I got to sit and watch the news with Andrew and answer his questions about world events. I've played Lego with the twins and watched them hang ornaments on our tree. It's been good for my mommy heart.

10. T-minus TWELVE DAYS until my daddy gets here!!!! 

Max...

Back in September, I posted about Max, my friend's gorgeous and sweet three year old son with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. That day, I wrote about him and his big sister Holly, the problems boys with Duchenne face and an amazing organization called Parent Project Muscular Dystrophy. These people are deeply committed to ending this type of Muscular Dystrophy and each fall host Coach to Cure MD, which coincides with the beginning of the college football season.

Friday evening, Max passed away suddenly. We are all shocked and our hearts are broken. For Veronica, for her husband James, for Max's big sister Holly. I feel entirely helpless. I think we all do right now.

But, one of the things that I love the most about the blogging community is that when people are in need, we can band together for a common cause. And, that's why I'm sharing this with you today. Because, I hope that after you read Max's story, you will feel led to donate to PPMD in his honor. You can visit his personal page and follow the link to donate.

Big or small, every single dollar counts and through your generosity, other families like Max's will benefit. Whether it be through their continuing research, personal and family support and eventually a cure. 

On Fridays...

I look forward to Fridays.

Not because it's pay day (because that just seems to be a reminder of exactly how poor you are), but because it's the one day out of the week that I am not forced to pry open my crusty eyeballs before the sun comes up and cart everyone across the universe in order to get them to school on time while Mr. BFG runs around the house like a maniac at the absolute last possible second with his shoes untied and fly unzipped.

It is also the one day each week that it's perfectly acceptable to sit around in your pajamas while writing a blog and listening to iTunes. Nobody can see me. Except for maybe the people who are unfortunate enough to live next door to us (though, if it were me, I'd be grateful because we're practically free birth control). 

On Fridays, the boys can hang out in the stale pajamas and spill milk on my table because I'm not in a hurry to get out the door. There is no pressure to pry the sticky Golden Grahams off the floor or wipe down the counters before running off to our next destination. They can sit at the train table and build with blocks while yelling, "look mommy, look mommy, mommylooklooklookmommy, MOMMY LOOK AT MY EVIL PLAYGROUND RIGHT NOW!!!!"

I can check my email at my leisure. I can take the time to check out the "free sandwich" message and be all ticked off because it mentions nothing actually free or sandwich related. My coffee isn't drained within two minutes and I can enjoy my granola while listening to Elton John.

On Friday, I don't have to worry about Reese saying super serious things like, "you have to be very careful with farts because you COULD squirt out some juice, right" in public. I am free to reign with an iron fist, instead of ruling in a gentle voice and pats on the head (when what you really want to do is yell, "get out of the damned car already!"). Nobody notices if you take a dose of NyQuil in an act of desperation in order to get rid of your migraine. Instead you can pass out on the couch for hours while people decide to notify the police after reading about it on your blog.

You can listen to Nelson. Because nobody judges your music tastes on Fridays. 

On Friday, I can fold laundry in front of trashy television shows. I can feed the boys pizza and let them stay up late. I can freak out and lock my doors when there's word of an armed robbery and a suspect on the loose. The housework can go to pot because tomorrow is Saturday and it's going to rain anyway which means you'll have plenty of time to do it in your abject boredom.

The mailman doesn't care when he's greeted with a chorus of preschoolers hollering "I like big butts and I cannot lie." Because he's about to go home and get his drink on while looking at all the dirty magazines he steals from people on his route all week long (pretty sure his anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun).

On Fridays, everyone is happy because they have two whole days until the week starts all over again. And they totally don't care that you're rocking out to Walkin' on Sunshine. Because they are too.